Walt Whitman and the Civil War: A Collection of Original Articles and Manuscripts [Reprint 2016 ed.] 9781512801682

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WALT WHITMAN AND THE CIVIL WAR

W

r

a.lt hitman

AND THE CIVIL A COLLECTION ARTICLES

AND

Edited

OF

WAR

ORIGINAL

MANUSCRIPTS

by

C H A R L E S I. G L I C K S B E R G

A Perpetua Book A. S. BARNES AND COMPANY, INC. NEW YORK

Copyright 1933 UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA PRESS

Perpetua Edition 1ΘΘ3

Printed in the United States of America

To DOROTHY

PREFACE

T

H E central idea of this book was born of a longstanding interest in Whitman and his work, and the discovery that, though many phases of his life had already been diligently investigated, his relation to tKe Civil W a r had been left relatively unexplored. I cannot too warmly acknowledge my gratitude to Professor Edward S. Bradley, of the University of Pennsylvania, who ably directed the progress of this book, and whose unfailing sympathy and friendly encouragement helped to solve many a difficult problem which arose in connection with the organization of the material. I also wish to express my indebtedness to Professor A r t h u r Hobson Quinn, also of the University of Pennsylvania, who suggested the subject of this book. T o Professor E m o r y Holloway I am deeply thankful f o r his interest in my work and for the many suggestions and points of information he kindly contributed. F o r permission to use the material in this volume I cordially thank the officials of the L i b r a r y of Congress, especially those in the Manuscript Division; the trustees of the Pierpont Morgan L i b r a r y ; and M r . Oscar Lion, of New Y o r k City, who courteously put his extensive Whitman collection at my disposal. I am also glad to take this opportunity to express my appreciation to Mr. Clifton J . Furness f o r allowing me to copy his rich collection of notes gathered from the Bucke and P e r r y collections. Professor S. Foster Damon has done all in his power to make my visit to the Brown University L i b r a r y both pleasant and fruitful. I tender my thanks to the New Y o r k Public L i b r a r y , the New Y o r k Historical Society, and T h e American Antiquarian Society a t Worcester, Massachusetts, f o r supplying me with much needed information and f o r promptly answering every query I addressed to them. M r . W i l l S. Monroe, of W a t e r b u r y , Vermont, has been good enough to lend me copies of letters Whitman wrote to Trowbridge. vii

vili

Preface

Mr. Alfred Goldsmith of New York, known to all Whitman scholars, has sent me some valuable information. Colonel P. M. Ashburn, Librarian of the Army Medical Library, has taken great pains to answer every question I sent him regarding Whitman and his services in the war. To all those, too numerous to mention, who have contributed in any way to the making of this book, I express my sincere gratitude. C. I. G. Philadelphia October 15, 1932

CONTENTS PAGE

PREFACE

vii

INTRODUCTION PART

1 I: ORIGINAL

WRITINGS

CITY PHOTOGRAPHS I

15

The Broadway Hospital

24

II

"

"

"

29

III

"

"

"

34

IV

"

"

"

40

V

The Bowery

47

VI

"

"

52

VII

"

"

58

FIFTY-FIRST NEW YORK CITY VETERANS

63

RETURN OF A BROOKLYN VETERAN

85

LETTERS

91

POEMS

121 PART

II: MANUSCRIPT

MATERIAL

DIARY FOR 1863

131

WAR MEMORANDA

141

HOSPITAL CASES

145

LITERARY JOTTINGS

161

HOSPITAL MISMANAGEMENT

167

HOSPITAL INCIDENTS

171 ix

Contents TACE

LINCOLN AND WHITMAN

173

IMPRISONMENT AND EXCHANGE OF GEORGE WHITMAN 177 APPENDIX: LIST OF NEWSPAPER CLIPPINGS

183

INDEX

193

ILLUSTRATIONS PACING rAGE Specimen Page from Whitman's Notebook

80

First Draft of "The Artilleryman's Vision"

122

Rough Draft of a War Poem

125

Two Drafts of "Quicksand Years"

126

zi

ABBREVIATIONS Only those works to which references are frequently made are given in this list of abbreviations. Barrus Clara Barrus. Whitman and Burroughs, Comrades. Boston and New York, 1931. Barton William E. Barton. Abraham Lincoln and Walt Whitman, Indianapolis, 1928. Camden Horace L. Träubel. With Walt Whitman in Camden, Vol. I, Boston, 1906 ; Vol. II, New York, 1908 ; Vol. I l l , New York, 1914. C. P. W. Complete Writings of Walt Whitman. Vols. I - X , New York, 1902. 1 Donaldson Thomas Donaldson. Walt Whitman, the Man, New York, 1902. Furness Clifton Joseph Furness. Walt Whitman's Workshop, Cambridge, 1928. Holloway Emory Holloway. Walt Whitman, an Interpretation in Narrative, New York, 1926. Inc. Ed. Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. Inclusive Edition. Edited by Emory Holloway, New York, 1924. Perry Bliss Perry. Walt Whitman, His Life and Work, Boston and New York, 1906. U. P. P. Uncollected Poetry and Prose of Walt Whitman. Collected and edited by Emory Holloway, Vols. I, II, Garden City, Ν. Y., and Toronto, 1921. ι The ten volumes of this edition are divided into two sections : the first, consisting of Leavet of Oraιι, is in three volumes ; the second, comprising the Prote Work», is in seven volumes. In conformity with the usage in the indexing of this edition, references have been made to Volumes I - X . By this arrangement the first volume of the Prote Work> becomes Volume IV of the set.

xii

INTRODUCTION H E purpose of this book is to edit, without revision, a number- of Whitman manuscripts which either deal with or belong to the period of the Civil War. While the function of the editor is obviously not that of the critic, some work of interpretation is called for in arranging the sequence of the notes and in indicating their significance. I t is hoped that by this means a fuller and truer estimate of Whitman at the most crucial and dramatic time of his life will be made possible.

T

I f many of these jottings seem fragmentary and stenographic, it is because they were written by the poet in haste and under particularly trying conditions; they were set down in his diaries or hospital notebooks wherever he happened to be—in camp, by the bedside of a wounded sufferer, or on the street. Thus, what they lose in stylistic distinction, continuity, and literary skill, they gain in vividness, concision, concreteness, and power. Whitman writes while the experience is still poignantly fresh in his mind. What is here set down in black and white was originally forged on the anvil of pain. This is no metaphor: Whitman devoted himself to the cause of salvaging the wrecks in the hospitals with as much zeal and self-sacrificing enthusiasm as the soldiers who fought the battles of the war. They served on the field, he performed his duty as a volunteer nurse in the hospitals. The unpublished manuscripts included in this book, though covering a wide range of subject-matter, all bear, in some way, on Whitman's relation to the war. The book has been divided into two parts. The first part contains all original material— whether worked into the form of articles or the rough draft for a poem—which has attained some degree of literary elaboration. First is the series of seven articles from the New York Leader, which form an integral part of the book, since they 1

2

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

were all written and printed in 1862. Like the "Brooklyniana" articles, they are of considerable importance in that they throw new light on Whitman's activities during the obscure year 1862. The first four articles conclusively prove that he was drawn into the war and ministered to wounded soldiers before he began his duties in the Washington hospitals. His work as a self-appointed missionary among the sick and wounded was no accident ; it was a deliberate decision, and he served his apprenticeship, so to speak, as a nurse in the Broadway Hospital. The last three articles, the two on the Bowery and the one on the Bowery Theatre, are included by virtue of the fact that they were written during the war ; they reveal his intimate knowledge of the streets of Manhattan and his early love for the theatre. Following these is the article, "The Fifty-First New York City Veterans," a spirited and racy account of the regiment in which George Whitman served so illustriously. Next comes the article, "Return of a Brooklyn Veteran," which gives a vivid description of George Whitman's military career. Then there are a number of previously uncollected letters which Whitman wrote to his mother and to various other friends, and, finally, a few manuscript poems which presumably were intended for Drum-Taps. The second part is devoted to material which was not developed to any degree of finish, the rough jottings of the camp and the hospital. First is Whitman's diary for part of the year 1863. This is followed by various sections presented in the following order: war memoranda; cases of soldiers mentioned in his published works; cases of soldiers not mentioned in his published works; a number of literary jottings which Whitman either elaborated in his prose or hoped some day to use ; cases of neglect and mismanagement in the hospitals ; hospital incidents and miscellany; Lincolniana; and finally a section on George Whitman's imprisonment. A list of newspaper clippings relative to the Civil War, found in the Harned Collection, is given in the Appendix. The material for this section has been gleaned mainly from the Harned Collection in the Library of Congress, and unless

Introduction

3

specific mention is made, it is to be understood that items in the text have been taken from that collection. Besides newspaper clippings, letters, and miscellaneous manuscripts, the Harned Collection contains twenty-four notebooks belonging to different periods of Whitman's life. Selections for this book have been made only from those notebooks and manuscripts which have any relation to the Civil War. There is an old leather-bound notebook which belongs to the year 1859. There is a notebook stamped with gold "1862," but also relating to 1863 and containing the material for the article "The FiftyFirst New York City Veterans," and for a number of the poems of Drum-Taps. The diary covering the period from January 1863 to December 1863 was kept in a diary printed for 1862 ; Whitman simply went through it and changed the numerals of the days of the month. The next notebook, bound in morocco leather, has stamped in gold letters on the cover, "Christian Commission," and on the inside is written, "Walt Whitman— Soldier's Missionary to hospital, camp, & Battle Ground." This raises an important issue: was Whitman ever a member of the Christian Commission? It is worth while pausing a moment to consider the question of Whitman's connection with the Christian Commission. If he joined it soon after his return from the front, that is, some time in January, 1863, he did not remain with it for long. Professor Holloway, whose opinion I have asked, gives me permission to quote him as follows : "No evidence that I have seen would lead me to conclude that Whitman was ever officially associated with the Christian Commission. I think it unlikely that he was." Yet Träubel states that Whitman gave him a big yellow envelope on which was written, "From Office Christian Commission 343 Pennsylvania av. Washington, D. C. Commission of Walt Whitman of Brooklyn N. Y. Jan 20 1863." (Camden, III, 573.) And on March 10, 1863, James Redpath sent Whitman a letter in which he says that he asked Emerson to solicit some of his friends to contribute to "your Christian Commission Agency." (Donaldson, p. 143.) Yet as early as February 26, 1863, Whitman speaks of himself (C. P. W., VII,

4

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

81.) as a missionary visiting the hospitals on his own account, and on March 19,1863, (Ibid., p. 92.) he calls himself "a regular self-appointed missionary to these thousands and tens of thousands of wounded and sick young men here, left upon Government hands, many of them languishing, many of them dying. I am not connected with any society, but go on my own individual account, and to the work that appears called f o r . " No statement could be more explicit. Therefore, assuming that Whitman was officially associated with the Christian Commission, he did not serve in it longer than a month or, at most, two. Professor Jean Catel, the author of two books on Whitman, Rhythme et Langage dans I" Edition des "Leaves of Grass" (1855), and Walt Whitman, la naissance du poète, falls into a number of errors in this respect. T o the Revue AngloAméricaine (June 1926) he contributed an article, " W a l t Whitman pendant la Guerre de Sécession d'après des documents inédits," which contains some material from unpublished manuscripts in the Harned Collection. Professor Catel places the time of Whitman's official connection with the Christian Commission in the beginning of the year 1862, whereas it was not until he returned to Washington that he could have accepted this post. Professor Catel further says that in 1864 Whitman left Washington once more for the front, having been sent there as delegate to the rear by the Christian Commission. As was pointed out above, Whitman had long ago severed his connection with that institution. Yet, regarding Whitman's homecoming in the autumn of 1864 and his visits to the Brooklyn hospital, Professor Catel still asks, "Est-il encore dans la dépendence de cette organization ; ou bien agit-il, maintenant, de sa propre initiative et par ses moyens personnels? Nous ne le savons pas." W e do know; the evidence is incontestable.1 Also incorrect in this matter is Mr. Barton in his book, Abraham Lincoln and Walt Whitman, which is marked ι See article by the present writer, " W a l t Whitman in the Civil W a r , " in the Revue Anglo-Américaine, April 1932.

Introduction

5

throughout b j a hostile spirit toward Whitman. He blames Whitman for his egotism in appropriating all three titles: Soldier's Missionary to Hospital, Camp, and Battlefield, and for lack of gratitude to the organization which supported him when he first began his work as a hospital nurse. Mr. Barton is cautious in his statements : "Just how long he remained in the employ of the Christian Commission," he says, "we do not know. His pay was presumably very small, but the delegates were supposed to be paid." 2 (Ibid., pp. 60-61.) We know that the Christian Commission paid its permanent delegates as much as fifty dollars per month, though some delegates went to the front as volunteers, as gratuitous workers. The point is we have no evidence at all to show that Whitman was at any time supported by this organization. We might go further and question, as Professor Holloway does, whether Whitman was ever officially connected with the Christian Commission. Professor Holloway informs me that in W. A. Chandos-Fulton's "Local Press," under XI, note 2 (there are no page numbers in the Long Island Historical Society's scrapbook), there is this statement: "Since 1862 [*»c] he has been attending the Military hospitals in Washington, as nurse and companion. His services are entirely voluntary." The Christian Commission notebook contains no evidence of his connection with this organization, and, so far as the present writer knows, there is no reference in any of his letters or published work to his services as a delegate of this or any other commission. And Whitman, especially in the letters to his mother, was unusually open and communicative about his activities in Washington. Moreover, the files of the Christian Commission, which give a list of all the delegates appointed from 1862 to 1865 inclusive (see Annalt of the United Christian Commission, Philadelphia, 1868, pp. 602—638), do not contain Whitman's name. Nor is it possible to agree with Mr. Barton that Whitman deliberately concealed this connection, and that this "was thoroughly charac2 From Abraham Lincoln and Walt Whitman, by William E. Barton, Copyright 1928, Used by special permission of the Publishers, The BobbsMerrill Company.

6

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

teristic of W a l t , and not wholly to his credit." ( B a r t o n , p. 60.) In a t t e m p t i n g to solve this problem, Mr. B a r t o n oversteps the strictly defined limits of evidence. " W e can scarcely imagine t h a t W a l t would permanently have enjoyed work for such an organization—neither can we believe t h a t his irresponsibility and irregularity in the matter of time and services would be permanently acceptable." (Ibid., p. 61.) Such assertions are capped by a flat contradiction which occurs on the same page. A t one point he says t h a t we do not know why Whitman gave up this work, and f u r t h e r down the page we find him declaring t h a t the Christian Commission discharged him—though he does not give references to s u p p o r t either statement. A t no time does Whitman speak of the Christian Commission in terms of disapprobation. There can be no doubt now t h a t this organization, in spite of its sectarian aims and principles, played a prominent p a r t , together with the S a n i t a r y Commission, as an agency of relief. Besides its main function of keeping awake in the army the sense of the religious life, it shipped numerous consignments of food and other necessary articles to the f r o n t . The wounded were supplied with immediate necessities and their pension arranged for. Besides relieving want and distress, its main purpose was to counteract the madness and brutality of war, by preaching the gospel of Christ. Let us now resume the thread of our discourse. Finally, there are a number of small thin white hospital notebooks which Whitman carried about with him on his visits to the hospitals and in which he entered the names and addresses of the patients, the nature of their wounds, and their p a r t i c u l a r wants. This heterogeneous material helps to explain Whitman's peculiar method of composition, the n a t u r e of the experiences he lived through during the war, and his personality which expressed itself in actual life as well as on the printed page. The Whitman tradition is now in the process of crystallization ; each year new interest is aroused in Whitman's personality and in his work; his book wins new adherents, new admirers. Leaves of Grass is seen not only as a g r e a t work of

Introduction

7

original character but also as a germinal force, ever increasing its range of influence on American life. Because of this augmented interest in Whitman's poetry, many controversial problems have arisen which call for solution. His disciples, the "hot little prophets," to use Professor Perry's fine phrase, resort to extravagant eulogies, and William Douglas O'Connor's picture of him in The Carpenter seems to have started a cult of hero worship. His detractors, on the other hand, assail him as one who would neither work nor fight. The staunchly conservative Higginson started the mud-flinging contest by calling Whitman a slacker who idly stayed at home during the first two years of the war while the destiny of the nation was at stake. This charge has recently been taken up with equal bluntness and animosity by Mr. Barton in his book, Abraham, Lincoln and Walt Whitman, in which he further essays to prove that many of the associations supposed to exist between Whitman and Lincoln were mythical. The body of notes incorporated in the present book will, it is hoped, help to settle some of these vexed issues. The Civil W a r exerted a profound influence on the life of the poet. It made apparent to him his mission as a man and as a writer. For the first time he realized intensely the meaning of "These States." The faith was born in him that out of this bloody trial and sacrifice the Union would emerge strengthened in its integrity, united by new ties of loyalty and brotherhood. Its manifest destiny would be achieved. Purged of the evil of slavery, fortified by this grim struggle, it would conquer new fields of progress in industry, agriculture, and art. His patriotism was of a noble stamp. Now that the war had come, he felt that it must be faced. Though not a jingo or militarist by nature, he maintained that the war must be brought to a decisive close, and that all energies must be bent to this purpose. Much as he loved and respected the people of the South for their innate courtesy and fine traditions, he perceived that the time for compromise or hesitation was at an end. The rebellion must be suppressed, the Union must be preserved at all costs. For the Copperheads, he had nothing but

8

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

d e t e s t a t i o n . T h e n a t i o n needed concerted a c t i o n ; dissension could only breed disaster. H i s Quaker leanings m i g h t prevent him f r o m enlisting in the a r m y and shouldering a g u n ; it could not weaken his p a t r i o t i c conception of what he owed his count r y in this crisis. T h e 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass had voiced the individual soul ; it had been the f o r m a t i v e and experimental expression of a self striving f o r complete realization. W i t h the outbreak of the W a r , he could identify himself with his people; he could be the poet of n a t i o n a l i t y . H e declared in " A B a c k w a r d Glance O'er T r a v e l ' d R o a d s , " " I t is c e r t a i n , I say, t h a t , although I had made a s t a r t before, only f r o m the occurrence of the Secession W a r , and what it show'd me as by flashes of lightning, with the emotional d e p t h s it sounded a n d a r o u s ' d . . . t h a t only f r o m the s t r o n g flare and p r o v o c a t i o n of t h a t w a r ' s sights and scenes the final reasons-for-being of an autochthonic and p a s s i o n a t e song definitely came f o r t h . " And f u r t h e r on he s t a t e s even more explicitly, " W i t h o u t those three or f o u r y e a r s and the experiences they gave, 'Leaves of G r a s s ' would not now be e x i s t i n g . " 3 T h e influence of the Civil W a r on his work can, t h e r e f o r e , h a r d l y be e x a g g e r a t e d . I t was f o r W h i t m a n a n a t i o n a l crisis, a living epic, a creative force. Besides singing the p r i d e and p a t r i o t i s m of N a t i o n a l i t y , W h i t m a n was r e a d y to serve in the c a p a c i t y t h a t best fitted his c h a r a c t e r . I t was with a feeling of consecration, a sense of bei n g called, t h a t he " e l e c t e d " to visit the hospitals in and a b o u t W a s h i n g t o n as a nurse and companion of the wounded. T h e recent discovery of the articles in the New Y o r k Leader disproves the c h a r g e t h a t W h i t m a n was d r a w n into the vortex of the w a r only by an accident, and t h a t he loafed a n d invited his soul f o r the first two y e a r s of the war. W e can see now t h a t he was entirely justified in deciding to c o n c e n t r a t e in the main 3

For a discussion of the curious and significant anachronism involved in this statement, see Trowbridge's article in The Atlantic Monthly, February, 1902, p. 174. H e accuses Whitman of having a faulty memory, though he doesn't quote the qualifying phrase as given in "A Backward Glance O'er Travel'd Koads,"—"although I had made α start before."

Introduction

9

on his hospital experiences, f o r these were closest to him. H i s vision of the war was conditioned by the sights he witnessed as unofficial nurse in the hospitals. H i s war letters, printed in various newspapers, gave promise of a g r e a t work. O'Connor read with deep emotion one of Whitman's war letters in the New Y o r k Times, describing his hospital experiences. " O n l y it fills me with infinite r e g r e t , " he writes, " t h a t there is not a book from you, embodying these rich and sad experiences. I t would be sure of immortality. N o history of our times would ever be written without it, if written with that wealth of living detail you could crowd into it. Indeed, it would itself be a history."

4

Y e t , considering the experiences he had lived through

and the material he had so faithfully accumulated, we might have expected a more unified and coherent history of his relations to the war. H e frankly admits that the value of his prose pieces is not chiefly literary. T h e i r only merit is that they are vividly and honestly told. T h e y are in many cases, as he himself realized, a mere recital of names, dates, and events, told with bare simplicity. Whitman was not blind to his own faults. F r o m the point of view of form or content, Specimen

Dayt

cannot be legitimately regarded as a book. Whitman never completed an organic book of prose. And his account of the war, though gaining in immediacy by its chronological arrangement, lacks the unity, the order, the development of ideas and incidents essential to the making of a book. T h e tragic vicissitudes of war did not shake Whitman's central

conviction

about slavery

and his attitude toward

the

South. About all his utterances on the subject of slavery, from the time he was editor of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle to the end of his life, there is, with but few exceptions, a striking consistency. H e was sane and temperate, and refused to be carried away by the passions of the hour. Slavery, it is true, was a noxious evil, and he wished, no man more so, to see it destroyed. B u t slavery was not the only evil in the world. In 1875 he was to write in his Memoranda

during the War:

" A s to slavery,

abstractly and practically, it is too common, I say, to identify * Camden, II, 402.

10

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

it exclusively with the South. In fact, down to the opening of the W a r , the whole country had about an equal hand in it. The North had at least been just as guilty, if not more guilty; and the E a s t and West had. The former Presidents and Congresses had been guilty—the Governors and Legislatures of every Northern State had been guilty, and the Mayors of New York and other northern cities had all been guilty." The main thing, a f t e r all, was the preservation of the Union. There is a remarkable resemblance between Whitman's views and those of Abraham Lincoln. Aside from all this, Whitman's life in Washington was memorable and intense. There he formed noble friendships and passed through unforgettable experiences. There he consorted with the mercurial, the eloquent and talented William Douglas O'Connor ; the young and admiring disciple, John Burroughs ; Eldridge, his former publisher ; Pete Doyle ; and a host of soldier friends with whom he kept up a correspondence and who loved him sincerely, even if they did not fully understand him. This book, in one way, supplies an omission in Whitman's life. Throughout his later years he constantly nursed the ambition of writing a complete account of his services and experiences in the war. Had he not been so sadly deprived of his health, his vitality shattered, he might have realized his plan. As it was, in spite of the serious physical handicap under which he labored, he managed to write his Memoranda during the War, and to contribute a number of articles to the newspapers and magazines on his war experiences, which were among the most moving and most human, if not the most artistic, contribution to the prose literature of the war, unsurpassed in their sincerity and emotional intensity. These necessarily included but a small portion of the material he had gathered at first hand. The notebooks (some of them stained with blood) which he kept at the time could have formed the nucleus of a vivid and heartrending book, revealing a phase of the war no one had as yet dared to treat in all its realism and horror. I t is unfortunate that this record and interpretation of Whitman's mind and activities during the period of the war must lack

Introduction

11

completeness. However, the writer has endeavored to b r i n g together all the manuscripts which he could find, practically all of which have never before been printed, which would reveal Whitman's character and the n a t u r e of his contribution to the Civil W a r . Since it touches matters of life and death, war is the absolute test of a man's worth, his courage, integrity, and convictions. Yet no war, as Whitman himself emphatically asserted, is ever justified. I t is to Whitman's credit t h a t he was a t no time a j i n g o who gloried in the triumphs and t r a p p i n g s of war. H e saw all too closely its ugly, its horrible and debasing side. H e saw no romance or beauty in killing off the enemy, especially when the enemy happened to be blood-brothers, citizens of the same country. I t was fitting t h a t he should write "Reconciliation" : Word over all, beautiful as the sky, Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage must in time be utterly lost. That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world.

Part I ORIGINAL WRITINGS

CITY P H O T O G R A P H S H E record of Whitman's life during the first two years of the war, up to the time when he left for Washington to seek out his wounded brother, remains strangely obscure, even though we know that he contributed a series of twenty-five historical articles, "Brooklyniana," to the Brooklyn Standard, a weekly newspaper. With the exception of one section which deals with the Brooklyn City Hospital on R a y mond Street, the articles are sheer hack work, written under the pressure of earning some money and bearing but slight traces of Whitman's individuality. Professor Perry, in fact, says that from April 12, 1861, and for the next eighteen months, "there is practically no record of Walt Whitman." 1 And Mr. Carpenter says, "Few as are the data that bear on Whitman's life during this period of two years, we can surmise how much he was moved by the great turmoil about him." 2 This period has now been investigated, and the material discovered conclusively shows that Whitman did not remain aloof from the struggle, untouched by the burning issues of the hour. 3 Besides the evidence of the diaries he kept at this time,

T

ι Perry, p. 132. = George Rice Carpenter, Walt Whitman, 1909, p. 89. 3 A number of writers, hostile to Whitman, have seized on this obscure period in his life to point out his lack of patriotism, his indifference to national issues. Mr. Barton writes, " H e loved to loaf and invite his soul. He had been doing this for nearly two years since the war broke out, and he might have continued to do it if George had not been wounded." (Barton, p. 31.) And Mr. Harvey O'Higgins in his article in Harper'i Monthly Magazine (May, 1929, p. 704), goes even further when he says, "but when the Civil War broke out on April 12, 1861, he disappeared for eighteen months from the sight of his biographers, and the only entry in is notebook, for that period, is the following, dated April 16, 1861, four days after the beginning of hostilities: Ί have this day, this hour, resolved to inaugurate for myself a pure, perfect, sweet, clean-blooded robust body, by ignoring all drinks but water and pure milk, and all fat meats, late suppers—a great body, a purged, cleansed, spiritualized, invigorated body.' " 15

16

W a l t Whitman and the Civil W a r

there is the clear, soul-stirring contribution of Drum-Taps, many poems of which were composed before 1862, and some of which date back to the beginning of the war. Though Whitman had in some ways anticipated the drift of events, the news that Fort Sumter had been fired upon and that war had been declared came to him as a painful shock. In the 1860 edition of Leaves of Grass is included a poem, "To the States," which voices his fears that politics in the hands of incompetent men like Fillmore, Pierce, and Buchanan would land the country in war. "What a filthy Presidentiad !" he exclaims, and then goes on to say, almost prophetically : Then I will sleep awhile yet, for I see that these States sleep, for reasons ; (With gathering murk, with muttering thunder and lambent shoots we all duly awake, South, North, East, West, inland and seaboard, we will surely awake.) 4 Then when the storm-clouds of war which had been gathering for so many years finally broke in all their fury, Whitman knew not a moment of hesitation. Deeply moved by all that was going on about him, the drilling, the recruiting, the soldiers marching away to camp and battlefield, all his latent patriotic instincts were aroused. Go to war he could not. He was not the type of man to level a gun with intent to kill. But he could enter with perfect comprehension and intensified vision into the motives that prompted men to abandon their trade or profession and don the blue uniform. His faith in the manhood of his country, his pride in the response of the men of his city, were beautifully confirmed. About this time he wrote down the rough draft of apoem, from which we can gauge his attitude toward the war. Why now I shall know whether there is anything in you, Libertad, I shall see how much you can stand Perhaps I shall see the crash—is all then lost? * Inc. Ed,, p.

236.

City Photographs

17

Welcome the storm—welcome the trial—let the waves Why now I shall see what the old ship is made of Anybody can sail with a fair wind, or a smooth sea Come now we will see what stuff you are made of Ship of Libertad Let others tremble and turn pale,—let them ? I want to see what ? before I die, I welcome this menace—I welcome thee with joy. 5 I t is therefore of importance to learn that Whitman contributed a series of articles to the New Y o r k Leader in 1862,® which deal with the Broadway Hospital and reveal the interesting fact that he visited the sick and wounded soldiers in this hospital long before he left for the front in December, 1862. The clue for this find was furnished by a letter written by John Burroughs in October, 1862, in which he says, " H e wrote a number of articles for the 'Leader' some time ago, on the hospitals. Do you remember them?" 7 Although the files of the New York Leader for that year contained a few articles by John Burroughs, there were no signed contributions by Whitman. The only articles relating to the hospitals were signed "Velsor Brush," and this alone was a sufficient clue. The maiden name of Whitman's mother was Louisa Van Velsor. Moreover, » MS. in the Harned Collection. Mr. Barton (p. 23) gives a different version ; he omits the first three lines. See Furness, p. 84. Mr. Furness disarms criticism by saying, "This is a highly composite MS. in the Library of Congress." (Ibid., p. 227.) Another fragment dealing with the same theme— Mr. Furness includes it as an integral part of the same poem—is entitled "Ship of Libertad." Blow mad winds ! ? Kage, boil, vex, yawn wide, yeasty waves Crash away— Tug at the planks—make them groan—fall around, black clouds—clouds of death Ship of the World—Ship of Humanity—Ship of the Ages ? (Ship that circlest the world—Ship o f Promise 8 These are the dates on which the articles appeared : I. March 15, 1862. V . April 19, 1862. I I . March 22, 1862. V I . May 3, 1862. I I I . March 29, 1862. V I I . May 17, 1862. I V . April 12, 1862. t Barrus, p. 3.

18

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

Professor Holloway, in his The Uncollected Poetry and Prose of Walt Whitman,8 prints an article, written after 1855 and apparently intended for some newspaper, which is signed "By Mose Velsor, of Brooklyn." Whitman was therefore in the habit of using this pseudonym. The name Brush was the name of Whitman's grandmother, Hannah Brush, who married Jesse Whitman in 1775 and gave birth to Walter Whitman, the father of the poet. Besides the external evidence, the internal evidence points unmistakably to Whitman's authorship. In the very first article, March 15, 1862, there are references to a stage-driver, Charles Greene, and a fireman, Frank Osborn. We know that Whitman took frequent rides with the stage-drivers, and that when they became sick he visited them in the hospitals, where the doctors spoke of him as "a saint." 9 And, in view of what he was to write less than a year later, how familiar does this sentence sound: "After I have passed through them [the wards] of late, especially in the South Building, which is now filled with soldiers, I have many hours afterwards, in far different scenes, had the pale faces, the look of death, the appealing eyes, come curiously of a sudden, plainly before me." Furthermore, in the sixth article, May 3, 1862, he says that his personal knowledge of the Bowery Theatre goes back to twentyseven or twenty-eight years ago, when he was a lad of fifteen, which would make him about forty-three years old—precisely his age at the time these articles appeared. The corroborative evidence, however, is even more striking and substantial. In a hospital notebook, marked "number 13," and containing entries for 1862 as well as for 1864, Whitman has a number of jottings which are of particular interest since they clearly confirm the authorship of the articles in the New York Leader. They are the rough notes out of which grew the journalistic account of The Broadway Hospital. The second article, March 22, 1862, reads : β II, 97. » Holloway, p. 179.

City Photographs

19

The entire number of patients admitted during the past year ( 1 8 6 1 ) was 3,624. About two-thirds of the patients pay their board, or have it paid for them by the State Government, or that of the United States. At present the United States has quite a good many soldiers, from the Volunteer Regiments, passing through New York. For these they pay seventy-five cents a-day per man.

In the notebook Whitman writes : the Hospital exists now on its own resources—it has no property producing income—about 38 per cent of the patients are gratuitous —resources are payments of pay patients—and receipts from the U. S. government, and N. Y. State gov. for soldiers and sailors— The U. S. pays 75 cents a day for soldiers.

Another entry in this notebook is duplicated almost word for word in the same article, under the paragraph heading, "How the Broadway Hospital Is Kept Up." "It has never belonged to the city, and the city has never contributed any money to it at any time—the State gives 10 12,800 11 a year for many years— this terminated in '59 and now there is no donation." Another entry for February 24 reads, "about 380 patients now in the establishment—pay patients—men are cheaper $4 a week— and women $3 a week—patients admitted in '61 3624." It is interesting to note that the above figures coincide exactly with those in the article. Another notebook, stamped in gold "Walt Whitman—1862," and belonging to 1862 and 1863, also contains notes which were used in these articles. For example, one page contains a note on "Delirium Tremens," which is developed with greater and more graphic detail in the fourth article, April 12, 1862. "Robust, brown sailor seven days ashore—monkeys after him, dogs biting him—men & women beating him." Then one note is headed "North House," and refers to Doctors Smith and Baker as Assistants, and mentions Doctor North and Doctor Cutler "Above this word is written "gave and also "donated." In the article Whitman decided on the use of the word "donated." i l The figure in the article is "about $13,000."

20

Walt Whitman and the Civil W a r

as House Surgeons. In fact, Whitman, in his characteristic method of giving instructions to himself, says, "Mention D r . North & Cutler as House Surgeons." F u r t h e r down on the same page he speaks of Doctor McKee, "lately house Physician to the Ν. Y . Hospital," and Doctor Hogan, both of whom are mentioned in the above article. A pencil line drawn once or twice through this entry would seem to indicate that Whitman, while writing the article in question, had had this notebook before him, and crossed out those bits of information which he had put into the article. On another page, dated April 3, 1 8 6 2 , the entry runs as follows : "Now 307 altogether average 3 5 0 — Volunteers—70 or 8 0 . " These figures will be found duplicated in the article below. "Deaths in the Hospital from standing up on the table—· young man physician—fracture of vertebrae—incidents take an epidemic form—-that is if there is one case of concussion in the brain, there come three or four more. Crimes the s a m e — " T h e third article, which is an elaboration of these notes, did not appear until April 12, 1862. On the next page of the notebook Whitman describes an operation by Doctor Markoe : "Much improved last Friday. Symes operation, performed by Dr. Stevens in the theatre, last F r i d a y — 1 2 bones of the foot amputated, while the flap of the heel brought around, so as to make a cushion to walk upon—successful—formerly they would have cut it off, on the upper third—or at most a little lower down." He next j o t s down some changes in the hospital staff, the following men being appointed as Juniors : Doctor Barker "on medical side," Doctor Jenkins "on 2d surgical side," and Doctor Foster "on 1st surgical side," D o c t o r Alfred North is listed as House Surgeon, and Doctor Cutler is mentioned as being appointed "in place of D r . L i t t l e . " Whitman also sets down the information that arrangements had been made in the hospital to receive three hundred soldiers, who were expected to arrive soon. There is no need of going into exhaustive comparisons, since there can be no doubt now that these articles is The next part, "of soldiers wounded at Bull Run—foot taken off," has a pencil line through it in the manuscript.

City Photographs

21

were written by Whitman. But the fragment in the notebook headed, "Dislocation of the j a w , " repeated practically verbatim in the f o u r t h article, is a most conclusive piece of evidence. " A poor woman came to the Hospital with a double dislocation of lower j a w — s o t h a t the j a w j u s t hung helpless, and firm ( i t was f r o m g a p i n g , ) had been 13 so 18 hours. She came to D r . N o r t h , the House Surgeon—She was etherized—the j a w was then prest in a p r o p e r manner, and p u t back in its proper connection—and the woman went away rejoicing—Dr. Stevens operation—no p a y — g a p i n g . " All of this material is to be found developed in the article. T h e evidence f o r the authorship of Article Seven, which a p peared on M a y 17, 1862, is equally definite and conclusive. T h e notes t h a t follow, taken from the same notebook, form the basis of the last few p a r a g r a p h s in the article. A waiter comes out and sprinkles the floor—then the waltzing band strikes up—very good music—the young fellows select their partners—waltzing altogether—the "officer" rushes in and taps a young fellow on the shoulder—he is violating the rules by wearing his hat. The placard at the shooting gallery informs soldiers & civilians, officers & privates who wish to perfect themselves in shooting that they will be taught free. Another nominates Gen. Fremont for the Presidency in 1864. The young fellows are good looking—and still they waltz, waltz, waltz. Some till they are red in the face.—a gay assembly—a dance hall, perfectly respectable, I should think—some officers. F r o m these notes alone, one would be justified in concluding t h a t W h i t m a n wrote the series of articles signed "Velsor Brush." These articles and notes, belonging as they do to 1862, are of g r e a t interest and importance since they show Whitman's active study of hospital cases before he took up his duties in W a s h i n g t o n and on the field. They add new biographical ma13 "had been" is here crossed out in the manuscript.

22

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

t e r i a l of considerable value, and d e m o n s t r a t e the f a c t t h a t W h i t m a n h a d been in c o n t a c t with t h e w a r a n d h a d visited m a n y wounded soldiers long b e f o r e he went t o W a s h i n g ton. F i n a l l y , the last t h r e e articles, " T h e B o w e r y , " s u p p l y new d a t a r e g a r d i n g W h i t m a n ' s i n t i m a t e knowledge of the s t r e e t s of New Y o r k City a n d his early passion f o r the t h e a t r e . T h e b e a u t y a n d excitement t h a t he f o u n d on B r o a d w a y , t h a t crowded a n d g l i t t e r i n g t h o r o u g h f a r e , he also f o u n d on the E a s t Side, on t h e Bowery. W h i t m a n loved this c i t y , its very name, every nook of it, its curious h a u n t s a n d sections, a n d he enj o y e d n o t h i n g more t h a n w a t c h i n g the tide of faces p a s s i n g by as he rode a l o n g B r o a d w a y on the t o p of a s t a g e c o a c h or exp l o r e d the E a s t Side. Few men h a d this intense p a s s i o n f o r life as it s t r e a m s by in the making, r a w , vivid, a c t u a l , a n d h u m a n . P a r t i c u l a r l y the Bowery with its shops a n d people a n d bustle f a s c i n a t e d him. H i s p a s s i o n f o r the t h e a t r e was even g r e a t e r , a n d he reveals a c u t e a p p r e c i a t i o n of the d r a m a t i c p r o d u c t i o n s he witnessed as a y o u t h . H e could t a s t e of the e n c h a n t m e n t of the t h e a t r e w i t h o u t s a t i e t y . H e saw the best a c t o r s of his time and knew t h e i r w o r t h . H e had a critical eye f o r the nuances of a c t i n g , a sensitive e a r t h a t could j u d g e the q u a l i t y of the h u m a n voice. H i s conception of the d r a m a was essentially d i d a c t i c ; its p u r pose was t o convey sound lessons of i n s t r u c t i o n . 1 4 B u t w h a t he s o u g h t f o r more earnestly was an a u t h e n t i c a l l y native t h e a t r e a n d d r a m a , and New Y o r k was t o be its M e c c a , the center of l i t e r a t u r e and a r t . H e was anxious t h a t A m e r i c a should no l o n g e r p l a y second fiddle to E u r o p e . 1 5 I n Specimen Days W h i t m a n recalled with enthusiasm the y e a r s he h a d spent as a boy, spellbound by the s t a g e , listening t o o p e r a s a n d d r a m a s . "All t h r o u g h these y e a r s , " he writes reminiscently, "off a n d on, I f r e q u e n t e d the Old P a r k , the B o w e r y , B r o a d w a y and C h a t h a m - s q u a r e t h e a t r e s , and the I t a l i a n o p e r a s a t C h a m b e r - s t r e e t , A s t o r - p l a c e or the B a t « See U. P. P., I, 152. is See U. P. P., I, 158.

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23

tery." He was an assiduous theatre-goer, writing for the papers even as a youth and securing free passes. The old Bowery and the elder Booth—these were precious memories to him which he never forgot. Besides attending the Park Theatre where he heard Fanny Kemble, Charlotte Cushman, and Hackett, he loved to frequent the Bowery Theatre where the great actors, Booth and Forrest, were to be seen. He especially admired the former, as one who acted with true genius and who, while defying all the set rules of acting, could interpret a scene with passionate energy. Though small of stature, Booth had a commanding presence and was impressive in whatever role he might be cast. Whitman admired him most in Shakespearean roles. "Even yet I cannot conceive anything finer than old Booth in 'Richard Third,' or 'Lear,' ( I don't know which was best,) or Iago." 17 The Bowery Theatre was then under the management of Thomas Hamblin. Sometimes, on the night of a veteran actor's benefit, Hamblin would present five or six stars all at once. A large, imposing man, Hamblin was a good actor as well as manager, and was often cast with Booth. Nor did Whitman forget some of the Bowery actresses. He had a vivid recollection of the plays they appeared in and the parts they took. Besides the usual Shakespearean revivals, the Bowery Theatre gave many popular plays like The Last Days of Pompeii, The Lion Doomed, Mazeppa, Jonathan Bradford, or the Murder at the Roadside Inn, and The Wept of Wish-ton-Wish. The sixth article in the New York Leader adds considerably to our knowledge of Whitman's dramatic taste. I t sets down many impressions and reminiscences not recorded in the much later article, " T h e Old Bowery." Though Whitman wrote practically no dramatic criticism, his comments on the actors and their interpretation of different parts show keen insight into and a full knowledge of the stage and the art of acting. 16

C. P. W., I V , 24-25. Cf. arücles in The Gathering of the Force», I I , 309, 344. it Ibid., p. 26. For a fuller expression of Whitman's appreciation of Booth's genius, see C. P. W., I V , 26, 292; VI, 185, 186, 190; V I I , 22, 49, 56, 193.

24

Walt Whitman and the Civil W a r City Photographs I THE BROADWAY HOSPITAL (Opposite the head of Pearl Street) It» Old, Memorie»

Here is a great Hospital, almost a century old, and within whose walls, during that time, some hundred and twenty or thirty thousand men, women and children, either out of our own city or concentred here from other parts, have been ministered unto. What retrospective ghosts of New York, and many a distant land, are at once called up ! There they are, many pining and wasting week after week with painful and incurable diseases—burning fevers, racking rheumatism, erysipelas, palsy, consumption, pneumonia, and all the long list; many brought in from sudden accidents, resulting in amputation, often followed by death. Then come up, too, all the tragic and thrilling associations, full of the romance of reality that is ten-fold deeper than anything born of the litterateurs. For, indeed, there exists to-day hardly a family in New York, high or low, and certainly no immigrant family, but has had some acquaintance or relative, at one period or another, within those old stone walls, back there behind the trees. Then this Hospital has quite a venerable name among the medical profession and surgeons of the city, and so, stretching over the world, with its long-stringed staff of doctors, professional consultors, etc., including, directly or indirectly, I hear, every physician and surgeon of any note ever resident on Manhattan island. An immense catalogue of members, many precious to the curative science—some venerable ones, with their portraits hanging about on the walls of the parlors or halls (Drs. Mott, Samuel L. Mitchell, David Hosack, Wright Post, F. U. Johnston, Cheeseman and others). So out of such a long prepared opportunity, dear reader, why should not you and I derive the themes—and, perhaps, most

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25

serviceable and edifying ones—for a half-hour's sketch, j u s t for a change? From the

Entrance

Through an open space on the west side of the street, very plainly, between its short avenue of elm trees, as in passing you glance aside from the splendid hubbub of Broadway, you see the Hospital walls of dark gray stone, grim as some old castle. Along the street in f r o n t , roll and tumble in f u l l tide the ceaseless currents of people. How silent and aloof the building stands a w a y back there ! E a c h glimpse, each sound about it is significant. H e a r the clang of the iron gates, as some serious-faced visitor emerges from the depressing influences inside to the busy life of the worldfamed street. See, up toward the p o r t e r ' s lodge, stands a wearied woman, rocking in her arms a f r e t f u l child. She has been waiting there more t h a n an hour in the wet and cold, till the official " 3 o'clock p. m." arrives. I t seems as if no one with a man's h e a r t but would have used the discretion to admit t h a t poor w o m a n ; but t h e scalleywag whom the establishment has for a p o r t e r shows a metallic and flunkey face that never answered to w a r m h e a r t ' s impulse. T h e little two story building to the l e f t is the place for p r e p a r a tions in morbid and healthy anatomy by the curator, D r . J . J . H u l l . I n the second story is the Museum, valuable to students and amateurs. By-and-by there will be something more to say of D r . H . and his H o s p i t a l Museum. H e r e , near at hand, you see the grounds and buildings to better advantage. T h e r e is sufficient space and outside ventilation. T h e situation is high, and overlooks the N o r t h River. T h e r e is the Main Building, as it is called, the Old Hospital, whose facade you catch from B r o a d w a y ; and besides, the two large edifices called the N o r t h and South Buildings. The Hall and Governors'

Room

Ascending the stone steps, and opening the stout doors in the main building, there you are in the hall, or ante-room—an open space like—out of which a large door opens a t once to the large c a r p e t e d a p a r t m e n t , with its huge round table, where the official

26

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

business of the institution is t r a n s a c t e d b y t h e t w e n t y - s i x G o v e r n o r s of the H o s p i t a l at t h e i r s t a t e d m o n t h l y m e e t i n g s . T h i s G o v e r n o r s ' Room is f u l l of p o r t r a i t s ( w i t h others in t h e a n t e r o o m ) of well k n o w n p h y s i c i a n s a n d s u r g e o n s — s o m e of t h e m dead ( I h a v e a l r e a d y m e n t i o n e d s o m e ) a n d some still l i v i n g — t h e i r n a m e s , a n d most of their f a c e s , f a m i l i a r to all N e w Y o r k m e d i c a l s t u d e n t s . Such old bygone v e t e r a n s a r e h e r e as D r . R i c h a r d S. K i s s a m , w h o served as S u r g e o n f o r t h e H o s p i t a l f o r t h i r t y y e a r s , a n d d i e d in h a r n e s s in 1 8 2 2 ; D r . W m . H a m m e r s l e y , who s e r v e d an e q u a l l y l o n g t i m e ; D r . J . K e a r n e y R o d g e r s who s e r v e d t w e n t y nine y e a r s , a n d died in 1851 ; with D o c t o r s A l e x a n d e r H . S t e v e n s , T h o m a s Cock, J o s e p h M. S m i t h , A l f r e d C. P o s t , R . K . H o f f m a n , G u r d o n B u c k , J o h n W a t s o n a n d J o h n H . Griscom, all m e m o r a b l e in t h e i r a r t . S t i l l o t h e r reminiscences a r e called u p by the G o v e r n o r s ' Room itself, w i t h its official looking t a b l e a n d a r m - c h a i r s . T h e f a m i l i a r f o r m s of M a t t h e w C l a r k s o n a n d G e o r g e N e w b o l d , t h e first of whom w a s P r e s i d e n t of the H o s p i t a l f o r the t w e n t y - t h r e e y e a r s p r e c e d i n g 1822, a n d t h e l a t t e r occupied the same office f o r a still longer period of time, a n d d o w n to within a y e a r or two since; with t h e presence of P e t e r A. J a y , A n d r e w E l l i o t t , R o b e r t B o w n e , Isaac Carow, John Adams (Treasurer for the thirty-six years p r e c e d i n g 1 8 5 4 ) , a n d of R o b e r t J . M u r r a y ( S e c r e t a r y f o r over t h i r t y - t w o y e a r s ) , a n d of G e o r g e T . T r i m b l e , the p r e s e n t P r e s i d e n t of t h e I n s t i t u t i o n — a l l seem easily invoked, a n d to come noiselessly a n d take seats a r o u n d the t a b l e here. A n o t h e r v e n e r a b l e f o r m also comes, t h a t of G u l i a n C. V e r p l a n c k . Clerk

Roberts

and

the

Office

B e f o r e t o u r i n g it t h r o u g h the e s t a b l i s h m e n t , as our s k e t c h now i n t e n d s to do, mention m u s t be m a d e of R o b e r t R o b e r t s , clerk of t h e H o s p i t a l , to be seen t h r o u g h t h e door-sash, t h e r e in t h e office in f r o n t , j u s t off f r o m the hall. C l e r k R o b e r t s (so I h e a r ) is f u l l of a n e c d o t e s a n d venerable local y a r n s , which he will tell, w h e n off d u t y , if rightly a p p r o a c h e d — w i t h a sort of E l i a - l i k e h u m o r of his o w n to give zest to t h e m . O p p o s i t e to him, as he sits over his big l e d g e r s a n d a c c o u n t books, is A l f r e d C a r h a r t , t h e A s s i s t a n t S u p e r i n t e n d e n t , d e e p l y in-

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27

tent on certain figures and checks t h a t have to do with tea, b u t t e r , beef, flour, sugar, etc. James D a r r a c h , the Superintendent, is busy in the office. D r . McGee is looking over a record, and Apothecary Johnson is j u s t going out. The

Wardt

Of course the main interest of a Hospital culminates in the sick wards. On the first floor of the main building, besides the a p a r t ments mentioned, with others for the resident family in charge, are two large women's wards. I n these are also several little sick children. T h e men's wards are up-stairs. Up-stairs also, in a convenient situation, is the office of House Surgeon, D r . Roosa, a gentleman who will not only please you, if you be a j u d g e of character, a t a first impression, but with his hearty tone and professional excellence, will confirm the impression deeper the longer he is known. 1 I n the same office is D r . A l f r e d North. A description of the a d j o i n i n g ward will indicate many points of resemblance general to them all throughout each of the buildings. I t is called W a r d No. 3. I t is pleasantly situated on the second floor, at the tiorth end or wing of the edifice. I t is a large a p a r t m e n t , very clean of course, white-washed, with high-ceilings, well-lighted, perhaps a hundred feet long and twenty-five wide. G r a t i n g s here and there along the wall, near the floor, let in the warm, pure a i r ; and other gratings near the top, let out the bad air, and keep up a good ventilation. T h e temperature is regulated by a thermometer and can be raised or lowered at pleasure. T h e r e seems to be no chance for draughts of cold, or any sudden changes. Along each side of this a p a r t m e n t are ranged the beds, single iron cots, with their heads to the wall, and an ample space down the middle of the room between the two rows. T h e r e are t w e n t y f o u r beds in the ward. On the wall at the head of every occupied ι For interesting and sympathetic reminiscences of Whitman's visits about this time to the Broadway Hospital, see the long letter by Dr. D. B. St. John Roosa in the New York Mail and Express, June 10, 1896.

28

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

bed h a n g s a little card-rack, upon which is inscribed t h e name of the p a t i e n t , his disease, a n d the kind of diet p r e s c r i b e d for him. H e r e is one for e x a m p l e : " C h a r l e s G r e e n — f r a c t u r e of leg. B e e f s t e a k . " This young man, while working as a driver on B r o a d w a y , on the F o u r t h avenue line of stages, was r u n over, a n d his leg broken in one place and badly mashed in another. H e has been l y i n g helpless t h e r e in the cot for the last five weeks, with his leg in a "box." N o r can any outsider realize how tedious a n d lonesome this simple lying still business is, until he has tried it. C h a r l e y , however, has an occasional visitor to cheer him up. T h a t g e n t l e m a n a t present by his bedside is M r . Townsend, the well-esteemed s u p e r i n t e n d e n t of the F o u r t h avenue stages, who has come to see t h a t his disabled employee is well taken care of, and does not w a n t f o r a n y t h i n g . I n the next cot is F r a n k Osborne, a y o u n g fireman, belonging to No. 2 steamer ; he was knocked down while r u n n i n g to a fire, and h a d his collar bone and several ribs broken. As we walk slowly along the room, we meet all surgical cases— this being one of the wards devoted exclusively to t h e m . H e r e lies a poor fellow who had his hand n i p p e d in a steam engine, and two fingers so lacerated t h a t they have been t a k e n off by the surgeon. And here a f o u n d r y w o r k m a n , who w a s struck on the head, accidentally by a hammer. All t h e other previous cases specifically mentioned will recover ; but t h e last one is hopeless, and must end in death. B u t off there in the corner is t h e very f a c t of d e a t h , almost on the instant. Poor J a m e s Watson ! t h r e e weeks ago a picture of athletic manly health, size and good l o o k s — a n d but twenty-six or seven years old. T h r o w n from a r a i l r o a d car a t J e r s e y City, he received a f r i g h t f u l wound a n d f r a c t u r e of t h e bones of the ankle. U p o n being brought to the H o s p i t a l , a f t e r consultation, it was decided by the surgeons t h a t his chances of recovery were b e t t e r without a m p u t a t i n g the foot. I saw him sink d a y a f t e r day f o r a f o r t n i g h t ; a t last, H o s p i t a l f e v e r set in. H e h a s now been in a d y i n g condition f o r t h i r t y or f o r t y hours, a n d can last only a little longer. T w o or t h r e e f r i e n d s a r e a r o u n d him, but he is unconscious of their presence and of his own sufferings. I n the course of an hour or two more, t h a t fluttering labored b r e a t h , will cease altogether, a n d his body will be b o r n e down s t a i r s to the dead house, a n d , under the direction of his f r i e n d s , p r e p a r e d f o r burial.

City Photographs Some

Sentimentalism

to

29

Conclude

What a volume of meaning, what a tragic poem there is in every one of those sick wards ! Yes, in every individual cot, with its little card-rack nailed at the head. A f t e r I have passed through them of late, especially in the South Building, which is now filled with soldiers, I have many hours afterwards, in f a r different scenes, had the pale faces, the look of death, the appealing eyes, come curiously of a sudden, plainly before me. The worser cases lying quite helpless in their cots—others, j u s t able to get up, sitting weak and dispirited in their chairs—I have seen them thus, even through all the gayety of the street or a jovial supper-party. But my sketch must close for this week, or rather, be suspended, to give in another article, in the next number, some remaining items of the personal and historical collect of this interesting old institution. VEL8OR

City

BRUSH.

Photographs II

T H E BROADWAY

HOSPITAL

(Opposite the head of Pearl Street) Continuing, from last week, the exploration of the above establishment (intended for the general and non-professional reader, of course), it is to be said here that nobody will find out the points of this old and extensive Hospital, with its management and deeply interesting particulars and history, on one or two visits. Though I have been there twenty times, I feel unable to do justice, even to this kind of account of it, which only aims to skim over the surface. Some

Statistics—Diseases—Patients

I n the thrée buildings comprising the Hospital, there are, at the time of sketching them (middle of March, 1862), about 400 pa-

30

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

tients, i l l u s t r a t i n g n e a r l y all s o r t s of d i s e a s e s , e x c e p t i n f e c t i o u s ones a n d i n s a n i t y . A l a r g e p r o p o r t i o n , h o w e v e r , a r e s u r g i c a l cases, contusions, f r a c t u r e s , w o u n d s , &c. W h e n a n a c c i d e n t h a p p e n s in a n y of the d o w n - t o w n w a r d s , the p a t i e n t is g e n e r a l l y b r o u g h t h e r e at once, e i t h e r by f r i e n d s or policemen. T h e e n t i r e n u m b e r of p a t i e n t s a d m i t t e d d u r i n g the p a s t y e a r ( 1 8 6 1 ) was 3,624. A b o u t t w o - t h i r d s of t h e p a t i e n t s p a y t h e i r b o a r d , or have it p a i d for t h e m by t h e S t a t e G o v e r n m e n t , or t h a t of the U n i t e d S t a t e s . A t p r e s e n t t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s h a s quite a good m a n y soldiers h e r e , f r o m the V o l u n t e e r R e g i m e n t s p a s s i n g t h r o u g h N e w Y o r k . F o r t h e s e t h e y p a y seventy-five c e n t s a - d a y per man. South

Building—the

Medical

Staff

I n the new south p a r t of the H o s p i t a l a r e t h e sailors' w a r d s , &c. T h e H o u s e S u r g e o n of this division is D r . L i t t l e , whose office is on the second floor; D r . H o g a n ' s office is a l s o on this floor. I am u n d e r obligations to t h e m b o t h , f o r t h e i r c o u r t e s y d u r i n g m y visits, and f o r p r o f e s s i o n a l e x p l a n a t i o n s of cases. D r s . C u t t e r and S t u r g e s should also be m e n t i o n e d , a n d D r . K e n n e d y . Also D r . V a n d e r v o o r t , the l i b r a r i a n . Of the l i b r a r y itself I have not here time to s p e a k . I t is quite a l a r g e collection, a n d is s i t u a t e d in the Old Hospital. An Operation

in the Theatre,

for

Calculus

I saw a surgical o p e r a t i o n of some i m p o r t a n c e in t h e S o u t h B u i l d i n g , in t h e t h e a t r e devoted to such w o r k . I t w a s by D r . P e t e r s , s u r r o u n d e d b y quite a s w a r m of s u r g e o n s a n d s t u d e n t s . I t was w i t h the k n i f e , c u t t i n g f o r calculus in t h e b l a d d e r ( s t o n e , or g r a v e l ) ; the p a t i e n t , J a m e s K e l l y , a y o u n g fireman, f r o m t h e engine-room of a U . S. s t e a m s h i p . T h e p a t i e n t was t h o r o u g h l y c h l o r o f o r m e d , a n d t h e o p e r a t i o n , as n e a r as I could j u d g e , was a d m i r a b l y p u t t h r o u g h . T h e calculus ( s t o n e ) e x t r a c t e d a t l a s t by D r . P . with g e n t l e b u t firm h a n d , h o l d i n g a p a i r of n i p p e r s , seemed to me l a r g e r t h a n t h e e n d j o i n t of m y t h u m b , a n d r o u n d as a c h e r r y . Y o u n g Kelly was t h e n b u n d l e d u p a n d c a r r i e d b a c k t o his cot, d o w n s t a i r s . I s a w him t h e n e x t d a y , a n d a s k e d h i m if h e w a s i n d e e d in-

City Photographs

31

sensible during the entire operation. He said he was perfectly insensible as if he had been dead. On coming in the theatre he had mounted the operating table and lay down upon it—saw the students, &c., crowding around—saw me standing up, a little one side -—inhaled, from its sponge, the chloroform . . . and then the next thing he knew, when he woke up, he was lying faint and sore in his cot in the ward—and, for his first sign of sense, he noticed the light glinting on the brass number of his ward, over the door, j u s t opposite his bed. He a f t e r w a r d , I believe, progressed favorably, and has either gone out cured or will soon go. From the conversation I had with the surgeons, it seems that all this technically called lithotriptic class of diseases (the stone) has decreased quite remarkably in New York, of late years. Some attribute the improvement to Croton water. In former times, both abroad and here, there were some awful cases of this malady; the tortures were almost beyond human endurance. The calculus was sometimes sought to be reached by powerful solvents and sometimes broken by instruments. Every literary man will remember poor Montaigne's case—how he suffered the fifteen or twenty last years of his life from this trouble and how much there is about it all through his Essays, and the Italian Journey. In our day, as I take it, from the talk of the surgeons, the severest calculus in the bladder is supposed to be in their power, by means of chloroform and the knife in the hands of a competent operator. Calculus in the kidneys themselves is perhaps the worst, with agonizing pains and inflammations. The Hospital Museum has a very large and curious collection of calculi, some of them of almost incredible size, and many small ones, extracted, at one time and another, from patients suffering under this complaint. Pathological

Museum.

This—as I think I have mentioned before—is in a little twostory building, standing by itself, between the Old Hospital and Broadway, to the left of the inner gate, as you enter from the great thoroughfare. H e r e are collected many valuable specimens and practical memoranda of the most remarkable cases that have been treated in the Hospital, for the past fifty years. The curator of the

32

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

pathological cabinet, &c., is D r . J . J . H u l l , w h o spends much of his time in p r e p a r i n g a n d p r e s e r v i n g f o r surgical, medical a n d scientific enlightenment, a n y m a r k e d illustrations of disease, d e f o r m i t y — a n d also, f r o m time to time, interesting n o r m a l specimens of anatomy, &c. T h e s e being collected together in the u p p e r s t o r y of the building, with the accumulations of p a s t curators a n d surgeons, and contributions of one kind and another f r o m the medical staff of the H o s p i t a l , make a very good museum of its kind. T h e most horrible a n d p a i n f u l liabilities of h u m a n i t y are exemplified by t h e memor a n d a of this cabinet. H e r e are cases, exactly modeled f r o m the living or dead s u b j e c t , of tumors, of huge, looming size, on the chin, the side or back of the neck, or top of t h e h e a d — t h e l a t t e r excrescence, in some cases, l a r g e r t h a n a peck measure. T h e n , again, a specimen, f r o m a case in the H o s p i t a l , of the f e a r f u l affliction called Elephantiasis (by some supposed to be identical with the old H e b r e w and E g y p t i a n l e p r o s y ) . I n this case here in the H o s p i t a l the disease a t t a c k e d t h e legs, which attained an enormous size ( i t is almost always, I believe, in the legs or f a c e ) . Loathsome sores ensue, which discharge offensive m a t t e r ; till by and by the fiend works his way t h r o u g h the tissues to the j o i n t s a n d bones, and the hapless p a t i e n t literally rots to d e a t h ! I t is what is called a tuberculous disease technically ( l e p r a tuberculosa), of the category of s c r o f u l a , I suppose. T h e chances of recovery are very small. T h e whole malady, t r e a t m e n t , &c., is very baffling; but f o r t u n a t e l y it is r a r e in this c o u n t r y . How

the Broadway

Hospital

Is Kept

Up

I t is quite a prevailing idea t h a t this institution belongs to the city, a n d is k e p t u p at its expense ; but t h a t is a mistake entirely. T h e city contributes nothing to its s u p p o r t , a n d , I believe, never has contributed a n y t h i n g . T h e S t a t e authorities, by act of Legisl a t u r e , donate, or r a t h e r have donated, all along, in times past, about $13,000 a y e a r to the H o s p i t a l ; but I am i n f o r m e d t h a t this source of s u p p l y is now cut off, a n d the establishment d e p e n d s on its own resources, which a r e p a y m e n t s f r o m the p a y patients ( a b o u t 60 per cent, of the whole n u m b e r ) , a n d also its receipts f r o m the U n i t e d States G o v e r n m e n t f o r board and medical a t t e n d a n c e for sailors and soldiers, a n d also f r o m t h e New Y o r k S t a t e G o v e r n m e n t

City Photographs

33

for similar services. The Hospital has no property producing annual income. Price of

Board

Men are charged $4 a week, and women $3. There are some rooms (and very nice ones they are, especially in the South Building) which a patient can have all to himself for the price of $1 a day. This includes all the expenses of board, &c., and medical attendance constantly at hand. The

Nurses

Some of the nurses are real characters, and favorable specimens, at that. I saw a vigorous-looking woman a Swedess by birth, Mrs. Jackson, who has been a nurse here for thirty years. I saw another nurse among the soldiers in the North Building, Mrs. Mack, whose good size and healthy and handsome appearance, I thought ought to do good, salutary service, even j u s t to see her moving around among the sick. Aunty

Robinson

But by what I hear from the doctors in the Hospital, no sketch of that establishment could be fair unless it put in a word about Aunty Robinson, a colored nurse, who has officiated there in that capacity for over twenty years. This good creature has all the appearance of one of the most favorable samples of the Southern mammy, or house nurse, in the families of the high old Carolina and Virginia planters. She has big old-fashioned gold ear-rings in her ears, and wears a clean, bright red and yellow blue handkerchief around her head, and such an expression on her face, that I at once made up my mind, if ever I should be unfortunate enough to go to the Hospital as a patient, I should want to be nursed by Aunty Robinson. Further

Items

of

Interest

There still remain many points of interest about the Broadway Hospital, which I may give in another and concluding paper. The

34

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

N o r t h H o s p i t a l , f u l l of soldiers, is well w o r t h y of T h e n t h e r e is a l o n g h i s t o r y , not w i t h o u t r o m a n t i c t h e e a r l i e r y e a r s of t h e i n s t i t u t i o n , a n d so d o w n to time, i n c l u d i n g t h e " D o c t o r s ' R i o t s , " which c r e a t e d so a n d w e r e so c e l e b r a t e d in t h e i r time.

exploration. i n c i d e n t s of the p r e s e n t much alarm,

VELSOR

City

BRUSH.

Photographs III

THE

BROADWAY

HOSPITAL

( O p p o s i t e t h e h e a d of P e a r l S t r e e t ) I continue, f r o m last week, t h e r u n n i n g s k e t c h of this e s t a b l i s h m e n t , which seems to curiously e x p a n d u n d e r one's h a n d s . Long Array

of Governors

and Presidents—Old

New

York

Families

T h e chronological list of the B o a r d s of G o v e r n o r s of t h i s ins t i t u t i o n , a n d its P r e s i d e n t s f r o m 1770 d o w n to d a t e , 1862, o f f e r s m a t e r i a l f o r a curious a n d e d i f y i n g s t u d y . D u r i n g t h a t t i m e , t h e r e h a s been a succession of B o a r d s , i n c l u d i n g a l t o g e t h e r a b o u t 250 n a m e s ; a n d t h e r e is h a r d l y a N e w Y o r k f a m i l y , old or n e w , of a n y eminence, but is r e p r e s e n t e d a m o n g them. All the old n a m e s a r e h e r e ; you see t h e m t h r o u g h o u t , d o t t i n g the list. H e r e a p p e a r t h e Alsops, Beckmans, J a y s , Costers, Chaunceys, D e Peysters, Duanes, G o o d h u e s , G r a c i e s , K i n g s , D e s b r o s s e s , C. C. Colden, t h e H o n e s , W h i t e h e a d a n d V a l e n t i n e H i c k s , William a n d J a m e s J a u n c e v , t h e Kortwrights, Livingstons, Verplancks, Van Wagenens, Varicks, Olyphants, Van Cortlandts, Rays, Rutgerses, Stuvvesants, the Stevenses, S c h e r m e r h o r n s , Roosevelts, P o s t s , N e w b o l d s , M i n t u r n s , J o h n M u r r a y , J o h n M u r r a y , J r . , and J o h n R. and Robert J . Murr a y , ( f o u r v e t e r a n s , b e g i n n i n g b e f o r e the R e v o l u t i o n a r y w a r , a n d so coming down quite to this d a y ) , the L a w r e n c e s , Le Roys, L i s p e n a r d s , T h o m a s E d d y , a n d t h e A s t o r s , A l i e n s a n d Lenoxes. All these, a n d o t h e r s of e q u a l eminence in t h e list of N e w Y o r k f a m i l i e s , have h a d , a n d m a n y t o - d a y h a v e , p l a c e in t h e p r a c t i c a l d i r e c t i o n of t h e H o s p i t a l , as G o v e r n o r s or m e m b e r s of its executive d e p a r t m e n t s .

City Photographs

35

I have no doubt neglected several names fully worthy of mention with the foregoing. First Class Old New

York Surgeons,

and Their

Achievements

Outsiders can hardly estimate what a profound and fervid enthusiasm there is involved in the profession of surgery and medicine, among the young fellows and advanced students here in New York. All the excitement of politics, with the struggle for office, and the attainment of popular or party applause—all the ups and downs of life in Wall street among stocks and "Erie"—all the merchants' and contractors' excitements, and chances of great profits, and as great losses—can hardly be said to outweigh the absolute stimulus of glory there is (on a much smaller field, of course, but far higher) in the struggle for acknowledged eminence of merit and name, among our surgeons and physicians. The history of this Hospital, and its elder physicians, affords specimens of some of the first-class men, and surgical operations, of the world. Dr. Wright

Post

In a former p a r t of my account, Dr. Wright Post's name was mentioned. The public may not be aware that surgery has its heroic first originators and daring hands as much as any science; — t h a t deeds are done in quiet by its votaries, as really important as those, for instance, which the world now rings with, from Ericsson and the cool and brave Worden; and that some of the first of these deeds have had their locality in the establishment mentioned. For it is recorded of this Hospital, and of Dr. Post, that the first achievement (and with a favorable result,) in the American world, of the bold, original and successful operation of Sir Astley Cooper, of tying the common carotid artery for aneurism (performed by that celebrated surgeon in 1807), was in this institution on the 7th of January, 1813. The case is recorded with great faithfulness and detail in the American Medical Register of this city, in 1814; and it contributed to establish for modern surgery, some of its main physiological and practical principles. The same renowned savan, in 1817, in this Hospital, tied the right subclavian artery, for brachial aneurism, above the clavicle.

36

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

T h e c a s e r e c o v e r e d , b e i n g t h e f i r s t s u c c e s s f u l a c h i e v e m e n t of the l a s t o p e r a t i o n on t h e m e d i c a l r e c o r d s of t h e w o r l d . I h e a r old fellows s p e a k of D r . W r i g h t P o s t p r e t t y m u c h t h e s a m e as the t h e a t r e - g o e r s of a n a g e a g o would s p e a k of Kemble, S i d d o n s — a n d l a t e r ones of t h e g r e a t K e a n . Dr.

Valentine

Mott

B y all a c c o u n t s , t h i s d i s t i n g u i s h e d surgeon possesses also a r a r e o r i g i n a l i t y a n d i n s t i n c t ( a l m o s t i n s p i r a t i o n ) in t h e crises of his i m p o r t a n t w o r k . T h e books s p e a k of a c e l e b r a t e d case of his, a n o p e r a t i o n on t h e a r t e r i a i n n o m i n a t a . T h e s u b j e c t w a s a n old A m e r ican s e a m a n , a n d t h e case w a s o p e r a t e d on in t h e H o s p i t a l in 1818. I t consisted in s e c u r i n g in a l i g a t u r e t h e a r t e r i a i n n o m i n a t a f o r a n e u r i s m , a n d w a s t h e first e v e r p e r f o r m e d f o r t h a t c o m p l a i n t in t h e w o r l d . T h e p a t i e n t b a d e f a i r f o r recovery, b u t a f t e r w a r d s rel a p s e d a n d died. I t w a s , h o w e v e r , one of t h e most s i g n a l o p e r a t i o n s u p to d a t e . D r . M o t t himself s a y s of i t : " A l t h o u g h I f e e l a r e g r e t , t h a t none can k n o w who have not p e r f o r m e d s u r g i c a l o p e r a t i o n s , in t h e f a t a l t e r m i n a t i o n of it, a n d especially a f t e r t h e high a n d j u s t e x p e c t a t i o n s of r e c o v e r y which it exhibited, yet I am h a p p y in t h e reflection, as it is t h e only time it has ever been p e r f o r m e d , t h a t it is t h e b e a r e r of a m e s s a g e to s u r g e r y , c o n t a i n i n g new a n d important results." John

Kearney

Rodgers

T h i s is a n o t h e r e m i n e n t s u r g e o n ( n o w d e a d ) , whose accomplished h e a d a n d h a n d h a v e done some of the b e s t work f o r t h e H o s p i t a l in times p a s t , a n d f o r science a n d h u m a n i t y . I t is m e n t i o n e d of him, in t h e H o s p i t a l c h r o n i c l e s , how, in October 1845, D r . R., in the m i d s t of a l a r g e c r o w d of p r o f e s s i o n a l b r e t h r e n a n d s t u d e n t s , a n d w i t h b r i l l i a n t o r i g i n a l i t y , i n s t i n c t , a n d delicate h a n d — n e v e r , p e r h a p s , s u r p a s s e d — p e r f o r m e d t h e o p e r a t i o n in which t h e l e f t subc l a v i a n a r t e r y w a s t i e d , f o r a n e u r i s m , on the i n n e r side of the scaleni muscles. Other

Surgeons

and

Physicians

I f I k n e w b e t t e r a b o u t t h e H o s p i t a l , I would like t o m e n t i o n specifically a l l t h e p r o m i n e n t p h y s i c i a n s a n d s u r g e o n s who have h a d

City Photographs

37

to do with it, some of them giving here, without a cent, the results of precious years of labor and experiment, in the shape of some operation that they would have charged a wealthy patient certainly hundreds, perhaps thousands of dollars for. I must not forget particularly to mention D r . Joseph M. Smith, senior physician, whose records and lectures have been of service to me. As I hear of them, Dr. Gurdon Buck, Dr. George A. Peters, and Doctors A. C. Post, T. F. Cock, Bulkley, Watson, Halsted, Markoe, Willard Parker, D r a p e r , besides others whose names have been previously given, should be borne honorably in mind, they being identified with the Hospital in its relations to science and practice. Also Doctors J . T. Metcalfe, W. H . Van Buren, J o h n A. Swett, James Macdonald, Benjamin Ogden, and D r . R. K. Hoffman, who is quite a veteran here. Two or three of these are dead. Going away back, the names of Doctors Bard, Middleton, Jones and Treat are to be mentioned as associated with the foundation of the Hospital, and, without the least pecuniary reward, laboring and getting it into shape. Such men deserve, I say, to have their memories embalmed. Dr. John

Watton

I wish to make special mention of this man, on account of his noble discourse on "Thermal Ventilation and other Sanitary Improvements adapted to Public Buildings," delivered in 1851, in the theatre of the Hospital. Ventilation To be plain at once, and say my say about this, I do not think there is a public edifice in America—school, court-room, capítol, hospital, hotel, theatre, ferry-boat, church, or big boarding house— that is anything like ventilated according to the imperious requirements of health and comfort. Proper ventilation should be a main theme, indispensable throughout, in the studies, education and plans of an architect. I t is a science in itself, and no mere matter of a few flues, gratings, &c. In the three great buildings of the Broadway Hospital, the heating and ventilation are by steam ; and I have to acknowledge that during my visits there, which were transient, the results seemed to me sufficiently good to be worthy of commendation.

38

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

( Y e t the demon of human effluvia, a n d t h e other demon of miasm t h a t hovers around all inward and o u t w a r d rottennesses, a n d a p pears at last to get fixed, and cling with tenacity to the very walls and window-panes of the cleanest hospital !—can it be t h a t t h e r e is something in steam-heat, which is not only ineffective in driving away those demons, through good ventilation, but at times seems r a t h e r to connive with t h e m ? ) Surgical

Instruments

Of course they have here (as in all the American hospitals) the very best and compietesi collection of surgical instruments, many of them with original improvements a n d variations. I n this last m a t t e r our surgeons are acknowledged, I believe, to be the s m a r t est in the world. E u r o p e a n s themselves give them the highest credit. I have heard t h a t , even years ago, Sir Astley Cooper, according to a competent authority, failed in his first a t t e m p t to tie the l e f t subclavian a r t e r y within the scaleni muscles, " f o r the want of the improved American a r t e r y i n s t r u m e n t s . " (As to dental instruments, if that be considered a branch of s u r g e r y , the Americans have invented a n d p e r f e c t e d them, out and out, without help f r o m any q u a r t e r . ) Bequests

by

Will

from

the

Wealthy

Dead

I t is a singular and (to me) melancholy f a c t , t h a t while d u r i n g the existence of this establishment ( n e a r l y a c e n t u r y ) the bequests and devises of the good, wealthy, d y i n g men a n d women of New York, to churches, t r a c t societies, missions for p r o p a g a t i n g the Gospel in foreign p a r t s , and so on, have certainly amounted to millions, and almost as certainly tens of millions of dollars, c a r e f u l l y given by will, for such purposes—-the bequests of our wealthy dying citizens to this large and useful H o s p i t a l , s t a n d i n g in their very midst, and ever active for good works, have been but a few h u n d r e d s or spare thousands of dollars. I can count on my fingers, on one hand, all the good people who have bequeathed to the institution ; and they are not from a m o n g the wealthiest people, either. H e r e is the record: D r . S. Robinson, $1,000 H e n r y J . S a n d f o r d $5,000 E l i z a b e t h Demilt, 5,000 R. H . Nevins, 5,000

City Photographs

39

T h e n another bequest f r o m J a m e s Arden Ivers, of Rockland County, who had been a patient in the Hospital, in the Marine D e p a r t m e n t ; and who, at his death, a f t e r certain legacies, devised his f a r m a n d personal estate to the benefit of the Hospital ; and the proceeds for that purpose amounted to $16,000. Will it be believed t h a t the above-named noble and generous persons, now dead, are the only ones through all this century who have devised one penny to the institution, in all New York? Think of the insane thousands of dollars spent monthly on tracts ! Every year somebody dying hereabouts and leaving a fortune to foreign missions ; while this day the Broadway Hospital has to pinch and patch to make both ends meet ! Old Painters

of New

York

I have had a casual allusion to the portraits that fill the Governors' room and the hall. H e r e are the likenesses of many of the celebrated physicians and surgeons I have mentioned, and of the Presidents of the institution. The subjects are not only to be looked on with respect, for their position and acquirements—but there are, many of them, real pictures. Examine them well—with the eye of an expert, even. T h i s one, for example, shows the hand of Jarvis, and this the coloring of H e n r y Inman. T h e old artists of America, too, have thus their memorials in the H o s p i t a l ; for these pictures were made by the best of them. H e r e are portraits by Sully, Peale, D u n l a p , I n g h a m , Hicks and Elliott. T h e r e they hang in the large, dim, silent room, like the portrait gallery of some old European palace, full of other meanings and references than the present, and look down upon you, f r o m the walls, with living eyes. A panorama of noble heads ! Surely, no one can look around at these portraits, as given us by the pencils of our old painters, without feeling how wondrously such departments of science as the surgeon's give definiteness and elevation to physiognomy. For my p a r t , as I stand in the presence of these fine and eloquent faces, I acknowledge without demur t h a t none of the world's many avenues of fame or heroism affords any higher field for the most courageous soul than the one represented by the doctors. VELSOR

BRUSH.

40

Walt Whitman and the Civil War City Photographs IV T H E BROADWAY

HOSPITAL

(Opposite the head of P e a r l S t r e e t ) Condition

of the Hospital

at

Present

Wishing to make my p a r t i n g bow to this worthy old establishment, by bringing things up to date, I took another tour through the three buildings during W e d n e s d a y a f t e r n o o n , A p r i l 2d, 1862. I found, on inquiry, 307 patients at t h a t period in the H o s p i t a l — somewhat below the usual average, (which ranges f r o m 350 u p to 400.) I n the present p a p e r , which concludes the series devoted to the H o s p i t a l , I will sketch the observations of this visit of W e d n e s d a y , a n d also give a few interesting statistics of t h e numbers, nativities, diseases, &c., of the inmates ; and the sum total a d m i t t e d to the establishment f r o m its beginning. Changes

in the Hospital

Staff

T h e regular eight months' change in the resident medical staff has j u s t gone into operation. D r . M. K. H o g a n (who shows himself fitted by native qualities and educational accomplishments f o r the curative a r t ) is now House Physician to the H o s p i t a l , a n d D r s . Smith and Baker are assistants. D r . McKee (lately H o u s e P h y s i c i a n ) , is deserving of special mention f o r his previous care of the Soldiers' D e p a r t m e n t . D r . H o g a n is specially vigilant over this department. T h e new House Surgeons f o r the ensuing eight months are, D r . A l f r e d N o r t h in the F i r s t Division (in place of D r . R o o s a ) , a n d D r . Cutler in the Second Division (in place of D r . L i t t l e ) . T h e J u n i o r s are D r . B a r k e r on t h e medical side, D r . Foster on the first surgical, and D r . Jenkins on the second surgical side. Caution

to

Skylarkers

I t may not be amiss to mention here, while I think of it, a case of death t h a t had j u s t occurred in the H o s p i t a l , the day I was

City Photographs

41

there last, from skylarking. A young man, who had been himself a medical student, was practicing feats of fun and agility among his companions, in his room or store, down town; and among the rest he took a notion to stand on his head on a table, near the wall, with his feet straight up. The table slanted off and the young fellow had a bad fall, which resulted in his being brought to the Hospital with a broken back. He lingered a couple of days, of course beyond the hope of relief or recovery, and then died. Delirium

Tremens

The ward devoted to these cases was only sparsely filled at the time of my visit of last Wednesday. There was one case, a brownfaced, middle-aged Hercules of a fellow, from some United States ship ; a thorough-bred Jack T a r , whose rope-sinewed arms were covered all over with tattoo—who had come ashore some ten days before, on leave and with a pocketful of money. For seven days he had been on such a "bust" as only fellows from men-of-war can stand, and live through it—one perpetual stream of hell-fire, in the shape of three-cent vitriolized brandy ! Then came the "man with the poker." The poor fellow told me, with perfect naivetë, what he had endured for some fifty hours, under his horrible dementia. For a long while he had been attacked, covered, pulled at, buffeted, &c., by swarms of grinning monkeys and apes, who put him to every conceivable torment and annoyance. Then he had the company of a large, fierce, black dog, that amused itself by incessantly springing at him and biting him, first on one spot, and then another; and then crowds of infuriated men and women would chase him and belabor him with cudgels, and pull his hair, &c. As I saw the case, and heard from the nurse's lips also, it was pitiful to see the agony the poor fellow endured under his delusion. Another man here was laboring under the idea that there was a beautiful, angelic lady floating up in the air, over his bed, reaching down to him a glass of liquor. H e mounted on a table to take it, and the attendants had to pull him down. In this ward I have myself seen cases of New York men of standing, talent and fortune, stopping here to receive the advantages the place offers for the cure of delirium tremens.

42

Walt Whitman and the Civil War U. S. Volunteers

in the

Hospital

T h e r e is something especially melancholy in the sight presented in the groups of sick U n i t e d States soldiers, mostly in the N o r t h Building—which is exclusively devoted to them. A very large proportion of them are r o b u s t - f r a m e d y o u n g men f r o m the c o u n t r y — f r o m northern New York, and f r o m Maine, N e w H a m p s h i r e , V e r mont, a n d so on. I have spent two or three Sunday a f t e r n o o n s , of late in going around among these sick soldiers, j u s t to help cheer and change a little the monotony of their sickness a n d confinement—and indeed, j u s t as much, too, for the melancholy e n t e r t a i n m e n t a n d f r i e n d l y interest and s y m p a t h y , I found aroused in myself t o w a r d and among the men. Many of them have no relatives or acquaintances a t all in New York, and time moves on slowly a n d dully enough to them. M a n y of these soldiers, though quite full-sized, I found upon inquiry to be lads of only eighteen, nineteen, or t w e n t y years of age ; some of them never before in a city, brought up, so f a r , on f a r m s , or occasionally away in the lumber woods, or p e r h a p s taking a t r i p down or u p the rivers. One Sunday night, in a ward in the South Building, I spent one of the most agreeable evenings of my life amid such a group of seven convalescent young soldiers of a M a i n e regiment. We drew around together, on our chairs, in the dimly-lighted room, and a f t e r interchanging the few magnetic r e m a r k s t h a t show people it is well f o r them to be together, they told me stories of country life a n d adventures, &c., away u p there in the N o r t h e a s t . T h e y were to leave the next day in a vessel for the G u l f , where their regiment was ; and they felt so h a p p y at the p r o s p e c t . I shook hands with them all round at p a r t i n g , and I know we all felt as if it were the separation of old friends. A Benevolent

Lady

among

the

Soldiers

T h e r e is a lady comes f r o m time to time, quiet a n d without a n y fuss, here among the sick a n d lonesome volunteers. She brings illustrated and other p a p e r s , books of stories, little comforts in the way of eating and drinking, shirts, gowns, handkerchiefs, &c.

43

City Photographs

I dare not mention her name, but she is beautiful. I see evidences of her having been there, almost always, on my visits. Doctor Hogan lias several times mentioned her to me, and so has the excellent Mrs. Mack, the nurse; and often and often have the soldiers mentioned her, and shown me something she has given them. She is clearly averse to the eclat of good works, and sometimes, to avoid show, sends her gifts by a servant to Mrs. Mack for the soldiers. There are other good, benevolent women who come or send here —and men, too. Three

Hundred

More Soldiers

Coming

The officers of the Hospital have made an agreement with the General Government, by which some 300 more sick soldiers are to be received and cared for in the Institution. As the spring advances there can be, if necessary, temporary buildings erected on the grounds, in which the soldiers can be accommodated. At the time of my visit on Wednesday there were several soldiers brought in from the 105th New York Regiment. Measles has been very prevalent the last winter among the soldiers. At one time I would find "Rebeola" on two-thirds of the little card-racks at the head of their beds. Observations

in General—Cases,

etc.

I n ward 8, in the North Building (which seems to me to be a model hospital, in its architectural points), I found, on this visit, two or three curious cases. Two of empyema, very severe—the matter, or pus, running out of the incisions made in the side—a cough, or strong breath, making it run quite freely. Another case of an Indian-looking German, named Korsner, who has been there in that ward for nearly four years, lying in a kind of half stupor, never talking to any one. H e is a pensionary of the United States Military service. In ward 12, I found a German boy, j u s t brought there from a grocery in Forsyth street, where he had been working. H e had a fever and miserable bad blood—the doctor tells me without doubt from having been half starved by his boss—fed on mean, cheap, deficient food.

44

Walt Whitman and the Civil War Amputation

by Dr.

Markoe

As an evidence how advanced, f r o m f o r m e r times, is the a r t of s u r g e r y , I will mention an operation at this visit. I t was p e r f o r m e d , in t h e a m p u t a t i n g t h e a t r e , by D r . T h o m a s M a r k o e , on an United S t a t e s soldier, who h a d been badly wounded in the foot, in one of the late engagements. I t became necessary to a m p u t a t e to save life. U n d e r the old dispensations, the operation would have taken off the leg n e a r l y u p to the knee ( a t what is called the u p p e r t h i r d ) , but in this case it was done by D r . Markoe, a f t e r what is known as the S y m e s ' operation. T h e bones of the foot f o r w a r d were all a m p u t a t e d , and t h e n the flap of the heel b r o u g h t around and l e f t to make a cushion to walk upon, so that t h e c r i p p l e d leg will only be a trifle shorter t h a n t h e other. Deaths

from

Casualties

As I said in a f o r m e r article, the tragic interest of mortal reality t h a t concentrates a r o u n d the w a r d s of this B r o a d w a y H o s p i t a l is to me indeed g r e a t . As an illustration, I will mention t h a t there have been 24 deaths here the p a s t year ( 1 8 6 1 ) , from stabs and gun-shot w o u n d s ; a n d 82 f r o m f a l l i n g off buildings, or down ladders, p l a t f o r m s , a n d the like. T h e r e have been 14 deaths f r o m r a i l r o a d accidents, a n d 22 f r o m burns and scalds. T h e r e have been 8 deaths caused by stages, or other vehicles, r u n n i n g over people. O n l y 2 deaths, however, f r o m suicide. T h e r e have been 164 inquests held at the H o s p i t a l in p a s t year. A Curious

Fact

in Casualties,

etc.

I t is quite marvellous how r e m a r k a b l e f o r m s of maladies, and also casualties a n d accidents, take an epidemic form. F o r instance, a m o n g medical cases, if t h e r e h a p p e n s , a f t e r a long interval, to come in a solitary case of valvular disease of the heart, it is very likely t h a t , f r o m one q u a r t e r or a n o t h e r , t h e r e will rapidly follow, two, t h r e e , or p e r h a p s four or five, more cases of the same comp l a i n t ; all coming, in this m a n n e r , in a h e a p . T h e same with accid e n t s f r o m severe b u r n s , or f r o m powder-explosions, and also from

City Photographs

45

concussions of the brain, or remarkable cases of fracture, of some particular part. Dislocation

of Jaw,

from

Gaping

Dr. North had quite a curious case, on Wednesday, of a woman who came there with a dislocated lower j a w , from gaping. The j a w hung quite helpless, but firmly fixed—and had been so for eighteen hours. The poor woman refused to become an inmate of the Hospital, but was very anxious to be treated at once—which D r . N. proceeded to do. She was etherized; the j a w was then pressed in a proper manner, and put back in its connections, almost in an instant. The poor woman was then brought to, with as good a jaw as ever, and went away rejoicing. I take this opportunity to thank the surgeons of the Hospital for the opportunity of seeing several very fine operations, and for their interesting explanations of them to me, before and afterwards. Most Numerous

Diseases

Throughout the Hospital, amid the long list of diseases, the most numerous (the past year, for instance, to give the reader an idea) are such as intermittent fever, of which there were 233 cases; rheumatism, 205 cases; remittent fever, 125; typhoid, 9 5 ; bronchitis, 62; delirium tremens, 79; phthisis (pulmonary consumption), 167; rubeola (measles), 131; pneumonia (inflammation of lungs), 49; ulcer, 120; erysipelas, 49; dysentery, 35; dyspepsia, 23; and of abscess, 42 cases. There have been 109 cases of incised wounds—9 of them of the throat; 85 cases of lacerated wounds; 62 of gunshot wounds; and 75 of the scalp. There have been 10 cases of poisoning (technically called), 6 of them by opium; 6 of sun-stroke (all recovered). Any quantity of contusions and fractures ; of the latter, 25 of the skull; 24 of the wrist alone; 15 of the clavicle (collar b o n e ) ; 16 of ribs; 41 of the femur (thigh-bone); about 140 cases of broken leg, &c. I cannot begin to mention the various remarkable surgical cases that come to this Hospital. These, with the endless string of medical cases, throat diseases, fevers, &c.

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

46

Nativity

of

Patients

O u t of 3,363 patients the p a s t y e a r , 1,415 were natives of the United States, 1,042 of I r e l a n d , 374 of G e r m a n y , 190 of E n g l a n d , 70 of Scotland, and the remainder divided among the rest of t h e world. Grand

Total

of

Patients

T h e whole number of patients treated in this g r a n d old H o s p i t a l , from its outset in 1792 down to the 1st d a y of J a n u a r y , 1862, has been 122,805. Even this number, however, does not include the whole of the patients t h a t may be r i g h t f u l l y said to belong in t h e sum total of those treated in the H o s p i t a l f r o m its origin. Bloomingdale

Insane

Asylum

This is considered a p a r t of the establishment, being under t h e same control, Governors, and financial supervision, as the H o s p i t a l I have been sketching. I shall sketch the Bloomingdale Asylum in a future Paragraph.1 Conclusion This B r o a d w a y H o s p i t a l , in its history, really dates back to t h e year 1770, before the Revolution. I t s c h a r t e r f r o m the Royal Governor is as old as t h a t ; its first building was b u r n t down, 28th F e b r u a r y , 1775. Another building was erected, however; a n d then the Revolutionary war i n t e r r u p t e d good works. D u r i n g t h e occupation of New York, the H o s p i t a l was seized a n d used by the British, for their sick, a n d as barracks. A f t e r the close of the w a r , as soon as possible, the f o u n d e r s ' plans were resumed and carried out—on the 3d of J a n u a r y , 1791, the first official statement of patients being rendered. F r o m t h a t time, down to date, it has continued on its course, almost every year increasing its facilities, as well as bringing a larger call upon it, until now its stands in the f r o n t rank of such establishments, especially for surgery. 1

The present writer has found no trace of this article in the files of the New York Leader from 1862 to 1865 inclusive.

City Photographs

47

I will not take the ungracious course of mentioning certain points where change and reform need to come in to-day, but prefer to be thankful that an institution so complete, and with such advantages, is situated down town here in New York, always ready to dispense its curative and surgical blessings. VELSOR

BRUSH.

City Photographs V THE BOWERY Strolling

Thither

Last Monday—The

Name

Along the crowded sidewalks—along, up the hill that opens Chatham square into the Bowery, and so advancing into that great thoroughfare, I had such a pleasant time strolling last Monday afternoon, enveloped on all sides with hubbub, haste, and countless thousands of people—I must here resume the thing, after a fashion, and tuck you, reader, under my arm. Then the reminiscences that flit around us as we stroll—we will arrest them too. The Bowery ! Pleasing phrase or name, of arboricultural assumptions, which I am in favor of retaining now and forever; but it must be confessed the verdure of the place is at present very bogus. A brown and faded cedar branch or two, nailed on top of an awning-post—the puny flower-pots of the "Apollo summer garden" and the drab and brown collections in "the old herb root store," are the sole remains of this once so copiously rural, shrubby, viny, orchardy, cabbagey road. And then, considering its Dutch origin, and the marks it once afforded of their habits and customs—how ridiculous are the fates ! Now we see on the spot the pavement called Dutch, and every third or fourth cellar seems to be a small domestic factory of cheap Dutch caps for men and boys, set forth in array about the coping. The Four Crossing

Rivers

Here, at the lower end of the Old Bowery (for the street is now cut through with a wide swathe, and runs down to Franklin square, but the currents that have so long ebbed and flowed in the old

48

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

channels seem h a r d to be diverted, so t h a t t h e New Bowery, below there, is very much like an illegitimate o f f s p r i n g that don't yet succeed to a n y of the p r o p e r t y , although it may one of these d a y s ) . H e r e , at the outset of the Bowery, we p l u n g e at once into tides, indeed real vortices, of some of our modern kinds of life in a g r e a t city, and significant, in certain respects, of this city, out of all the rest of the world. H e r e C h a t h a m street, C a t h a r i n e a n d Division streets a n d the Bowery, all come together, and, as it were, fall in and deliver and t r a n s f e r to each other, like four big rivers. H e r e pass the purchasers to the numerous second-hand auction shops of the square. (You can see the heaps of goods, household, &c., j u s t yonder.) H e r e precipitate themselves, early in the forenoon, hundreds and thousands of delicious New York girls, going to their work, to all kinds of shops down t o w n ; a n d by this route of course they r e t u r n , very thick, between six a n d seven in the evening. H e r e cross, a n d criss-cross, myriads of m e n — y o u n g and would-be young men—old and middle-aged, native and foreign, J e w s and Gentiles. H e r e you may catch, as it passes in large quantities, the physiognomy of "the east side of the town." H e r e , if there h a p p e n s to be an alarm of fire in the Seventh or E i g h t h D i s t r i c t , you will, in its fullest extent (and with j o y , if you accept strong sensations, and take the precaution to brace yourself by an iron l a m p - p o s t ) , realize the practical meaning of the p h r a s e , "h—1 broke loose," and will f a n c y t h a t there is now going to be a p o w e r f u l demonstration made toward the extinction of the long-talked-of and dreaded element of those regions. Much more d e m a n d s its little jot here, where these four streets come together, and where, p e r h a p s , the most pronounced personal a n d idiomatic New York characters, or the germs thereof, are to be found on exhibition, in one way or another. But let us move on.

Sights

and Sounds,

etc.—Carpet

Stores

T h e sounds, the sights, are indeed those of the Bowery, not of its high-bred, aristocratic brother, half-a-mile off. But these, too, give pleasure, though different f r o m those. T h e scale here is conventionally lower, but it is more p u n g e n t . T h i n g s are in their working-day clothes, more democratic, with a broader, j a u n t i e r swing, and in a more direct contact with vulgar life. C a r p e t stores exist in the Bowery. You will be sure to know the

City Photographs

49

spot;—sometimes one—sometimes two or three stores together— oppressively gorgeous. Nos. 19 and 67 Bowery—and then the celebrated Andersons, 99, 103, and I think, still a third place, immediately above (for I like to specify, and also here asseverate, once for all, that when I do so specify, I do it to give definiteness to my sketch, and don't get a cent for it, honest). Carpet stores ! Let me privately confess to a weakness, about this time of year,—a strange propensity, to wander off and go and stand on the other side of the way, opposite one of these flowery establishments, and gaze. I t is, perhaps (although you ain't sure), a four or five story brick-fronted house, pierced with windows. But you see neither brick front nor windows. I t is poured over, from the very roof down, with the richest, intensest colors, in worsted, silk, ingrain, three-ply, tapestry and rug—all glistening, variegated out there in the strong sunlight. Swooping down, I say, from the very eaves, long, slender cataracts of crimsons, greens, blues—just swaying in the wind. Or, if you please, covered over with costly banners, heavy woven—here they hang forth, so much of them that you can't see anything else from top to bottom, only little gaps, j u s t off the sidewalks for you to pass in. Bowery

Hotels

At Bayard street we come to the hotels—wherein, too, our Bowery has things after its kind. A great reference, upon investigation, to that large and substantial, but not fashionable class, who (as he who runs may read) have come from the country. In the groups at the doors, in the dining rooms, at the bars, you smell the fresh smell of market wagons, cattle on the hoof, the well-loaded schooner or hay-boat, and also smell money in the pocket, besides. Here are the Worden House, the New England Hotel, Held's Hotel, and others—all deserving custom, and getting it. Supercilious youths, at the new Delmonico's, or the huge pale-faced F i f t h avenue, will, of course, turn up their noses at restauration and a night's repose in the Bowery, near Bayard street. But what do you care, you full-blooded samples from the rural districts, and from marine bays and sounds, as you eat your hearty dinner or supper, or, early retiring, sleep without demur, having deposited a well-stuffed pocket-book in the safe in the office, or haply under your pillow?

50

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

Yet t h e complexion of this p a r t of the B o w e r y is not invariably t h a t of conscious innocence. N a y , it must be said t h a t the pocketbooks j u s t alluded to sometimes go home shorn of their good p r o portions by methods t h a t are not p a s t o r a l , nor related to p o u l t r y or pork. The

Sports

and

the

Branch

F r o m B a y a r d street up to Canal, we, by the exercise of our perceptives, make discovery of a n u m b e r of young a n d middleaged gentlemen out of t h a t class to which an expressive a r t of nomenclature, (by no means the least of the fine a r t s ) flourishing wild among young fellows in New Y o r k , has adopted and affixed the name of the Sports. These a d j o i n i n g public-houses a n d basement saloons a r e off and on sprinkled with t h e m — n o t so full as they used to be years ago, for the war has d r a w n off many of them, best and w o r s t ; but I notice some handsome fellows l e f t s t a n d i n g about, with cigars in their mouths. H e r e is the Branch. H e r e is the Bowery T h e a t r e , whereof we will have more to say in our next. H e r e used to be on this block, a little realm, full of little potentates f r o m the stage of the t h e a t r e , the saw-dust of the circus, and the a r e n a of the professionally trained fighting-man. H e r e , winter a f t e r w i n t e r , were Levi N o r t h , H i r a m F r a n k l i n , Melville and M a c f a r l a n d , to be daily seen. H e r e T o m H a m b l i n reigned, and J o h n R. Scott a n d f a t Tom F l y n n , a n d f u n n y Gates. The Reception

of Tom

Hyer

1

Whoever was present at the B r a n c h , or indeed anywhere in the lower p a r t of the Bowery, the night a f t e r the famous pugilistic victory, thirteen years ago, won by T o m H y e r over Yankee Sulli1 Tom Hyer, horn in 1816, started life as a butcher-boy in the Old Centre Market. Successfully trained there in the manly art of self-defense, he turned professional, and in his first fight defeated a cabman, known as "Country McClosky." His match with Yankee Sullivan aroused great interest. Sullivan, an escaped convict from Australia, was the favorite in the betting. His real name was James Sullivan; his nickname arose out of his habit of fighting in the ring with an American flag about his waist. The fight between Sullivan and Hyer took place in 1849 at Rock Point,

City Photographs

51

van, saw what a culmination and torrid heat of enthusiasm the east side of the town could be capable of. H y e r was a young butcher, who represented the prowess of the markets, the dock, Columbia street and the Bowery, all combined. T h e fellows, the firemen, &c., made his cause a personal one, and when he came back t o w a r d the close of the day triumphant, and it was known that his headquarters were at the Branch, and that he himself was or would be then and t h e r e present, of course that row a d j a c e n t to the Bowery T h e a t r e was besieged, jammed all night with clustered crowds, as by bees migrating and hiving. I t proved a matter of life and death then to get inside through the doors of the Branch, or to get out either. I suppose no hero ever received more of an ovation, genuine or characteristic, than Tom did at the Branch that night. Circus-men,

Showmen,

etc.

The public houses along here used to be filled winters with the circus-men, showmen, &c. You will see a few driblets of such remaining; but the former and peculiar glories of the neighborhood of the Branch seem to have taken to themselves wings. I saw, last Monday, as I walked by, t h a t the place itself had moved and hung out its shingle two or three doors f u r t h e r off. Migration

of the

Sports

I think the Bowery, this section of it, is the birthplace, and was for a long time the chosen and favorite ground, of the Sports of New York. H e r e they held their revels, even the first class ones ; here they reigned supreme. But it is in the fortunes and localities of Sports as it is with nations. This quarter may be called the Spain, or perhaps the Poland, of Sportdom. Other powers, new ones, have come up, and on other territories, have outstript it. Now the first class Sports are to be found, as is well-known to whom it may concern, on Broadway, between G r a n d and Bleecker streets. But let not the Bowery despair, nor the range between Bayard Maryland. Hyer became as the result of this match the first white, Americanborn, heavyweight champion. Resolved never to enter the ring again, Tom Hyer announced his retirement, and Yankee Sullivan was then generally recognized as the champion.

52

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

and Canal streets. Fashions of all kinds ebb and flow, with unaccountable caprice. Some time, p e r h a p s soon, the curious eddies may whirl back right in t h e direction of t h a t old neighborhood again. For Spain is coming u p ; her old glory seems renewed, and to glint brightly. ( B u t what dare I say for P o l a n d ? ) I shall speak of the Bowery T h e a t r e next week, a n d then ramble f a r t h e r on. VELSOR

City

BRUSH.

Photographs V I

THE The

BOWERY Old

Theatre

Into any veracious sketch of the route we are sketching, there ought to enter, a n d f o r m a good constituent p a r t thereof, something about the Bowery Theatre-—the Old Bowery, as, even a f t e r its coming up new f r o m f r e q u e n t destructions by fire, it has long been called. 1 I n d e e d , there might be made, not only one sketch, but a good-sized a n d very interesting volume, exclusively devoted to this dramatic temple. My first personal knowledge of the Bowery T h e a t r e was about twenty-seven or eight years ago, when I was a lad of fifteen. Five

or Six

Lustrums

Since

J u s t before t h a t period, a f t e r a d r e a r y season of depression a n d j u s t keeping of heads above water, the fortunes of the Bowery were suddenly raised by the bringing out of t h e thrilling melodrama of " J o n a t h a n B r a d f o r d , or the M u r d e r a t the Roadside I n n , " which filled the house week a f t e r week, a n d had an astonishing and long, long run. 2 This s t a r t e d the Bowery on a career of prosperity that continued for fifteen or t w e n t y years. ι This theatre burned down four times, in 1828, 1836, 1838, and 1845. The second time it burned down, on September 22, 1836, it caused a loss to Hamblin, who had recently become sole proprietor, of about sixty thousand dollars. The theatre was then rebuilt and opened anew on January 2, 1837. - T h i s play was first given at the Bowery Theatre on September 23, 1833, with Hamblin in the role of Jonathan Bradford.

City Photographs

53

"The Golden Farmer" was another very successful piece, a season or two afterwards. ( B u t this last drew better at the little Franklin Theatre, down in the square—on account of the real genius of the acting in it of William and John S e f t o n . ) 3 T h e n there was "Mazeppa" (then span-new and w e l l - p l a y e d ) , with Gale and a well-trained y o u n g horse. 4 Also, " T h e Last D a y s of Pompeii," a capital melodrama. 5 I n this, Hamblin was great as Arbaces the E g y p t i a n , Ingersoll as a gladiator,® T h o m e as a y o u n g Pompeian noble, 7 and Mrs. F l y n n 8 as N y d i a , a blind flower girl. These, and other new and successful pieces, and the regular routine of Shakespearean plays, &c., ranged through four or five years, after the production of "Jonathan Bradford."

Hobbledehoy

Recollections

A l l these are among my hobbledehoy dramatic reminiscences. I saw them all from the time I was fourteen till seventeen or eighteen. A t first, I remember, I used to go with other boys, my p a l s ; but I afterward preferred to go alone, I was so absorbed in the performance, and disliked any one to distract my attention. L e t 8

The play, The Golden Farmer, which created a great sensation, was first produced at the Bowery Theatre on January 18, 1834. The Franklin Theatre, which could seat at the most about six hundred people, was first opened on September 7, 1836, and The Golden Farmer was given there on October 6, 1838. William Sefton in the part of the Golden Farmer and John Sefton as Jeremy Twitcher made this play extraordinarily popular, and it was repeated over one hundred times during the season. * The equestrian drama, Mazeppa, was produced at the Bowery Theatre on July 22, 1833, with Gale in the role of Mazeppa and Mrs. Gale as Oneiza. The spectacle of the horse, to the back of which the hero is tied, made this play a popular success. I t was revived on February 20, 1837, and played every night for four successive weeks. Cf. C. P. W., VI, 189. ο First produced on February 9, 1836, this play, an adaptation by Miss Medina of Bulwer's novel, was highly popular and had a continuous run of one month, and was frequently revived. 8 David Ingersoll, a young tragedian, first appeared in New York on December 27, 1833. He died in St. Louis in 1837. 7 Charles Robert Thome, born in New York in 1814, made his début at the Park Theatre on April 23, 1829, but soon a f t e r joined the Chatham and Bowery Theatres. β Mrs. .Flynn, wife of the actor and stage manager Thomas Flynn, made her first appearance at the Bowery Theatre on October 18, 1832, and was a prime favorite. She died on October 28, 1851, at the age of thirty-seven.

54

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

m e c o n f e s s how I romance-devourer theatre-goer. But of a child of t h e

c r a m m e d all t h a t r a n g e of t i m e as a n i n s a t i a b l e ( f r o m a circulating library) and a perpetual it was v e r y p l e a s a n t . I l l u s i o n s of y o u t h ! D r e a m s Bowery !

I used to go e a r l y a n d get a good seat in the p i t . I t w a s no such p i t a s it a f t e r w a r d s became, a l t h o u g h t h e B o w e r y a l w a y s showed more d e m o c r a c y a n d b e t t e r a n i m a l specimens t h a n t h e P a r k T h e a t r e ( w i t h which house I was p e r f e c t l y f a m i l i a r ) . T h e d a r k g r e e n c u r t a i n b e f o r e m e — t h a t c u r t a i n of curious s t u f f , like Chinese c r a p e ! W h a t a mimic w o r l d of heroes a n d h e r o i n e s , a n d loves, a n d m u r d e r s , a n d p l o t s , a n d h o p e s , a n d all which swells a n d p a n t s in a h o b b l e d e h o y ' s i m a g i n a t i o n , t h a t same c u r t a i n signified a n d f o r m e d a wall to b y - a n d - b y m a k e way for ! I t used to go u p ( f o r I noticed e v e r y l i t t l e t h i n g ) with quick a n d g r a c e f u l l e a p s , like t h e h o p p i n g of a r a b b i t — a n d to come d o w n a t the e n d of t h e p l a y like a quick g r e e n w a t e r f a l l . I t a l w a y s g a v e me a n odd delight to see t h e m a n n e r of t h i s c u r t a i n ' s motion. I liked it b e t t e r t h a n t h e h e a v y , slow, dignified r o l l i n g u p or d o w n of t h e p a i n t e d c a n v a s of t h e P a r k , which I r e m e m b e r used to s t r i k e the s t a g e a l w a y s w i t h a b o u n c e — ridiculous, like some r e c a l l i n g j o l t or n u d g e , a f t e r the p a t h e t i c conclusion of t r a g e d y . Booth's

Richard,

(in His

Prime)

I recollect with vivid distinctness, s o m e w h e r e a l o n g this t i m e , one of old B o o t h ' s p e r f o r m a n c e s — h i s g r e a t R i c h a r d 9 — o n a n i g h t t h a t f o r m e d a n e r a in the e x p e r i e n c e of t h e a t r e - g o e r s , f o r y e a r s a f t e r w a r d s , a n d i n d e e d d o w n to this d a y . F o r y o u m a y yet h e a r t h a t n i g h t s p o k e n of a m o n g the e l d e r N e w Y o r k e r s , a n d some of t h e best specimens of t h e m , t o o ; f o r t h e c a p a c i o u s house w a s c r o w d e d ( i t was T o m F l y n n ' s b e n e f i t ) 10 with a n a u d i e n c e of a s good men as the city could t u r n out. T h e prices of t h e B o w e r y were t h e n seventy-five cents to t h e boxes, a n d t h i r t y - s e v e n to the pit. I t was a f a v o r i t e r e s o r t f o r y o u n g β

Junius Brutus Booth began an engagement at this theatre as Richard III, on November 13, 1833. Thomas Flynn, born in England, December 22, 1804, was a close friend of Junius Brutus Booth and was stage manager of the Bowery Theatre in 1833-34.

City Photographs

55

New York, of a somewhat different type from the young New York of the present day. Booth at this period was in his pride and prime. H e was irregular, it is t r u e ; that is, he did not always act with sustained perfection, from beginning to end of the play—for he had strange moods and caprices, and followed them. But when the elements were propitious, and he gave the audience what he was capable of throughout, you saw and heard something to be remembered for your lifetime, and to give you new standards, and the highest ones, of art. And it was such a performance, that took place here at the Old Bowery, some twenty-four or five years ago (or a trifle more or less). I had a good seat in the middle of the pit. The audience was electric—just the kind to call out a great actor's best. He was well supported. Ingersoll played Richmond. (What middle-aged New Yorker, of the east side of the town, but remembers young, manly yet, boyish Ingersoll, Hamblin's pet? And how he used to play such parts as Phythias, to Forrest's Damon? 11 and the brother of Spartacus, in the " G l a d i a t o r ? " 12 and Cassiut, in "Julius Caesar?" For such were the plays, and finely sustained, that we used to go and see at the Old Bowery.) Charley T h o m e , who was then young and strong, and rosy and full of fire, played Tressel. The character has but one speech—but that's a tip-top chance. I am not sure but it was T h o m e ' s debut in New York. 1 3 At any rate, I remember that in that speech, to the old king in the garden, he came upon the audience, and apparently upon the actors, too, like a sudden revelation—he threw into it the power of an avalanche, and very great pathos. I recollect the audience rewarded him with two distinct rounds of applause; and from that moment he was in the front rank of the Bowery favorites. Of Booth himself, from beginning to end, he not only seized and awed the crowded house, but all the performers, without excepII Edwin Forrest first appeared at the Bowery Theatre on November 6, 1826. On November 27, 1833, after an absence of four years, he again played at this theatre in the character of Damon. i2 This play, written for Forrest by Dr. Bird, was first produced at the Park Theatre on September 26, 1831. is According to Ireland (Record* of the New York Stage, I, 698), Thome made his stage début in the role of Octavian.

56

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

tion. I t was one of those achievements of acting, in a certain sense, too good and too powerful for the ordinary reward of hand-clapping or bravos of applause. The dream-scene, the night before the battle, the fight with Richmond, and the fierce and demoniac death, were all incomparable. A hundred times since, off and on, in one place or another, I have met persons who were there—who saw Booth's great Richard, on the occasion of Tom Flynn's benefit; and upon comparing notes I have found that the acting of the man that night produced the same ineradicable impression upon them all. And some of them had seen the greatest actors of the British or Continental theatres. Comparison!,

etc.

I went to see the old man's son, Wilkes, play his Richard, during his engagement a month or so at Mary Provost's theatre, having heard the said Wilkes' acting praised. I t is about as much like his father's, as the wax bust of H e n r y Clay, in the window down near Howard street, a few blocks below the theatre, is like the genuine orator in the Capitol, when his best electricity was flashing alive in him and out of him. From what I have gleaned of old stage-frequenters, here and abroad, I have made up my mind that in a comparison of J . B. Booth and Edmund Kean, the advantage of the latter mainly was that he was almost uniformly good; but that Booth, with his fitful flashes, though soaring very high, often failed to keep up to his own mark. Yet, at times, at rare times, Booth probably played beyond all actors that ever lived. Tom

Hamblin

One little paragraph must be specially devoted to him. He was best in such characters as Coriolanus, for instance. H e was of the Kemble school, and his large size, good build, and classic physiognomy, told greatly, of course, in all his performances. His fortunes in his management ranged through the usual ups and downs, but as a favorite actor with the public Hamblin held out to the last. But a little while before his death, at quite an advanced age, he played a very successful and drawing engagement. 1 4 1« Thomas S. Hamblin, born in England, May 14, 1798, or, according to another authority, in 1800, became manager of the Bowery Theatre in 1830,

City Photographs John R.

57

Scott15

There are many, and good judges, too, who always preferred Scott to Forrest. They resembled each other in physique and in style of acting; but Scott had, in the sentimental passages, a more winning voice and more magnetism with his audience. Perhaps some old frequenter of the Bowery will remember Scott, some twenty-five years ago, in a piece called "The Sledge-Driver," the scene laid in Russia, and the plot somewhat like that of "The Lady of Lyons." It was full of manly tenderness, and Scott 1 8 acted it always to admiration. He was tip-top also in nautical character. Other

Performer»

Among others that I recall of the Bowery in those times are, among the women, Mrs. Pritchard (with her unsurpassed Lady Macbeth, and her Margaret in "La Tour de N e s l e " ) ; 1 7 Mrs. McLean, 18 Mrs. Herring, 19 Miss Woodhull, 20 and the plentifulsized Mrs. Stickney; 21 and among men, Jackson, 22 (afterward manager), George Jones, 28 &c. and a f t e r a long and varied career both as actor and manager, died on J a n u a r y 8, 1853. ι» This actor made his first appearance at the P a r k Theatre, in the play Macbeth, on J u l y 2, 1828, not making his début a t the Bowery Theatre, where he became a great favorite, until August 11, 1834. H e died in 1856. ie Mrs. Planche's drama, The Sledge Driver, was first produced at the Bowery Theatre on September 15, 1835. Scott played the role of Ivan Daniloff and scored a huge success. if Mrs. F. Pritchard (really her maiden name), a native of England, last appeared on the New York stage in 1836, and died in 1843. is Mrs. McLean first appeared on F e b r u a r y 10, 1835, at the P a r k Theatre. She was not a first-class actress but played well in minor roles. ι» Mrs. H e r r i n g first played a t the Bowery Theatre on November 18, 1833, and was a favorite there for a long time. 20 Miss Clara Woodhull, who later married the tragedian, Alexander Pickering, made her début a t the Richmond Hill Theatre and a f t e r w a r d s played at the Bowery Theatre. She died in 1837 at the age of nineteen. 21 Mrs. Stickney, formerly Mrs. Jones, made her first appearance at the Bowery Theatre on November 6, 1834. Because of her great corpulence, she was later forced to play the parts of "old women." 22 A. W. Jackson, born in 1806, became manager of the Bowery Theatre in 1845, where he amassed a fortune. H e died in 1866. 23 George Jones, who used to play a t the Bowery Tlieatre, proudly called

58

W a l t Whitman and the Civil W a r

I see I have so far forgotten to mention Miss Medina, the authoress, whose pieces were always good and successful, and who was afterwards the second Mrs. Hamblin. Then there was Mrs. Shaw. 24 Farewell,

Old

Bowery!

But nearly all I have named are dead, and the old theatre seems, these current days and nights, to sulk and mourn for them. I went by there the other night, and it was all gloomy enough. No more crowds around, no gas-clusters beaming down light in showered plenty, no more prosperous peanut stands. So farewell, Old Bowery Theatre ; and, for our next, let us take in hand the "German element," namely lager bier, and the scenes and persons clustering round it. VELSOR

BRUSH.

City P h o t o g r a p h s VII THE BOWERY Lager

Beer,

The

Germans,

etc.

The Bowery, and the demesnes east of it, represent the real democratic lager element of New York. There is lager enough on Broadway, but it is not imbibed, as it is here, with the genuine workingman's thirst ; nor associated, as here, with so many memories of friendship, and with the ideas of relief from toil, and with the social relaxations and pleasures of life. All the east side is full of German operatives. To go off for a couple of hours of an evening, or six or seven hours of a Sunday, is their main hold upon life outside of their daily work. And these hours are identified with lager. himself "the American Tragedian," and later rendered himself notorious by assuming the name of Count Joannes. See C. P. W., VI, 188. 2 4 Mrs. Shaw, who later became the fourth Mrs. Hamblin, first appeared in America on July 25, 1836, and after 1839 played at the Bowery Theatre where she was an acknowledged favorite for many years.

59

City Photographs A Popular Lager-Beer

Hall in the

Bowery

Through a somewhat lengthy passage, you reach a great round open place, formerly a circus, or something of that kind. H e r e is plenty of room, and the roof of canvas, red, white and blue, makes it all cool and nice for summer. The crowd is dense; they surround the little and big tables, and fill up the interstices. Waiters clutching in their hands astonishing quantities of glasses, glide to and fro, working their way through impossible places, with snake-like agility. (This feat of carrying a couple of dozen glasses in each hand is worth noticing.) There is a stage, with theatrical and lyric performances; also a brass band, in another p a r t of the house, up in a gallery that runs all round the house; the brass is very loud and vehement. Among the audience are numerous descendants of the race that escaped from E g y p t and crossed a certain sea dry-shod. H e r e they are in the Bowery, many of them with hats of the Mose-style. Some of them have brought their wives and babies—the latter they frequently toddle and dance to the sound of the music. Of course Germany predominates, although the European continent is all more or less represented. There are, here and there, young couples, apparently not long married—some of them very loving. But their loving is unnoticed; there is great freedom of the individual permitted here. There are some good-looking women. The best of the matter is a general show of health and hilarity, and those make up for other deficiencies. There is a restaurant on one side of the large room. On another side, cigar and confectionery stands, &c. Somewhere around is a shooting-gallery attached, for amid all the din of the band, the click of glasses, the unrestrained laughter and talk of six or eight hundred people, and the raps on the tables to call the waiters, you hear the crack, crack! of the bogus rifles, firing wooden missiles at a target against the wall (at two cents a shot). Boys run round with trays of pretzels; others with cheap cigars. At a bar off one side, you see three men drinking each a large cylindrical glass of wheat beer—that aristocratic cousin of the popular russet lager. With the rest, you hear the merry pop of the innocent soda water, in bottles, the corks being abruptly liberated from their bonds of twine. I n the midst of all the bell rings

60

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

a n d the curtain rises f o r a p e r f o r m a n c e , in G e r m a n on the stage. Now there is some trouble. T h e r e is an "officer," with big black whiskers, a f e a r f u l looking man, deputed to keep the peace in this reckless assemblage. E v e r y t h i n g has gone on well enough till this moment, but now he becomes f r a n t i c in his futile endeavors to make the standees become seated, so t h a t all can see the magnificent achievements on the stage. But all the evening each one of the mass has been doing what seemed best in his own sight, a n d now the tide is resistless. T h e r e is much hubbub. T h e officer with the ferocious whiskers has a special squabble with a weak, pale-faced young man (evidently a j o u r n e y m a n s h o e m a k e r ) , who has come there to do the handsome with a chosen one of the other sex. T h e pale-faced young man retorts upon the officer with indignation, in a foreign tongue. Whiskers a t t e m p t s to bully him, but the f r a u takes a hand in. T h e n whiskers suddenly beholds (although positively invisible to me and the rest) a mortal row over in a distant p a r t of the hall, which requires his attention and personal presence. Meantime the actors and actresses on the stage proceed with admirable nonchalance, not disturbed in the least by the rumpus, which at one time made more noise by f a r than the play (or whatever it w a s ) . But lo ! a balloon is suddenly let down, as f r o m the high meridian, covered with an inscription in large, strange characters. I ask for their decipherment from a learned person in my neighborhood. H e courteously informs me t h a t it is an advertisement of a ball, of some guild or society, to come off the ensuing week, with the place, price of tickets, &c. I look with horror at this method of abstracting money from the daily and weekly p a p e r s ; also with some curiosity a t t h e ingenious utensil. A f t e r about five minutes it ascends, and is lost to sight. T h e mixture of sounds now affords one who hath ears to hear t h a t sort of thing, something very novel and varied. T h e b a n d up in the gallery plays ambitious pieces f r o m the great composers, &c. ; but it does not d i s t u r b you so much in connection with all the rest. I n every direction are men's voices, animated with lager. T h e r e is much friendship—occasionally an embrace. I hear the orders sung out f r o m the waiters in the r e s t a u r a n t to the carver very plainly. A disturbed i n f a n t , a rod off, is squalling at the t o p

City Photographs

61

of its strength. Then there is the continual clicking of glasses, the calling of friends to each other from outside to inside; a boy crying as he passes with a tray, "Cakes, pretzel, ice cream;" and the pounding of a beefsteak to make it tender back in the restaurant. These are only samples, for there are plenty more to make u p the combination. Such are the sights and sounds at a lager establishment, pure and simple. T h e n there is the larger hall, with dancing accompaniments for the crowd. Lindmuller's Have you never spent an hour of an evening at Lindmuller's dance hall? T h e n you shall go thither with us this instant, only promising t h a t you may consider yourself transported, without expense or trouble, to the east side of the Bowery, opposite Spring street. Lindmuller's might be taken for a large hot-house, with the usual glass roof. I t , too, like the spot previously described, is roomy and democratic and devoted to lager ; but the f u r t h e r specialty here, is in letting j o y be unconfined, and everybody going in for a good buxom dance. U p around the one story, toward the roof, along the pillars and gas-fixing, &c., are trained slender threads of vines ; but their pale green leaves have a suspicion of the artificial. All the ample center of the "halle," a space of sixty or seventy feet by forty, is kept clear for the waltzers. Around this are motley groups, seated or standing, with their glasses of lager, and looking at the dance. I t is about 10 o'clock, T h u r s d a y evening, May 9th, '62. Now a waiter dashes out and sprinkles the floor with a wateringpot. T h e n the waltzing band strikes up—very good music—the young fellows seize their partners, and off they whirl. Now a trivial episode occurs. The "officer" (here shaved very clean) rushes through the crowd of dancers, and taps a young man on the shoulder; the mild young man having violated the etiquette of the hour by engaging in the merry dance with his hat on. T h e young man removes the offending article, and proceeds. T h e crowd of dancers thickens, and becomes thick and agitated. Some grow very red in the face. One fleshy young lady shines con-

62

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

spicuously, like the f u l l moon among the stars. If t h e r e is a n y accidental jostling, it is received with g r e a t good n a t u r e , altogether t h e people seeming to have a first r a t e time. H e r e , too, on one side, is a shooting gallery. A p l a c a r d annexed i n f o r m s patriots who wish to join the a r m y , a n d desire first to p e r f e c t themselves in the a r t a n d m y s t e r y of h i t t i n g the m a r k , t h a t t h e y will here be taught f r e e by an accomplished p r o f e s s o r . Another placard, a little distance off, nominates J o h n C. F r e m o n t f o r the Presidency in 1864. Meanwhile, the young fellows (good-looking and h e a l t h y ) waltz, w a l t z , waltz away. Of course there a r e the inevitable cakes a n d pretzel. VELSOR

BRUSH.

F I F T Y - F I R S T NEW YORK C I T Y VETERANS1

O

N October 29, 1864, there appeared in the New York Times the article, "Fifty-First New York City Veterans," which, though unsigned, was undoubtedly written by Whitman. I t is included in The Uncollected Poetry and Prose,2 and in a footnote 3 Professor Holloway says, "Although this letter is without his signature (probably because of the laudatory mention it contains of George Whitman), it is certainly Whitman's. The article in the Union (see infra, I I , p. 2 9 ) had promised just such a letter; the references at the end of the present communication show that it was written by some one close to, if not a member of, the Whitman family ; the article, cut from the Times, was found, after Whitman's death, in a collection of his news letters with the date of publication marked on it in his own handwriting; and, finally, parts of the material used here are to be found in one of his notebooks dating back to the period." On the reverse side of the cut article, to be found in the Harned Collection, Whitman set down the date on which the article was printed and added, "reg't captured at Petersburg." The notebook to which Professor Holloway refers contains rough and copious notes for an article on this regiment, which in quality and length is almost entirely different from and on the whole greatly superior to the one printed in the New York Times. Can it be that the latter is a condensed or editorially revised version of the article as he originally sent it, or was he forced by the exigencies of space to limit it to a bare and rapid ι The article in the manuscript is without a title. Since it resembles the one which appeared in the New York Timet, it has been deemed advisable to give it the same title. 2 II, 37-41.

3 Ibid., p. 37.

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

64

e n u m e r a t i o n of b a t t l e s a n d e v e n t s ? A t one p o i n t in t h e p r i n t e d a r t i c l e t h e r e is a p a r e n t h e t i c a l r e m a r k , " W e s k i p r a p i d l y over m a n y of i t s j o u r n e y s , s t o p p a g e s , a n d even some of its as space forbids describing them."

fights,

4

T h e r e c a n be no d o u b t t h a t t h e m a n u s c r i p t n o t e s , h a s t i l y w r i t t e n a s t h e y were, would h a v e been a f a r m o r e vivid a n d valuable contribution. T h e y form a racy and d r a m a t i c n a r r a tive which b e a r s in a l m o s t every line W h i t m a n ' s i n d i v i d u a l i t y of s t y l e , a n d y e t is f r e e f r o m t h e i n v o l u t i o n s a n d

idiosyncrasies

which m a r his l a t e r p r o s e . T h e a r t i c l e in t h e N e w Y o r k

Times

is m a t t e r - o f - f a c t a n d wholly u n d i s t i n g u i s h e d . T h e m a t e r i a l j o t t e d down in t h i s n o t e b o o k was g a t h e r e d b y W h i t m a n f r o m c o n v e r s a t i o n s w i t h s o l d i e r s a n d officers d u r i n g his visit t o t h e A r m y of t h e P o t o m a c , t h e n s t a t i o n e d a t F a l mouth and

slowly

recovering

f r o m its d i s a s t r o u s

defeat

at

F r e d e r i c k s b u r g . W h i t m a n , a s we know, h a d g o n e t h e r e t o seek o u t his w o u n d e d b r o t h e r

George. F o r

intimate and

moving

g l i m p s e s of soldiers in a c t i o n , of t h e s t i r a n d m o v e m e n t s of w a r , of c a s e s of i n d i v i d u a l h e r o i s m , t h e d r a f t of t h i s a r t i c l e is u n e q u a l e d b y a n y t h i n g W h i t m a n w r o t e , save his a c c o u n t of t h e b a t t l e of Bull R u n a n d his d e s c r i p t i o n of scenes in t h e hospitals. 51st Ν. Y. Col. Ferrerò

6

S t a r t e d for New York, Oct. 30, '61.—went to Annapolis, and laid in the Camp of Instruction two months & six days. Sailed J a n . 6th '62 in t r a n s p o r t s for H a t t e r a s — t e r r i b l e storm & blow. Some vessels sunk.—Short of water & r a t i o n s — s t a r t e d from H a t teras Feb. 4th up Pamlico S o u n d — a r r i v e d at Roanoake Feb 6th battle of Roanoake,—bombardment of the rebel works, rebel batteries, by our own gun boats near all day on the 7 t h — l a t t e r p a r t * Ibid., pp. 37-38. 5 The Fifty-first Regiment, New York Volunteers Infantry, was formed in New York City, and took for its patronymic the title of Shepard Rifles, in honor of Colonel Elliot F. Shepard. During the war the Regiment had in succession the following Colonels: Edward Ferrerò, Robert B. Potter, Charles W. Le Gendre, and John G. Wright.

65

New York City Veterans

of the day troops landed—Capt. S. Sims 8 & Company G were first ashore—bad weather, raining miserable weather. N o fires would burn &c. men lay in the wet &c.—Morning 8th the battle commenced —51st marched 7 through a horrible swamp to avoid a road battery— the Brooklyn colors were the first planted ashore—the 51st were ordered on in some of the most difficult positions, rebel force 4500 men and several batteries, some of the guns very fine. On the charge, the Brooklyn boys were ahead with the foremost.—loss of the 51st 4 killed and 28 wounded.

Regimentt

Dec. 21 '62 in Ferrerò't

Brigade

Men for duty 170 the three old reg. 180 formerly Reno's 300 35th Mass.—came in brigade 10th Sept 11 New Hamp. came in 1st Oct. Stopt in Roanoake in the barracks till 6th of March—went aboard transports—sailed on the 11th destination unknown—arrived at Slocum's Creek, Neuse river, on the 13th, landed, formed on shore (raining like blazes,) and started for 16 miles distant Newbern, passed lately-deserted barracks, earthworks, &c.— marched 13 miles, and bivouack'd, (rain continues, bad as ever.)— morning of the 14th started f o r 8 Newbern, attack'd the rebels, protected in their breastworks—after 4 hours fighting, the battle was won—(all this was 3 miles from Newbern)—in this affair the 51st lost 103 kill'd and wounded, 8 of them officers 9 —when near Newbern, found it was in flames—that night bivouack'd outside of Newbern— After entering Newbern, (which was not till a week or two after the above battle,) the regiment there till July 5th on which date the 51st starts for Newport News. ( T h e 51st has lost 5 men by drowning.) β Cf.

C. P. W.,

V I I , 160, 214, 250, 260.

7 "debouched" is written above this word. β Above this is written the alternative expression "advanced β The article in the N e w Y o r k

Timet

toward."

gives a different figure, "killed and

wounded, some twelve officers and one hundred and fifty men." ( U . P. I I , 37.)

P.,

66

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

L a n d e d a t N e w p o r t N e w s , J u l y 9 t h , a n d l a y in good q u a r t e r s , till A u g . 2 n d — t h e n s t r u c k t e n t s , a n d w e n t a b o a r d t r a n s p o r t s t o F o r t M o n r o e — f r o m t h e r e w e n t u p t h e P o t o m a c to A q u i a C r e e k , a n d t h e n c e t o F a l m o u t h , o p p o s i t e F r e d e r i c k s b u r g h — A u g . 12, l e f t and arrived a t 1 0 Culpeper Station where they arrived Aug. 14th.— 15th ( u n d e r G e n e r a l P o p e ) moved on to C e d a r R u n , ( t h e r e p i t c h e d i n t o c o r n , s h e e p , a n d v e g e t a b l e s ) — 1 9 t h m a d e u p a l a r g e c a m p fire a n d a t 10 o'clock a t n i g h t moved off to R a p p a h a n n o c k , a t K e l l y ' s f o r d , f o r d e d t h e r i v e r , ( u n d e r a b a d r a i n . ) — A u g . 23d. l e f t a n d the next day reach'd Sulphur Springs.—25th at Warrenton. — A u g 2 9 t h a t B u l l R u n , on t h e 3 0 t h in t h e b a t t l e . — T h i s is t h e t h i r d g e n e r a l e n g a g e m e n t t h e 5 1 s t w a s in, (loss 10 killed a n d 50 w o u n d e d ) 1 1 — t h e y w e r e of g r e a t h e l p in s a v i n g t h e a r t i l l e r y a n d baggage wagons. F r e d e r i c k B. M c R e a d y ( O r d e r l y S e r g e a n t , Co. G . 5 1 s t N . Y . Vol.) 115 S c h e r m e r h o r n S t . 1 2 C a p t . S a m l . H . S i m s Co. G. 5 1 s t N . J. Lieut. F r a n k Butler A b o u t M u l e s — J a n 3 d — f o r e n o o n t h e d r o v e of mules, as m a n y as a t h o u s a n d , g o i n g u p Κ S t r e e t . T h e o u t r i d e r s t h e l e a d e r s a h e a d — t h e obstinate laggard away behind.13 — S e p t 1st l e f t C e n t r e v i l l e a t 5 a. m. a n d a t d u s k , (in t h e m i d s t of t h e d a m n e s t r a i n ) came off t h e s h a r p e n g a g e m e n t 14 of C h a n t i l l y , loss of t h e 5 1 s t , 7 w o u n d e d , some of t h e m p r o v e d m o r t a l — ( t h e above was t h e fourth battle)—marched on a n d on, a b o u t a m o n t h ' s m a r c h i n g , a n d b i v o u a c k i n g — S e p t . 14th t h e fifth battle—the battle of S o u t h M o u n t a i n , — c o m m e n c e d a t d u s k , a n d l a s t e d till n i n e o'clock p. M.—slept on t h e i r a r m s — s l a u g h t e r of r e b e l s h e a v y — l o s s of t h e 10

Above this is written "marched to." 11 Again the figures differ. "The regiment lost ninety-two men in this fight." (U. P. P., II, 38.) is Whitman refers to McReady a number of times in The Wound Dresser. Cf. C. P. W., IV, 134; VII, 155, 214, 250, 262, 268, 271. is As indicated by the date, this was apparently written after Whitman had returned to Washington. For an excellent description of cattle droves passing through the streets of Washington, see C. P. W., IV, 80. i« Whitman had originally written "battle." He later revised it, in order, probably, to avoid repetition of the same word.

New York City Veterans

67

61st 6 killed and 15 w o u n d e d — 1 5 t h and 16th march'd, fought, shot and shell f r o m the enemy p r e t t y heavy—17th Sixth battle Dec. 20 '62. " S h e b a n g s " the little huts of green boughs, pine or what not, p u t up for the impromptu shelter of soldiers in Virginia &c. Monday Dec 22 '62 in the H o s p i t a l on the ground at F a l m o u t h — J o h n Lowerie—Co G . 51st N . Y . — a r m a m p u t a t e d — p l u c k y — ( t r a d e machinist). 1 5 Amos H . V l i e t — f e e t f r o z e n — H o s p i t a l t e n t — 5 1 s t Ν . Y . l e T h o m a s F . Nichols—Co D . Saml. A. A p p e l Co. B. 51st Penn. Vol A d j ' t . Abm. W.

McKee.

T h e 51st has been in seven general engagements, and sixteen skirmishes—acquiring a reputation, (in common with the whole 2d brigade (of the 2nd division of the 9th Army C o r p s ) for endurance, perseverance, a n d daring, not excelled by any in the whole a r m y of the U. S . — a t Antietam and Fredericksburgh they did the work of old v e t e r a n s — A t the former in t a k i n g t h e bridge, (conjointly with the 51st P a . ) the regiment p e r f o r m e d a deed of d a r i n g hardly excelled anywhere. Gen. Burnside pronounced it the best thing he had seen in the whole w a r . — A t Fredericksburgh, the regiment held an i m p o r t a n t hill acting as an advanced picket in force, going on 9 o'clock on the evening of Dec. 14th and holding it till Monday night, a t 12 o'clock—they lay flat on the mud. 17th Sixth battle of Antietam—in this battle the 51st fought the fight for an i m p o r t a n t bridge (see rebellion record,) between two hills—the rebels on one side—advancing on the bridge, shouti n g loudly &c.—(loss 80 or 90 kill'd and wounded) 17 order was « Cf. C. P. W., VII, 95, 135. 18 See p. 133. it "The regiment lost 1000 men here." (17. P. P., II, 38.)

68

Walt Whitman and the Civil W a r

given by Col. Potter to "charge the bridge!"—the 51st did go with a cheer, cleared the bridge, to the end—fight lasted all day—51st were again at the end of the day ordered on further desperate service, taking the bridge again—the battle w a s — Seventh battle, that of Fredericksburgh Col. Robert

B.

Potter

After Colonel Ferrerò was promoted, Lt. Col. Potter became colonel of the Regiment, acting for the first time as such, at the second battle of Bull Run. On inquiry I found his chief merits are courage and coolness. When he orders the men to lie down, for protection in an engagement, he will be very likely to walk coolly in front of them, observing operations all around. " L i e down yourself, Colonel," the men will cry out. "Some of the rebs will see you." " Y e s , " he will answer, "but I want to see them too." 1S The regiment now numbers about 300 men—on the rolls 5 5 0 — started from N. Y. with 1000 total and have had 80 recruits since. They call the new men "bounty regiments"—"$700 men" "healthy beat" a man who would shirk, and make something up "dead beat"—a man who would shirk and not make something up. eating the green corn—grated through tin pans with rough holes pierced in them—the troops had to do this repeatedly in Virginia on Pope's retreat. "army pies" and "wash" hard crackers and coffee, "western milk" i. e. whiskey (when put in your coffee) After a march at dusk, in fifteen minutes after the men get the order to halt, they will have their camp fires burning in all directions, and the grub in process of cooking, coffee, pork, beef, potatoes boiling, chickens, or anything they stole or grabbed in any way. The

balloon—

Monday, Dec. 22—forenoon very pleasant. Sun shining, a partial haze—Saw the balloon up—a great huge, slow moving thing, with te F o r references to Colonel Potter, see C. P. W., V I I , 96, 160.

New York City Veterans

69

a curious look to me, as it crawled up, and slanted down again, as if it were alive. The haze, I suppose, prevented any good use— for it staid up only a little while. A beautiful object to me—a graceful, pear-shaped thing, some 30 by 50 feet, (at a guess.) I examined it, by and by, when it was grappled on the ground, in a picturesque ravine, west of Gen. Sumner's headquarters, swelling up there in its diamond-shaped netting, with a watchful sentry over it night and day. The 51st at Night,

20th

Dec.

My walk out around the camp, 19 the fires burning—groups around—the merry song—the sitting forms—the playing light on the faces—they would tell stories—one would tell a story of a dead man sitting on the top rail of a fence—he had been shot there at sundown, mortally wounded, clung with desperate nerves, and was found sitting there, dead, staring with fixed eyes in the morning— Charley

Parker

Then I heard of Charley Parker, a young man in Company Έ. in the 51st; how he was shot on the advance at Fredericksburgh, died hard, suffered much, frothed at the mouth—his body on the return, found entirely stript by the Secesh, and was decently buried by his companions. How he was a noble, beloved young man; one of the soldiers knew his father, and how than Charley no one could possibly be a greater credit to his family. A clean, gallant soul, lad of the 51st; old Brooklyn. Monday forenoon, Dec. 22.—I write this in the tent of Capt. Sims, of the 51st New York. Sight at the Lacy

house—20

a t the foot of tree, immediately in front, a heap of feet, legs, arms, and human fragments, cut, bloody, black and blue, swelled and 10 Cf. C. P. W., IV, 39-40. 20 Mr. Barton contends that Whitman never visited the Lacy House, but his reasons are inconclusive. "He was not in the Lacy house. He heard soldiers tell that they had seen on the day after the battle these and other

70

W a l t Whitman and the Civil W a r

sickening—in

the garden near, a row of graves ; some

distance

b a c k , a l i t t l e while a f t e r w a r d s , I saw a long row of them. T h e walk along the R a p p a h a n n o c k in f r o n t , a pleasant

shore,

with t r e e s — S e e that old town over t h e r e — h o w splintered, b u r s t e d , crumbled, the houses—some with their chimneys thrown

down—

the h o s p i t a l s — t h e man with his mouth blown out the balloon Sunday D e c . 2 1 s t . Regimental 51st

Inspection Ν.

Y.

Parade V.

F i n e p l e a s a n t day, bright & sunshining but cool enough to f r e e z e ; about 11 o'clock Col. P o t t e r had a regimental inspection, and read the a r t i c l e s o f war. T h e men looked well to me, not in the sense of a march down B r o a d w a y , but with the look of men who had long known w h a t real war was, and taken many a hand i n — h e l d their own in seven engagements, about a score of skirmishes & c . — a regiment t h a t had been sifted by death, disablement &c. from eleven hundred men, (including r e c r u i t s , ) down to about two h u n d r e d — a n y one o f whom had now an experience, a f t e r eighteen

21

months,

worth more, and more wonderful, than all the romances ever writt e n — w h o s e s t o r y , if written out, would be first class. 2 2 F r i d a y , S a t u r d a y , & S u n d a y , D e c . 1.9, 2 0 , and 2 1 , was at F a l mouth, opposite F r e d e r i c k s b u r g h . T h e grub was good—had a tip-top time every w a y . — C a p t . S i m s , L i e u t . F r a n k B u t l e r , O r d e r l y M c R e a d y , and

all used me well

gruesome sights, and he took over their experiences as his own." ( B a r t o n , p. 49.) Y e t in a letter to his mother, dated December 29, 1862, Whitman writes, "One of the first things that met my eyes in camp was a heap of feet, arms, legs, etc., under a tree in front of a hospital, the Lacy house." (C. P. W., V I I , 129.) Cf. C. P. W., I V , 38. 2 1 " F i f t e e n " has been crossed out and "eighteen" written over it. 22 Whitman was extremely proud of the record made by this regiment, and seems to recognize its possible literary value. In one of his articles to the Brooklyn Eagle, March 19, 1863, he refers to this regiment as "that old war worn regiment whose flag has flaunted through more than a score of hotcontested battles, the Fifty-first New Y o r k . " (C. P. W., V I I , 96.)

New York City Veterans — g r u b good

23

71

— w e n t around among the c a m p s — s a w the h a r d ac-

commodations and experiences of campaign life—the shelter tents — t h e improvised fireplaces in holes in the ground, with small subterranean passages and small mud chimneys, lengthened out by a barrel with both ends knocked o u t — W e n t evenings

among

the

men—heard

their

round mornings conversation

and

&c.—the

bivouac fires a t night, the singing and story telling among the crowded crouching g r o u p s . — E v e r y one speaks so well of G e o r g e — they say he is so brave, steady, is good natured, of few w o r d s — he is now Captain. 2 4 Artillery

drill—Va.

Fai.

Friday

Dec.

26

T h e artillery drill, off on the open plain, the movements by sound of t r u m p e t — T h e battery of six g u n s — t h e order, limber left—the

to

the

horses quickly attached, the trumpet blast a signal, and

off they go. T h e men attached to the guns — P i c t u r e of a battery drill T h e o r d e r — l i m b e r to the front,

the bugle sounds, and off they

go on a full run T h e picturesque scene of a battery drill on the open plains, the men at their positions, the orders,

and signal by

trumpet—off

they go on a run 2 3 Cf. Barton, p. 43. Mr. Barton contends, on the basis of what evidence he does not declare, that the fifth occupant, whose name Whitman left blank, could not have been his brother, George. This last sentence would seem to refute Mr. Barton's statement that Whitman's "note-books do not mention the brother whom he had gone to the front to find." (Barton, p. 44.) Mr. Barton, furthermore, compares this account with the letter Whitman wrote to Nat and Fred Gray ( U. P. P., I I , 21.) and detects, as he claims, a number of flagrant discrepancies. There are really none. He refrains from quoting the passage from the notebook which says, "saw the hard accommodations and experiences of campaign life." Mr. Barton also denies that Whitman "went out under a flag of truce to direct the burial of the dead." (Barton, p. 48.) But he gives no proof to support his charge. As a matter of fact, a despatch from Falmouth, printed in the New York Herald, December 21, 1862, tells us that a flag of truce was sent to the rebel headquarters to ask permission to bury the dead. Men then went across the river to the battlefield which was thickly covered with the unburied corpses. There is no reason to suppose that Whitman could not have taken part in this expedition.

72

Walt Whitman and the Civil War T h e c a n n o n s of p a l e yellow — t h e h u r r y i n g h o r s e s , t h e a m m u n i t i o n w a g o n s , c a r r y i n g an e x t r a wheel b e h i n d — s o m e of t h e i r h o r s e s in t h e r e a r . Antietam—the

fight

at the

bridge.

17th

Sept.

T h i s was a s t o n e b r i d g e over A n t i e t a m C r e e k , in a position n a t u r a l l y a l m o s t i m p r e g n a b l e a n d w a s f o r t i f i e d by t h e rebels. 2 6 O r d e r s w e r e given to c a r r y t h i s p o i n t a t all h a z a r d s , a n d the work w a s d e p u t e d to t h e 5 1 s t Ν . Y . a n d the 5 1 s t P e n n . A t 1 o'clock t h e s e regiments made a charge with the bayonet, c a r r y i n g this through with determination and courage never s u r p a s s ' d . — T h e y cleared t h e b r i d g e , g a i n e d t h e o p p o s i t e side, a n d held i t — i n t h e c o n t e s t losing a l a r g e n u m b e r of officers a n d men. 2 6 The 51st going on pichet, on t h e hill in a d v a n c e , on t h e b a t t l e f i e l d of F r c d e r i c k s b u r g h — S u n d a y 14th D e c . , t h e d a y a f t e r the e n g a g e m e n t — — T h e g e n e r a l e n g a g e m e n t was S a t u r d a y 13th. S u n d a y w a s c o m p a r a t i v e l y q u i e t , with occasional p i c k e t firing. O n S u n d a y n i g h t , t h e 5 1 s t w a s o r d e r e d on a p i c k e t in f o r c e , to relieve t h e men holdi n g a hill in a d v a n c e of our line, south of F r e d e r i c k s b u r g h , p e r h a p s t w o miles b e y o n d t h e river. T h e 51st men w e n t on this d u t y a b o u t 9 o'clock S u n d a y n i g h t . A n y m e m b e r of t h e r e g i m e n t will recollect 2 7 till his d y i n g d a y t h e c i r c u m s t a n c e s of t h i s n i g h t a n d t h e f o l l o w i n g d a y , u p to 12 o'clock M o n d a y n i g h t — t h e r e g i m e n t b e i n g on c o n t i n u o u s d u t y in a m o s t d a n g e r o u s p o s i t i o n about 27 h o u r s . D u r i n g t h e w h o l e of t h a t t i m e , e v e r y one f r o m t h e Colonel d o w n w a s c o m p e l l e d to lie a t f u l l l e n g t h on his b a c k or belly in t h e m u d , w h i c h w a s d e e p a n d t e n a c i o u s . T h e s u r f a c e of t h e g r o u n d , s l i g h t l y e l e v a t e d j u s t s o u t h of t h e m , s e r v e d as a n a t u r a l b u l w a r k & p r o t e c t i o n a g a i n s t t h e r e b e l b a t t e r i e s a n d s h a r p s h o o t e r s , as long a s t h e m e n l a y in t h i s m a n n e r ; b u t t h e m o m e n t t h e m e n r a i s e d t h e i r h e a d s or a limb, even if only a f e w inches, s n a p & o-o-st w e n t t h e w e a p o n s of Secesh. I n t h i s m a n n e r , t h e 5 1 s t r e m a i n e d s p e a d out in t h e m u d , a l l S u n d a y n i g h t , all M o n d a y a n d M o n d a y n i g h t till a f t e r m i d n i g h t . A l t h o u g h the t r o o p s could p l a i n l y h e a r t h e r e b e l s w h i s t l i n g &c. t h e l a t t e r d i d not d a r e to a d v a n c e u p o n t h e m . Al2» "Rebels" is crossed out and "Secesh" written over it, but this is also stricken out. Cf. U. P. P., II, 38. 27 "remember" is crossed out and "recollect" put in its place.

New York City Veterans together this was a night to 51st (as a blind) took up through Fredericksburgh, where they halted and took relieved Tuesday morning, absence. Just

after

early

73

be remembered. Soon after midnight, the their march (the relief soon followed) over the pontoon bridge to Falmouth their old camping ground. The 51st was 16th, about 3 o'clock, after four days'

candle

light—Papers!

Papers!

At dark a horseman will come galloping through the camp, with something white thrown across the pommel of the saddle in front of him, and you will hear the cry, papers ! papers ! Then quite a rush out of the tents, and the shinplasters fly around lively—the New York papers are 10 cents, and the Washington and Philadelphia ones 5. Falmouth.

Tuesday

morning

Dec

23

'62

I write this standing on high slope between Gen. Sumner's headquarters and the railroad terminus down towards the river. The day is soft, brightly beautiful. Down below is spread out a picturesque scene. The countless baggage wagons, with their white roofs, the numerous strings of mules, the railroad locomotive, the broad spread 2 8 of slopes and hills winding their way over the railroad track, and making a huge S. towards the river, which is only a few hundred yards distant, are the whole of the 51st Ν. Y . 51st Penn. and 100 men of the 11th Ν. H. going on picket duty along the shore. Va. On the Falmouth

side, Friday,

Dec.

26th,

'62

Early this morning I walked out, in the open fields, one side of the camp. I found some of the soldiers digging graves—they were for the 51st Ν. Y . and 11th Ν. H . There was a row of graves there already, each with a slat of board, generally a piece of barrelhead, on which was inscribed the name of the soldier. 29 Death is nothing here. As you step out in the morning from your tent to 28 Above this word is written "stretch." se Cf. C. P. W., IV, 38.

74

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

wash your face you see before you on a stretcher a shapeless extended object, and over it is thrown a dark grey blanket—it is the corpse of some wounded or sick soldier of the reg't who died in the hospital tent during the night—perhaps there is a row of three or four of these corpses lying covered over. 30 No one makes an ado. There is a detail of men made to bury them; all useless ceremony is omitted. ( T h e stern realities of the marches and many battles of a long campaign make the old etiquets a cumber and a nuisance.) 31 I walked on over to a camp of teamsters, in the woods—or rather what had been the woods, but was now pretty well cut down; a few trees standing at intervals, stumps all over and plenty of boughs and branches strewing the ground. The teamsters were in groups around, here and there, mostly squatted-—by the fires, idling, or cooking breakfast, &c. Near by was the camp of the 26th Penn., who have been out since the commencement of the war. I talked with a couple of the men, part of a squad around a fire, in the usual enclosure of green branches fencing three sides of a space perhaps 20 feet square— breaks the wind from the north and east. Where there are boughs to be had these sylvan corrals are to met with in all the camps— some of them are built very finely, and making a picturesque appearance for a camp. They serve as the company kitchens, and the same purpose of rendezvous, of an evening that the public house, the reading room, or the engine house, did at home, (describe one of these sylvan corrals) Brigade consists of 51st New York, 51st Penn. and 21st Mass. (about 1800 men.) (See further o n ) — A t Leesboro' Sept. 7th joined by the 35th Mass. with 1000 men. To a stranger the men in the ranks appear great growlers: a large proportion of men in the world even the good fellows would burst if they couldn't grumble. 30 Cf. "A Sight in Camp in the Daybreak Gray and Dim," Inc. Ed., p. 259. 31 Mr. Barton quotes a portion of this passage, p. 45. Cf. C. P. W., IV, 38. In the despatch printed in the New York Herald, December 21, 18G2, we learn that there was no other way of burying the dead than to dig long lines of trenches and heap the corpses in them. Chances of future recognition were thus lost. Cf. "A Sight in the Daybreak Gray and Dim," Inc. Ed., p. 259.

New York City Veterans

75

The men I talked with in the 26th Penn. appeared to be in the best spirits and less growling than any I had met with yet. To a stranger the men in the ranks appear great growlers. By & by you learn this is nothing; a large proportion of men in the world even the good fellows would burst if they couldn't grumble. 32 The tents of this camp were quite comfortable, such moderate weather as we are having now. One of the men came out of a tent close by with a couple of slices of beef, and some crackers, and commenced cooking the mess in a frying pan, for his breakfast. I t looked very good. Another man was waiting with similar articles, to have the use of the frying pan. As I examined the little shelter tent through the open entrance, the ground strewn with pine twigs, and protected on each side with a pine log for an entrance, the knapsacks piled at one end for pillows, (three men asleep in one of the tents.) I thought, rough as it was, that men in health might endure it, and get along with more comfort than most outsiders would suppose— as indeed the condition of the men around me was a tolerable proof. 3 3 The mass of our men in our army are young—it is an impressive sight to me to see the countless numbers of youths and boys—there is only a sprinkling of elderly men. On a parade at evening, there you see them,—poor lads, many of them already with the experiences of the oldest veterans. 3 4 100? The Λ days

fighting—march—on

the

bivouac

A f t e r leaving Newport News for Falmouth (via Aquia Creek) left Falmouth, about 500 men, 36 * brigade consisting of 51st Penn. and 21st Mass. (about 1800 m e n ) — A u g 12 for Culpeper— 36 now begins a most emphatic and experience, being a continued life of rapid marching, on the bivouac, fighting, the sound of cannon, hardly a day intermitted for the best p a r t of 100 days. ( T h e regiment now has a p a r t of M a j . Gen. Pope's A r m y . ) — 1 5 t h Aug. at Cedar run to Kelly's ford—19th started on the retreat, marching double quick most all the way—lay at Kelly's ford region two 32 See C. P. W., IV, 79.

α Ibid., IV, 40. 34 Ibid., IV, 42. »s This refers to the part where Whitman noted "see further on." 30 Whitman left this blank in the notebook.

76

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

d a y s — h a d a fight w i t h t h e r e b e l L o n g s t r e e t — 2 3 r d l e f t K e l l y ' s f o r d , f o l l o w i n g t h e line of t h e R a p p a h a n n o c k , t h e rebels on t h e other side—24th at Sulphur S p r i n g s — l e f t the springs next morni n g , a n d a r r i v e d a t W a r r e n t o n t h e s a m e d a y ( 2 5 t h ) — a l a r m of t h e e n e m y , line of b a t t l e f o r m e d , p r o v e d f a l s e r e p o r t — m a r c h e d to W a r r e n t o n J u n c t i o n , a r r i v i n g 2 6 t h , laid t h e r e t h a t d a y — 2 7 t h started for Gainsville. 2 8 t h s t a r t e d f o r M a n a s s a s , a r r i v i n g t h e r e 2 9 t h . 3 0 t h a n d 31st w e r e e n g a g e d in t h e b a t t l e — 2 d B u l l R u n — t h e t r o o p s b e h a v i n g w i t h g r e a t coolness, c o u r a g e a n d in p e r f e c t o r d e r — A b o u t 11 o'clock a t n i g h t l e f t the b a t t l e field, ( b e i n g t h e l a s t r e g i m e n t t h a t l e f t , a n d h a v i n g t h e c r e d i t of s a v i n g t h e a r t i l l e r y , ) a n d b i v o u a c k ' d t h a t n i g h t a t C e n t e r v i l l e . L e f t t h e l a t t e r p l a c e S e p t . 1st a t 5 A. M., arriving at Chantilly at dusk—here occurring a sharp engagement, ( B a t t l e of C h a n t i l l y ) , l a s t i n g till 10 o'clock a t n i g h t . ( I t r a i n e d f u r i o u s l y a n d t h e conflict w a s in t h e w o o d s . ) S e p t . 2 a t 3 A. M. s t a r t e d f o r F a i r f a x C o u r t H o u s e , a r r i v i n g t h e r e soon a f t e r s u n r i s e •—2 p. m. f o r A l e x a n d r i a , r e a c h i n g t h e l a t t e r p l a c e a t d a r k — S e p t . 3d in t e m p o r a r y c a m p n e a r A l e x a n d r i a — 4 t h a t 8 p. M. s t a r t e d f o r W a s h i n g t o n , — e n c a m p e d a t P a r k G a r d e n in W a s h i n g t o n a t 3 A. M. on t h e 5 t h — 3 7 l a y t h e r e 5 t h a n d 6 t h — 7 t h m a r c h e d f r o m W a s h i n g t o n to L e e s b o r o ' M d . , a r r i v i n g t h e r e the same e v e n i n g — h e r e j o i n e d b y t h e 3 5 t h M a s s . 1000 s t r o n g — 6 t h laid a t L e e s b o r o ' — 9 t h m a r c h ' d to B r o o k v i l l e . 10th m a r c h ' d t o D a m a s c u s — 1 1 t h a n d 12th on t h e m a r c h to F r e d e r i c k C i t y — 1 3 t h t o M i d d l e t o n — 1 4 t h e n g a g e d in t h e B a t t l e of South Mountain ( o n e of t h e fiercest fights of t h e w a r ) — 1 5 t h march'd toward S h a r p s b u r g h — 1 6 t h (as all the past four d a y s , ) fighting, s h e l l i n g , c o n s t a n t f u s i l l a d e s , e v e r y h o u r on t h e a l e r t ; a n d s h e l l i n g t h e e n e m y ) n e a r S h a r p s b u r g , l y i n g till 17th w h e n t h e r e g ' t w a s h o t l y e n g a g e d in t h e battle of Antietam, taking t h i s b r i d g e a t t h e p o i n t of t h e b a y o n e t , ( i n c o n j u n c t i o n w i t h t h e 5 1 s t P a . ) — a n d t o w a r d s n i g h t r i s i n g a n d h o l d i n g it a g a i n s t t h e violent e f f o r t s of t h e e n e m y t o r e t a k e it. ( S e e b a c k . ) 18 l a y in t h e 37

The notebook at this point contains the quatrain in Whitman's handwriting: The greatest march that was ever made Since the days of old King Pharaoh Was the march that was made by the 2d brigade Under Brigadier General Ferrerò. At the bottom of this is written, "Gen Sturgis."

New York City Veterans

77

neighborhood, (no grub for two days,) expecting an attack from Secesh but they now retired for scores and hundreds and hundreds of miles—all this through mud, rain, heat, snow, cold, woods, bog, fording rivers, slipping down steep descents, rocks, climbing upright & hills, exposed, in the first p a r t to the sweltering summer, 38 in the last to severe changes, nipping and cool, amidst an active enemy, in secretiveness, the inhabitants full of treachery and venom, our men often marching without food, often worse, no water, the muddiest water sometimes a precious luxury, dragging their limbs, deadly tiresome, carrying heavy burdens, nature sometimes exhausted, any moment liable to surprise, moving to every point of the compass, hither and yon, now to escape from a superior force, now in pursuit to capture him, through gaps, shoes worn out, feet bleeding, clothing torn, dirty, not only sleeping on the ground in the open air, (that was nothing), sometimes having to scrape away the snow to make a place to lie down,—fighting in some heavy historic battle one day, under arms perhaps all night in the field, resuming the march next day, halting a little whilç on the bivouac a t night and then with knapsack on back and guns on shoulder, again resuming the march for

days— continue this s e 19th encamped two miles distant, near mouth of Antietam Creek— lay in camp there till Oct 7th. At that date moved on to Pleasant Valley, Md., and lay there till the 27th & then struck tents, and crossed the Potomac on a pontoon bridge at Berlin, marching to Lovettsville, Va. arriving there that night—30th marched to near Wheatland, Va. (And now commenced another march, of nine days, bivouacking at night, fighting by day, every day hearing f a r or near the sound of cannon, but oftener near than f a r . 2d. Nov. marched for Purceville, encamping there t h a t night, (they were now following up with Gen. Pleasanton and his U. S. Cavalry the movements of the Secesh Cavalry under Gen. S t u a r t . ) — 3d on to Bloomfield.—4th on to Upperville—5th on over the Piedmont railroad, encamping near Piedmont—6th on the march, (cold spiteful snowstorm,) near Orleans, Va.,—7th lost the road, had to retrace ground, wandering a number of miles, descending a very se "heat" had been crossed out and "sweltering summer" written above it. 89 This passage, beginning with "all this through mud, rain, heat," was very difficult to decipher in the manuscript notebook. The changes that Whitman made in his revision have been recorded in the reading.

78

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

steep, rocky hill, sharp dangerous ledges of rocks, that night laying exhausted in the road and woods, in the snow—8th, started for Jeffersonton, arrived there at night, and bivouac; ( t h e enemy, under Stewart had j u s t l e f t . ) — 9 t h nothing new.—10th no grub— 11 on a reconnoisance, (no grub y e t ) — 1 2 t h at 3 A.M. retired to S u l p h u r Springs—13th had crackers for the first time in several d a y s — 1 5 t h l e f t Sulphur Springs at 7 A. M.,—As soon as our artillery had gone, the Secesh opened their guns on our baggage train, creating a panic among the teamsters—our artillery returned, and silenced them—same day marched to Fayettsville, and bivouack'd t h e r e — 1 6 t h left camp at 7 A. M. and that night bivouack'd near W a r r e n t o n Junction—17th nothing new—18th started for Falm o u t h — 19th encamped on the Rappahannock opposite Fredericksb u r g h — t h u s ending a march of about 100 days, which if properly n a r r a t e d would stand on a par with anything in military movements, ancient or modern. Next comes the battle of Fredericksburgh. 13th—the 51st (as p a r t of the 2d brigade, 2d division, 9th Army Corps, comprising besides it the 51st Penn. 21st Mass. 11th New H a m p s h i r e & 35th Mass.) crossed the river on the 12th—advanced on the batteries on the 13, the day of the battle, fought hotly, and with unflinching courage, in the 40 T h e Chaplain—the doctors (and the general account) of the adequacy of the Chaplain. the mail—the letters in the a d j u t a n t ' s tent—50 letters to be sent off, franked—going to all parts The Doctor's

statement

going

into

battle

When I went down the hill on Falmouth side and saw up the hill on the opposite side, the long rows of batteries, completely protected, we had to advance upon, I felt worse t h a n later in the day, when in the hottest p a r t of the fight.—The enemy had every advantage over us—we had to advance over a considerable open space exposed to their batteries and their i n f a n t r y and sharp*o The manuscript was left unfinished at this point. This note, relating to the Battle of Fredericksburg, properly belongs here: "truth—wounded in battle of Fredericksburgh between 6 and 7000 in fulL"

New York City Veterans

79

shooters protected by rifle-pits. Yet it was deliberately done. (I think there was as much bravery exhibited by our troops, in deliberately advancing, with perfect steadiness, and in their general conduct on Saturday, and sternly holding the field Sunday and Monday as was ever exhibited by any military force in the world.— (Describe the slope on the Falmouth side—the bridge—the advance.—performing surgical operations on the battlefield—Dr. Leonard at Fredericksburgh Saturday on the advance Old vet's, (i. e. veterans)—Skedaddlers—some would skulk, of course, on their way to the fight—but not many. Sight at daybreak—41 in camp in front of the hospital tent on a stretcher, 42 (three dead men lying,) each with a blanket spread over him—I lift up one and look at the young man's face, calm and yellow,—'tis strange ! (Young man: I think this face of yours the face of my dead Christ !) Butcher »hop in the wood* The fenced enclosure in the midst of the woods, for butchering the beef, the just quartered cattle, in huge pieces lying around— the men with rolled up sleeves and stained arms. , & sounds Sight» . & a on the The shriek of the mule at night the roll of drums—the men drilling with their muskets on their shoulders —the enclosures of green boughs, for fires for cooking The graves with slight boards, rudely inscribed with the names. In front of the hospital, the dead brought out, lying there so still, The piece of board, hastily inscribed with the name, placed on the breast, to be ready. The squad at the burial, firing a volley over the grave. 43

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FIRST DRAFT OF "THE ARTILLERYMAN'S VISION

·

Poems

123

After a shot see how he leans aside and looks eagerly off, to see the effect ! Then after the battle, what a scene ! O my sick soul ! how the dead lie, The wounded—the surgeons and ambulances— O the hideous hell, the damned hell of war Were the preachers preaching of hell? O there is no hell more damned than this hell of war. O what is here? O my beautiful young men! O the beautiful hair, clotted! the f a c e s ! 1 3 Some lie on their backs with faces up & arms extended! Surgeons operating, attendants holding lights, the smell of ether, the odor of blood, T h e crowd, O the crowd of the bloody forms of soldiers !—the yard outside also fill'd, Some on the bare ground—some on planks or stretchers—some in the death-spasm, An occasional scream or cry—the doctor's shouted orders or calls. The glisten of the little steel instruments catching the flash of the torches, These I resume as here I c h a n t — I see again the shadowy f o r m s — I smell the odor. 14 Scene

in the woods on the peninsula—told me by Roberts, ward G, (Maine).

Milton

After the battle of White Oaks Church, on the retreat, the march at night—the scene between 12 & 2 o'clock that n i g h t 1 6 at the is Compare with this manuscript fragment: "& the profuse beauty of the young men's hair, damp with the spotted blood, their shining hair, red with the sticky blood,—clotted with spots of blood— —the shining beauty of the young men's hair dampened with clots of blood—" Notice the first tentative statement and then the final revision. 14 Evidently a fragment that had been worked over a number of times and had now reached its final form. Cf. "A March in the Ranks HardPrest, and the Road Unknown" (Inc. Ed., pp. 268-259). i· This is clearly the rough material, the germ out of which grew the beautiful poem, "A March in the Ranks Hard-Prest, and the Road Unknown" (Ine. Ed., p. 268).

124

Walt Whitman and the Civil War

c h u r c h in t h e w o o d s , t h e h o s p i t a l show a t n i g h t , t h e w o u n d e d b r o u g h t i n — p r e v i o u s t h e s i l e n t s t e a l t h y m a r c h t h r o u g h t h e woods, a t t i m e s s t u m b l i n g over bodies of d e a d m e n in t h e r o a d , ( t h e r e h a d been t e r r i b l e fighting t h e r e t h a t d a y , only c l o s i n g a t d a r k ) — w e r e t r e a t i n g , t h e a r t i l l e r y h o r s e s f e e t muffled, o r d e r s t h a t m e n s h o u l d t r e a d l i g h t & o n l y s p e a k in w h i s p e r s 1 6 — T h e n b e t w e e n m i d n i g h t & 1 o'clock we h a l t e d t o r e s t a c o u p l e of h o u r s a t a n o p e n i n g in t h e w o o d s — i n t h i s o p e n i n g w a s a p r e t t y good sized old c h u r c h used i m p r o m p t u f o r a h o s p i t a l f o r t h e w o u n d e d of t h e b a t t l e s of t h e d a y t h e r e a b o u t s 1 7 — w i t h t h e s e it was filled, a l l v a r i e t i e s , h o r r i b l e b e y o n d d e s c r i p t i o n 1 8 — t h e d a r k n e s s d i m l y lit w i t h c a n d l e s , l a m p s , t o r c h e s , m o v i n g a b o u t , b u t p l e n t y of d a r k n e s s & h a l f d a r k n e s s 1 9 — t h e c r o w d s of w o u n d e d , b l o a t e d a n d p a l e , t h e s u r g e o n s o p e r a t i n g — t h e y a r d s o u t s i d e also filled—they l a y o n t h e g r o u n d , some on b l a n k e t s , some on s t r a y p l a n k s , or 2 0 — t h e d e s p a i r i n g s c r e a m s & c u r s e s of s o m e , — t h e m u r k y d a r k n e s s , the g l e a m i n g of t h e t o r c h e s , the s m o k e f r o m t h e m t o o — o u t of their senses, t h e d o c t o r s o p e r a t i n g , t h e s c e n t of c h l o r o f o r m , t h e g l i s t e n i n g of t h e steel i n s t r u m e n t s as t h e flash of l a m p s f e l l u p o n t h e m . 2 1 At Antietam there was a very large barn & f a r m house—the b a r n w a s filled w i t h w o u n d e d , & t h e b a r n y a r d as f u l l as it could ie Whitman has condensed this into two lines : "A route through a heavy wood with muffled steps in the darkness, Our army foil'd with loss severe, and the sullen remnant retreating," (Loc. cit.). i ' Cf. "We come to an open space in the woods, and halt by the dimlighted building, 'Tis a large old church at the crossing roads, now an impromptu hospital," (Loc. cit.). ι» In the poem this becomes, "I see a sight beyond all the pictures and poems ever made," (Loc. cit.). ιβ The poetic transmutation of this line is particularly felicitous : "Shadows of deepest, deepest black, just lit by moving candles and lamps, And by one great pitchy torch stationary with wild red flame and clouds of smoke," (Loc. cit.). so Compare with photostat of former poem. Cf. the following two lines: "The crowd, O the crowd of the bloody forms, t h t yards outside also fill'd, Some on the bare ground, some on planks or stretchers, some in the death-spasm sweating," (Loc. cit.). zi Cf. the facsimile and the lines in the poem, "A March in the Ranks Hard-Prest, and the Road Unknown."

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