Part 4 (1/2)

_Was.h.i.+ngton, Tuesday forenoon, May 19, 1863._ DEAREST MOTHER--... I sent George a letter yesterday--have not got any letter myself from Georgy, but have sent him quite a good many and papers. Mother, what a tramp the 51st has had--they only need now to go to California, and they will finish the job complete. O mother, how welcome the s.h.i.+rts were--I was putting off and putting off, to get some new ones. I could not find any one to do them as I want them, and it would have cost such a price--and so my old ones had got to be. When they came back from the wash I had to laugh; they were a lot of rags, held together with starch. I have a very nice old black aunty for a washwoman, but she bears down pretty hard, I guess, when she irons them, and they showed something like the poor old city of Fredericksburg does, since Burnside bombarded it. Well, mother, when the bundle came, I was so glad--and the coats too, worn as they are, they come in very handy--and the cake, dear mother, I am almost like the boy that put it under his pillow and woke up in the night and eat some. I carried a good chunk to a young man wounded I think a good deal of, and it did him so much good--it is dry, but all the better, as he eat it with tea and it relished. I eat a piece with him, and drinked some tea out of his cup, as I sat by the side of his cot. Mother, I have neglected, I think, what I ought to have told you two or three weeks ago, that is that I have discarded my old clothes--somewhat because they were too thick, and more still because they were worse gone in than any I have ever yet wore, I think, in my life, especially the trowsers. Wearing my big boots had caused the inside of the legs just above the knee to wear two beautiful round holes right through cloth and partly through the lining, producing a novel effect, which was not necessary, as I produce a sufficient sensation without--then they were desperately faded. I have a nice plain suit of a dark wine color; looks very well, and feels good--single breasted sack coat with breast pockets, etc., and vest and pants same as what I always wear (pants pretty full), so upon the whole all looks unusually good for me. My hat is very good yet, boots ditto; have a new necktie, nice s.h.i.+rts--you can imagine I cut quite a swell. I have not trimmed my beard since I left home, but it is not grown much longer, only perhaps a little bus.h.i.+er. I keep about as stout as ever, and the past five or six days I have felt wonderful well, indeed never did I feel better.

About ten or twelve days ago, we had a short spell of very warm weather here, but for about six days now it has been delightful, just warm enough.

I generally go to the hospitals from 12 to 4--and then again from 6 to 9; some days I only go in the middle of the day or evening, not both--and then when I feel somewhat opprest, I skip over a day, or make perhaps a light call only, as I have several cautions from the doctors, who tell me that one must beware of continuing too steady and long in the air and influences of the hospitals. I find the caution a wise one.

Mother, you or Jeff must write me what Andrew does about going to North Carolina. I should think it might have a beneficial effect upon his throat. I wrote Jeff quite a long letter Sunday. Jeff must write to me whenever he can, I like dearly to have them--and whenever you feel like it you too, dear mother. Tell Sis her uncle Walt will come back one of these days from the sick soldiers and take her out on Fort Greene again. Mother, I received a letter yesterday from John Elliot's father, in Bedford co., Pennsylvania (the young man I told you about, who died under the operation). It was very sad; it was the first he knew about it. I don't know whether I told you of Dennis Barrett, pneumonia three weeks since, had got well enough to be sent home. Dearest Mother, I hope you will take things as easy as possible and try to keep a good heart. Matty, my dear sister, I have to inform you that I was treated to a splendid dish of ice-cream Sunday night; I wished you was with me to have another. I send you my love, dear sister. Mother, I hope by all means it will be possible to keep the money whole to get some ranch next spring, if not before; I mean to come home and build it. Good-bye for the present, dear mother.

WALT.

XII

_Was.h.i.+ngton, Tuesday forenoon, May 26, 1863._ DEAREST MOTHER--I got a long letter from George, dated near Lancaster, Kentucky, May 15th; he seems to be well and in good spirits--says he gets some letters from me and papers too. At the time he wrote the 51st was doing provost duty at Lancaster, but would not probably remain so very long--seem to be moving towards southeast Kentucky--had a good camp, and good times generally. Le Gendre is colonel--Gen. Ferrero has left the service--Col. Potter (now brig.-gen.) is in Cincinnati--Capt. Sims, etc., are all well. George describes Kentucky as a very fine country--says the people are about half and half, Secesh and Union. This is the longest letter I have yet received from George. Did he write you one about the same time? Mother, I have not rec'd any word from home in over a week--the last letter I had from Mr.

Lane was about twelve days ago, sending me $10 for the soldiers (five from Mr. Kirkwood and five from Mr. Conklin Brush). Mother dear, I should like to hear from Martha; I wish Jeff would write me about it. Has Andrew gone?

and how is your wrist and arm, mother? We had some very hot weather here--I don't know what I should have done without the thin grey coat you sent--you don't know how good it does, and looks too; I wore it three days, and carried a fan and an umbrella (quite a j.a.panee)--most everybody here carries an umbrella, on account of the sun. Yesterday and to-day however have been quite cool, east wind. Mother, the s.h.i.+rts were a real G.o.dsend, they do first rate; I like the fancy ma.r.s.eilles collar and wrist-bands. Mother, how are you getting along--I suppose just the same as ever. I suppose Jess and Ed are just the same as ever. When you write, you tell me all about everything, and the Browns, and the neighborhood generally. Mother, is George's trunk home and of no use there? I wish I had it here, as I must have a trunk--but do not wish you to send until I send you word. I suppose my letter never appeared in the _Eagle_; well, I shall send them no more, as I think likely they hate to put in anything which may celebrate me a little, even though it is just the thing they want for their paper and readers. They altered the other letter on that account, very meanly. I shall probably have letters in the N. Y. _Times_ and perhaps other papers in about a week. Mother, I have been pretty active in hospitals for the past two weeks, somewhere every day or night.

I have written you so much about cases, etc., I will not write you any more on that subject this time. O the sad, sad things I see--the n.o.ble young men with legs and arms taken off--the deaths--the sick weakness, sicker than death, that some endure, after amputations (there is a great difference, some make little of it, others lie after it for days, just flickering alive, and O so deathly weak and sick). I go this afternoon to Campbell hospital, out a couple of miles.

Mother, I should like to have Jeff send me 20 of the large-sized portraits and as many of the standing figure; do them up flat. I think every day about Martha. Mother, have you heard any further about Han? Good-bye for the present, dearest mother.

WALT.

XIII

_Was.h.i.+ngton, Tuesday morning, June 9, 1863._ DEAREST MOTHER--Jeff's letter came yesterday and was very welcome, as I wanted to hear about you all. I wrote to George yesterday and sent Jeff's letter enclosed. It looks from some accounts as though the 9th Army Corps might be going down into East Tennessee (c.u.mberland Gap, or perhaps bound for Knoxville). It is an important region, and has many Southern Unionists. The staunchest Union man I have ever met is a young Southerner in the 2nd Tennessee (Union reg't)--he was ten months in Southern prisons; came up from Richmond paroled about ten weeks ago, and has been in hospital here sick until lately. He suffered everything but death--he is [the] one they hung up by the heels, head downwards--and indeed worse than death, but stuck to his convictions like a hero--John Barker, a real manly fellow; I saw much of him and heard much of that country that can be relied on. He is now gone home to his reg't.

Mother, I am feeling very well these days--my head that was stopt up so and hard of hearing seems to be all right; I only hope you have had similar good fortune with your rheumatism, and that it will continue so. I wish I could come in for a couple of days and see you; if I should succeed in getting a transportation ticket that would take me to New York and back I should be tempted to come home for two or three days, as I want some MSS. and books, and the trunk, etc.--but I will see. Mother, your letter week before last was very good--whenever you feel like it you write me, dear mother, and tell me everything about the neighborhood and all the items of our family.

And sister Mat, how is she getting along--I believe I will have to write a letter especially to her and Sis one of these times.

It is awful dry weather here, no rain of any consequence for five or six weeks. We have strawberries good and plenty, 15 cents a quart, with the hulls on--I go down to market sometimes of a morning and buy two or three quarts, for the folks I take my meals with. Mother, do you know I have not paid, as you may say, a cent of board since I have been in Was.h.i.+ngton, that is for meals--four or five times I have made a rush to leave the folks and find a moderate-priced boarding-house, but every time they have made such a time about it that I have kept on. It is Mr. and Mrs. O'Connor (he is the author of ”Harrington”); he has a $1600 office in the Treasury, and she is a first-rate woman, a Ma.s.sachusetts girl. They keep house in a moderate way; they have one little girl (lost a fine boy about a year ago); they have two rooms in the same house where I hire my rooms, and I take breakfast (half-past 8) and dinner (half-past 4) with them, as they will have it so. That's the way it has gone on now over five months, and as I say, they won't listen to my leaving--but I shall do so, I think. I can never forget the kindness and real friends.h.i.+p, and it appears as though they would continue just the same, if it were for all our lives.

But I have insisted on going to market (it is pleasant in the cool of the morning) and getting the things at my own expense, two or three times a week lately. I pay for the room I occupy now $7 a month--the landlord is a mixture of b.o.o.by, miser, and hog; his name is G----; the landlady is a good woman, Was.h.i.+ngton raised--they are quite rich; he is Irish of the worst kind--has had a good office for ten years until Lincoln came in.

They have bought another house, smaller, to live in, and are going to move (were to have moved 1st of June). They had an auction of the house we live in yesterday, but n.o.body came to buy, so it was ridiculous--we had a red flag out, and a n.i.g.g.e.r walked up and down ringing a big bell, which is the fas.h.i.+on here for auctions.

Well, mother, the war still goes on, and everything as much in a fog as ever--and the battles as b.l.o.o.d.y, and the wounded and sick getting worse and plentier all the time. I see a letter in the _Tribune_ from Lexington, Ky., June 5th, headed ”The 9th Army Corps departing for Vicksburg”--but I cannot exactly make it out on reading the letter carefully--I don't see anything in the letter about the 9th Corps moving from Vicksburg; at any rate I think the 2nd division is more likely to be needed in Kentucky (or as I said, in Eastern Tennessee), as the Secesh are expected to make trouble there. But one can hardly tell--the only thing is to resign oneself to events as they occur; it is a sad and dreary time, for so many thousands of parents and relatives, not knowing what will occur next.

Mother, I told you, I think last week, that I had wrote to Han, and enclosed George's last letter to me--I wrote a week ago last Sunday--I wonder if she got the letter. About the pictures, I should like Jeff to send them, as soon as convenient--might send 20 of the big head, 10 or 12 of the standing figure, and 3 of the carte visite.

I am writing this in Major Hapgood's office--it is bright and pleasant, only the dust here in Was.h.i.+ngton is a great nuisance. Mother, your s.h.i.+rts do first rate--I am wearing them; the one I have on to-day suits me better than any I have ever yet had. I have not worn the thin coat the last week or so, as it has not been very hot lately. Mother, I think something of commencing a series of lectures and reading, etc., through different cities of the North, to supply myself with funds for my hospital and soldiers' visits, as I do not like to be beholden to the medium of others.

I need a pretty large supply of money, etc., to do the good I would like to, and the work grows upon me, and fascinates me--it is the most affecting thing you ever see, the lots of poor sick and wounded young men that depend so much, in one word or another, upon my petting or soothing or feeding, sitting by them and feeding them their dinner or supper--some are quite helpless, some wounded in both arms--or giving some trifle (for a novelty or a change, it isn't for the value of it), or stopping a little while with them. n.o.body will do but me--so, mother, I feel as though I would like to inaugurate a plan by which I could raise means on my own hook, and perhaps quite plenty too. Best love to you, dearest mother, and to sister Mat, and Jeff.

WALT.

XIV

_Was.h.i.+ngton, Monday morning, June 22, 1863._ DEAR MOTHER--Jeff's letter came informing me of the birth of the little girl,[15] and that Matty was feeling pretty well, so far. I hope it will continue. Dear sister, I should much like to come home and see you and the little one; I am sure from Jeff's description it is a n.o.ble babe--and as to its being a girl, it is all the better. (I am not sure but the Whitman breed gives better women than men.)

Well, mother, we are generally antic.i.p.ating a lively time here, or in the neighborhood, as it is probable Lee is feeling about to strike a blow on Was.h.i.+ngton, or perhaps right into it--and as Lee is no fool, it is perhaps possible he may give us a good shake. He is not very far off--yesterday was a fight to the southwest of here all day; we heard the cannons nearly all day. The wounded are arriving in small squads every day, mostly cavalry, a great many Ohio men; they send off to-day from the Was.h.i.+ngton hospitals a great many to New York, Philadelphia, etc., all who are able, to make room, which looks ominous--indeed, it is pretty certain that there is to be some severe fighting, may-be a great battle again, the pending week. I am getting so callous that it hardly arouses me at all. I fancy I should take it very quietly if I found myself in the midst of a desperate conflict here in Was.h.i.+ngton.

Mother, I have nothing particular to write about--I see and hear nothing but new and old cases of my poor suffering boys in hospitals, and I dare say you have had enough of such things. I have not missed a day at hospital, I think, for more than three weeks--I get more and more wound round. Poor young men--there are some cases that would literally sink and give up if I did not pa.s.s a portion of the time with them. I have quite made up my mind about the lecturing, etc., project--I have no doubt it will succeed well enough the way I shall put it in operation. You know, mother, it is to raise funds to enable me to continue my hospital ministrations, on a more free-handed scale. As to the Sanitary commissions and the like, I am sick of them all, and would not accept any of their berths. You ought to see the way the men, as they lay helpless in bed, turn away their faces from the sight of those agents, chaplains, etc.