CHAPTER V

HAMPTON HOSPITAL

In March, 1864, Edward began his duties as chaplain of Hampton Hospital, having been appointed to this position before the raid described in the preceding chapter was undertaken. Mrs. Roe joined him at Washington and they went to Hampton together. A tribute is here due the brave young wife, who, leaving a home of luxury, accepted without a word of regret the privations of hospital life and was untiring in her devotion to the sick and wounded. The letters which follow show what that life was during the last two years of the war. The first is an appeal for books for the sick soldiers made through _The Evangelist_, and is preceded by a note of explanation from the editors of that paper.

"We have received the following letter from the esteemed and efficient chaplain of the Hampton Hospital, Virginia, Rev. Mr. Roe, who, as it will be seen, is desirous of securing a well-selected soldiers' library for the use of the hospital. Many of our readers formed an agreeable acquaintance with Mr. Roe, through his correspondence with _The Evangelist_ while chaplain of the Harris Light Cavalry; and we would refer all others for an estimate of the man, as also of the nature and extent of his duties in his new position, to an interesting paper in the August number of _Harper's Magazine_, on the Chesapeake and Hampton Hospitals. We shall take pleasure in aiding this praiseworthy object in every way in our power, and we trust that the money required for the purchase of these books will be speedily contributed.

'U.S. GENERAL HOSPITAL, FORTRESS MONROE, VA.

July 27, 1864.

'READERS OF THE EVANGELIST:--Pardon me if I say a few plain words in preface to a request. I wish to appeal to a quality that I hope is universal--grat.i.tude. That the North is grateful for the self-sacrifice of its soldiers is well proved by its n.o.ble charities in their behalf. But, my Northern friends, you who dwell securely in beautiful and healthful homes, can you not give a little more for those who are giving all for you?

'_The U.S. General Hospital at Hampton, Va.,_ is very large this summer. The average is two thousand five hundred patients, and we often have three thousand. Accommodations are in process of construction for still larger numbers. This is now the nearest permanent hospital to General Grant's army. Almost daily transports from the front leave at our wharf sick and mutilated men by hundreds, and we in turn send those North who are able to bear further transportation. Thus our wards become mainly filled with what are termed the "worst cases"--men with whom the struggle for life will be long and doubtful. I could take you through our wards, and show you long rows of men with thigh amputations, fractured thighs; men who have lost arms, hands, and both their feet; and in short, men with great gaping, ghastly wounds in every part of the body. With such injuries nothing will sustain but cheerful courage; despondency is almost always fatal. The only true basis of such courage is G.o.d's religion, but to this all-important condition much can be added that is most excellent. But could you ask for more than these men have done and suffered? I think they have done their part. Yours is not so hard, but it is important. In your abundant provisions for their suffering bodies, do not forget rations for their minds. There are hundreds in this hospital who must lie upon their beds, weeks, and even months, before they can even hope to hobble out into the world again with crutch and cane. How shall they spend these long, hot, weary days? Give them cheerful, entertaining, instructive books, and the question is about solved. Who can calculate the value of a brave, cheerful book? It stimulates and strengthens the mind, which reacts upon the weakened body, and the man is at once made stronger, wiser, and better. I felt that first of all I ought to have a religious library, and through some effort, and the kindness of friends, have obtained a very fair collection.

But cheerful, light, entertaining books are few and far between, while there is almost an entire dearth of histories, travels, etc. I find that sick soldiers, even the best of them, are like good people North, they do not like religious reading all the time. The works of Irving, John S. C. Abbott, d.i.c.kens, Cooper, Scott, and T. S. Arthur, would be invaluable from both a sanitary and a moral point of view, for they would remove the parent of all evils--idleness. Poetry also is very much asked for. My simple request, therefore, is that out of grat.i.tude to the brave suffering men who throng the wards of Hampton Hospital, you would send them good cheerful books. I have an excellent librarian, and I promise that they shall be carefully looked after and preserved. Among the thousands who have been here and gone away, I have scarcely lost a book.

'Messrs. Harpers, and Appletons, and other prominent city publishers, have generously offered me their books at half price for hospital purposes. All contributions in money sent to me, or to the offices of the New York _Evangelist_, _The Observer_, and the Brooklyn _Daily Union_, will be promptly and judiciously laid out for such books as are needed. All contributions in books sent to the above-named places will be forwarded to the hospital in my care.'"

Some years after the war was over, my brother took a trip to Fortress Monroe and visited the scenes of his former labors. I quote from a letter telling of the result of his appeal for a soldier's library and of the subsequent use that was made of the books.

"We entered the fort, presented our letter to General Barry, in command, who received us with the utmost courtesy. The band discoursed delightful music. We examined the mitrailleuse, of which the world has heard so much of late. One of the most interesting points to me was the Post Library. Here among many others I found all the books that once formed our hospital library. Loyal Northern friends, who were ever caring for the soldier's well-being, enabled me to gather and purchase about three thousand volumes. I know that it will be gratifying to them to learn that their gifts, so far from being lost or destroyed, are all here in excellent order, and still doing the work for which they were designed. When a book becomes badly worn it is sent away and rebound. The private soldiers, of which there are several hundred, as well as the officers, have free access to them. I was told by the soldier in charge that between two and three hundred of these books were taken out and read monthly. Under General Barry's careful supervision they will be in use for years to come. He evidently regards his men as something more than machines."

It was inevitable that my brother should witness many sad partings during those long years of conflict, and the strain upon his sympathies was very great, as may be seen from the letters that follow.

"Among the painful and tragic events that occurred in our hospital at Fortress Monroe, there was one wherein heaven and earth were strangely mingled. The arm of a strong, powerful man had been amputated at the shoulder joint. He was full of vitality and made a long but vain struggle for life. Day after day, and week after week, he lay, scarcely daring to move, lest the artery should break and his life blood ebb away. But ever at his side (it seemed to me that she almost never left him) sat his true, patient wife. Strange and incongruous did her slight and graceful form, her pale, beautiful face appear in that place of wounds and death. The rough soldiers were never rough or profane in her presence, and their kindly sympathy often touched me. For long weeks the scale turned for neither life nor death, but at last the sharp agony of hope and fear ended in the dull pain of despair. He must die. The artery broke and bled again and again, and skill would soon be of no avail. Some time previous to this, a message had come to the poor wife that her mother was dying, and she was requested to return home immediately.

"'No,' she said, 'my mother is among friends; my husband is alone; I must stay with him.'

"Late one night, when the certainty of death was apparent, they sent for me, and we three had a long, calm talk in the dim, crowded ward. The brave, true soldier did not regret that he had entered his country's service, though it cost him so dearly, but he spoke a few words in regard to those who caused the war that must ever hang upon them like millstones. Turning to his young wife with an affection beautiful to look upon, he said:--

"'Mary, you have prepared me to die, now you must go home and do the same for your poor mother.'

"These brief words revealed a world of meaning. She had not been sitting at his side in helpless pain, looking with fearful eyes into the dreary future when she should be alone and dependent with her child in a cold, selfish world. Forgetting her own heart-break, she had been untiring in her efforts to brighten his pathway down into the dark valley with the hope of heaven. G.o.d had blessed her angel work, for he seemed a Christian. I went away from that bedside more awed than if I had come from the presence of a king.

"Early one morning I was hastily summoned to the ward. It was crowded and confused. The last hours had now come. The artery had broken away beyond remedy, and from the ghastly wound the poor man's life-blood poured away in torrents, crimsoning the floor far and near. His face was pale and wild, for death had come at last in an awful form. In mistaken kindness they had kept his wife from him, fearing the effect of the scene upon her. Drawn by her frantic cries to the ward-master's room, I went and said to her--'My poor friend, you can go to your husband, but for his sake you must be perfectly calm. We can do nothing for him if he is excited.' For his sake, ah! yes, for his sake she could do anything, even master the whirlwind of sorrow at her heart. In a moment she became as quiet and gentle as a lamb, and crept noiselessly to his side. The man rallied and lived a short time, and husband and wife were left alone. We may well draw the veil over that last solemn farewell.

"For a brief s.p.a.ce the pair sat on the sh.o.r.es of time, the extreme cape and promontory of life. All around rolled the ocean of eternity. Then one went forward into the unknown, and the curtain between the two worlds fell. In wild agony she clasped his lifeless form. The ward-master sought tenderly to lift her and lead her away. For a moment the tempest in her soul found expression and she sprang upon him like a tigress. Then came again the strange, unnatural calm like that when the Master said, 'Peace, be still!'

Quietly, thoughtfully she made all her arrangements and soon went northward to her dying mother, taking the precious dust of him she had loved with her, and we saw her no more. But her sad, pale, patient face will haunt me through life.

"If all the bits of romance in these hospitals were gathered up they would make volumes. I will instance only two cases.

"It is somewhat common to get shot now, and yet for all that it is none the less rather a painful and tragical experience. Well, two of our soldiers were shot; one had his arm taken off, and the other lost an arm and a leg also. They both wrote to their respective fair ones, expressing the fear that they would no longer wish to unite themselves with such mutilated specimens of humanity, and if such were their feelings they were free. The female engaged to the man who had lost an arm availed herself of his release. She could not think of marrying him under such circ.u.mstances. The blow was fatal to the poor fellow. He became hopelessly deranged, and is now in the asylum in this city. Still, considering her character, perhaps he escaped a worse fate.

"The lady engaged to the soldier who had lost both his arm and leg replied that she honored him for his wounds; that she loved him all the more for his patriotism and the heroism which led him to incur them; and that if he would permit her she would come on, and take care of him. She did so, and married him."

One turns with a feeling of relief, after the harrowing details in the letters already given, to this account of the Christmas festivities at Hampton Hospital.

"We are told that 'the desert shall blossom as the rose.' We believe it, for even the hospital,--the house of disease and wounds, the spot ever shadowed by the wings of the dark angel,--even this place of sombre a.s.sociations can wreathe itself in festive garlands and resound with songs. Doctor McClellan, surgeon in charge, has the enlightened opinion that pills and physics are not the only health-restoring influences that can be brought to bear upon his patients. All efforts to celebrate the holidays with spirit have received his hearty sympathy and cooperation. The joyous season, so full of happy memories, has not pa.s.sed in dull monotony. Though winds blew high and cold, still, throughout Thursday, Friday, and Sat.u.r.day, the axes rang merrily in the woods. Huge ma.s.ses of holly, cedar, and pine might be seen moving towards the different wards, and approaching near you would find a nurse or convalescent staggering along beneath the green and fragrant burden. Under the magic of many skilful hands the pliant boughs are soon tied and twisted into a thousand devices. Men with only one hand worked with the rest. Men possessing but a single leg were busy as the others. Thump, thump, over the floor go the crutches, as old battered veterans hobbled about in all directions, to view in different lights the artistic and fantastic results of their labors. Even the dull face of chronic pain lights up and wanly smiles, while dim eyes, fast closing on earthly scenes, gaze wistfully on the fragrant evergreens and query to themselves if they are to be the symbols of their memories at distant homes.

"But though many wards blossomed out into holiday garlands, the crowning glories of the kind were to be found in Ward C. Quaint devices, hanging festoons, wreaths and shields and graceful arches, draped the place in varied beauties like the tapestry of old, which turned rough and gloomy apartments into warm and silken bowers. The feathery cedar, ta.s.selled pine, and far-famed laurel formed the rich background for the bright berries of the Christmas holly which glistened like rubies set in emerald folds. Flags were looped across the stage, and the curtains in the rear also showed the stars and stripes. The hospital choir and glee-club had here prepared an entertainment most agreeable to the tastes of all.

Their motto, a beautiful transparency, explains its character, 'We come with songs to greet you.' As darkness fell a throng surrounded every door. Up the high steps to the main entrance, an hour before the doors were opened, crowding, jostling hundreds gathered, seeming like a human wave lifted by some powerful impulse from the sea of heads below. Around the building in circling eddies, knots of men sauntered talking, wondering, and antic.i.p.ating concerning the pleasures of the evening. Above the swaying ma.s.ses numerous crutches might be seen. Thus raised aloft they seemed like standards, showing well the spirit of our soldiers. It is not in wounds to keep them at home. If they have the sad misfortune not to have two legs beneath them, they are sure to go on one if anything unusual calls them out. Within, now, the lamps are lighted, down the long and echoing ward, and through the festoons and glistening arches, they wink and twinkle like fireflies in a cedar forest. The doors are opened and, under Doctor McClellan's wise and careful supervision, at least a thousand persons are soon admitted and seated. Those not so fortunate as to get seats fill every s.p.a.ce of standing room. The hall is full, and those who cannot gain admittance crowd around outside the windows, where faces gleam in the fitful light, like framed and grotesque pictures.

"At a given signal the orchestra commenced, and the hum and buzz of many voices died away like a breeze in the forest. But it is useless to attempt to describe music--songs and anthems that seem like living spirits which by powerful spells may be called up to float and pa.s.s before you, and stir the soul with magic influences.

It was no rude affair. Ears that have been educated at the Academy of Music would have tingled with novel and delightful sensations, could they have heard those deep, rich soldiers' voices accompanied by our lady nurses, and the lady teachers of the Tyler House, chanting our national anthems, or exciting irresistible mirth by their comic songs. Mr. Tilden's ripe, powerful, mellow voice moved every heart, and more than satisfied the nicest and most critical ear. Mr. George Terry, changeful as an April day, now convulsed the audience with laughter, and again, a moment afterwards, caused all eyes to overflow. Mrs. Meachann, Miss Eastman, Mr. Sears, and Mr.

Allen sustained their parts with marked ability, and little Miss Mary White brought down the house by singing a ballad whose simple beauty was universally appreciated. But where all perfectly performed the parts a.s.signed to them, it is almost invidious to make distinctions. Mr. Metcalf, the leader of the choir, must have been satisfied with the performances, as certainly all others were.

'Home, Sweet Home,' closed the entertainment, and carried us all back to that dear and never-to-be-forgotten place. Again in fancy we gathered around the familiar hearthstone, made warm and bright by blazing fire and sweet memories of other days. G.o.d grant that another Christmas day may find us all there.

"But in the hospital there were hundreds confined by sickness, wounds, and weakness to their beds. However good their will may have been they were physically unable to join with their more fortunate companions in outside enjoyments. They were not forgotten or neglected. On Sabbath afternoon the choir again a.s.sembled, and commencing with Ward One, we pa.s.sed through fourteen wards, making the old walls ring again with Christmas anthems. This, with wishing the patients a merry Christmas, and that another return of the happy day might find them all safe at home, and the reading, in Luke ii., of the angelic announcement to the shepherds of the 'unspeakable gift' to us all, const.i.tuted the simple service. On Monday there was much high feeding. Sleek cattle and corpulent pigs were roasted whole, and there was a powerful mortality in the hospital poultry-yard. Men who could never carve their fortunes showed wonderful ability in carving turkey. These substantial luxuries, seasoned by the recent victories, made for us a royal feast, to which the sovereigns in blue sat down with unmingled satisfaction."

CHAPTER VI

THE HOSPITAL FARM AND CHAPEL

In a letter to the Hon. William Cullen Bryant, then editor of the _Evening Post_, Edward gives an account of the establishment of his hospital farm, and tells of its benefit to the men under his care.

"HON. WILLIAM C. BRYANT--DEAR SIR: The meeting in behalf of 'New York's disabled soldiers' has deeply interested me and awakened many war memories. During the last two years of the Rebellion I had some experience, in a small way, which may suggest useful features in a Soldiers' Home. At that time I was one of the chaplains of the Fortress Monroe hospitals, and the campaigns in the vicinity of Petersburg and Richmond often filled our long barracks to repletion and also covered the adjacent acres with temporary tent wards.

Lying around the hospital there was an abundance of idle and unfenced land. With the sanction of Doctor McClellan, the surgeon in charge, I had this enclosed and planted with such vegetables as were most useful and conducive to health, the odorous onion taking the lead. The tulip mania had its day, but the weakness of average humanity for this bulb is as old as history--see Numbers xi., 5--and apparently it is only growing more prevalent with the ages.

If this is evolution in the wrong direction Mr. Huxley should look after it.

"The labor of the hospital farm was performed by the patients themselves, and very many soon became deeply interested in their tasks. When a man became so far convalescent from illness or wounds as to be able to do a little work, he was detailed for the garden and employed in its lighter labors. As he grew stronger he was put at heavier work. Heroes who had lost arms and legs supplemented each other's deficiencies, the two maimed men contriving to do between them far more than many a stout fellow who now demands $1.50 a day. A man with one hand could sow seed and weed the growing vegetables, while his comrade hitched along on his crutch and vigorously hoed the ground between the rows. I sometimes had as many as a hundred men at work, and I ever found that such tasks benefited body and soul. It did one's heart good to see pallid faces grow brown and ruddy, and flabby muscles round and hard. It did one more good thus easily to banish home-sickness and the miserable incubus of _ennui_ from which the sufferer is p.r.o.ne to seek relief in some form of vicious excitement. For the satisfaction of those who ask for more practical results I can state that we were able to send green vegetables to the hospital kitchens by the wagonload. As the record of the second year at the farm, made at the time, I find among other items the following: 700 bushels of snap beans in the pod, 120 do. lima beans, 130 do.

carrots, 125 do. peas, 470 do. potatoes, 250 do. tomatoes, 1,500 bunches of green onions, 30,000 heads of cabbage, 26,900 ears of sweet corn, 2,500 muskmelons, etc. A large poultry yard, enclosing four acres, was also built, and many other improvements made, all being accomplished by the willing labor of the convalescents themselves, who more rapidly regained their strength while thus furnishing the means of health to those still confined within the walls.

"Recalling these facts I am greatly pleased to learn that the 'New York Home' is to be located on a farm, for thus it may be made a _home_ in reality. Providence put the first man into a garden, and few men have lived since who have not felt more at home when a garden lay about the door."

During the years that Edward was at Hampton Hospital, his friend Mr. Merwin was doing a n.o.ble work among the soldiers in the hospitals at the front, under the direction of the Christian Commission. My brother at one time wished to be relieved of his duties as chaplain for several weeks, and Mr. Merwin kindly consented to take his place. He afterwards wrote of this time:--

"I found that Edward's presence among the sick and wounded was sadly missed, and that he had labored in many ways to contribute to their comfort and happiness. He brought from the North an experienced farmer and supplied the hospital with an abundance of excellent vegetables. Subsequently a church was erected by his efforts for the growing needs of that post."

While absent at the North my brother raised most of the funds necessary to build this chapel at Hampton. When he revisited the place years afterward, he found the chapel still in use. He was gratified also to learn that the hospital library continued to be of service. He says:

"Some of us rode out to the former site of the hospital. Many pleasant changes have occurred. The acres of ground occupied by sick and wounded men are now covered with orchards and the homes of peaceful industry. The hospital garden has in part become the grounds of a college for freed-men, and is in a high state of cultivation. The college itself is a fine building, and under the able, energetic administration of General Armstrong, is full of promise for the race that we have so long kept in ignorance. He is teaching them many things of vital use, and among these one of the most important is a wise, economical culture of the ground. The chapel to which we have referred is inclosed within the cemetery grounds, and only needs a few repairs now and then, to preserve it a substantial church for many years to come. I was told that there had been religious services in it nearly every Sabbath since the war.

"The soldiers' monument, now seen for the first time, impressed me most favorably. In its severe simplicity it truthfully commemorates the lives and characters of those who sleep beneath. Over three hundred dollars was given to me by the soldiers in twenty-five and fifty cent stamps and one-dollar bills, and with some these gifts were almost like the widow's mite--all they had. It was most gratifying to see how n.o.bly their wish and purpose had been carried out. That it has been so is due to that friend of the soldier and of all humanity, Miss D. L. Dix, who to the mites of the hospital patients added thousands of dollars collected elsewhere."

From another letter I take Edward's description of the chapel.

"The building is cruciform in its shape, and at the foot rises a light and graceful tower and spire, sixty feet high, surmounted by a cross showing each way. The style of architecture is Gothic. The chapel-room is thirty feet by sixty, with a high, arched ceiling.

It is beautifully and smoothly plastered, and whitened with some kind of hard finish. Two aisles run down the room, thus making three tiers of seats. These are somewhat Gothic in their form, and are stained black-walnut, surmounted by a white round moulding, which makes a pleasing contrast. In the place where the head of the cross should have been, there is merely a small projection from the main building, forming in the large chapel-room an alcove or recess. A beautiful Gothic frame containing two medium-sized and one large window of stained gla.s.s forms the rear of this projection, and aids in lighting the room. All the windows in the chapel part are of stained gla.s.s, and they render the light very soft and pleasant. I found them about as cheap as curtains, and much more pretty and durable. The s.p.a.ce in the alcove is occupied by a slightly raised platform and a plain, simple pulpit, still lacking a cushion. It is a very easy room to speak in, and in it music sounds remarkably well. The left arm of the cross, towards the hospital, const.i.tutes the library, and is a large, airy room, thirty feet by twenty-four, furnished with tables, book-shelves, and reading-desks. Our collection of books is said to be one of the finest in the hospital service. Here also will be found the magazines, dailies, and weeklies, and prominent among our files will be _The Evangelist_. The right arm of the cross consists of four small but pleasant rooms, and will now be used as the chaplain's quarters, and at some future time as a parsonage.

"The building is of a dark color, with white doors and window-frames. Around the entire structure has been built a rustic Gothic fence, constructed of smooth pine poles, and forming a heart-shaped enclosure. Therefore we have the following device: the church in the centre of the heart."

Soon after Edward's return from the North to his work at the hospital there was a marked revival of religion among the sick and wounded men.

He says:--