_April 10, 1864_.--Unusual agitation all around concentrated here.
Exciting times in Congress. The Copperheads are getting furious, and want to recognize the Southern Confederacy. "This is a pretty time to talk of recognizing such--," said a Pennsylvania officer in hospital to me to-day, "after what has transpired the last three years." After first Fredericksburg I felt discouraged myself, and doubted whether our rulers could carry on the war. But that has pa.s.s"d away. The war _must_ be carried on. I would willingly go in the ranks myself if I thought it would profit more than as at present, and I don"t know sometimes but I shall, as it is. Then there is certainly a strange, deep, fervid feeling form"d or arous"d in the land, hard to describe or name; it is not a majority feeling, but it will make itself felt. M., you don"t know what a nature a fellow gets, not only after being a soldier a while, but after living in the sights and influences of the camps, the wounded, &c.--a nature he never experienced before. The stars and stripes, the tune of Yankee Doodle, and similar things, produce such an effect on a fellow as never before. I have seen them bring tears on some men"s cheeks, and others turn pale with emotion. I have a little flag (it belong"d to one of our cavalry regiments,) presented to me by one of the wounded; it was taken by the secesh in a fight, and rescued by our men in a b.l.o.o.d.y skirmish following. It cost three men"s lives to get back that four-by-three flag--to tear it from the breast of a dead rebel--for _the name_ of getting their little "rag" back again. The man that secured it was very badly wounded, and they let him keep it. I was with him a good deal; he wanted to give me some keepsake, he said,--he didn"t expect to live,--so he gave me that flag. The best of it all is, dear M., there isn"t a regiment, cavalry or infantry, that wouldn"t do the like, on the like occasion.
_April 12_.--I will finish my letter this morning; it is a beautiful day. I was up in Congress very late last night. The House had a very excited night session about expelling the men that proposed recognizing the Southern Confederacy. You ought to hear (as I do) the soldiers talk; they are excited to madness. We shall probably have hot times here, not in the military fields alone. The body of the army is true and firm as the North Star.
_May 6, "64_.--M., the poor soldier with diarrhoea, is still living, but, oh, what a looking object! Death would be a relief to him--he cannot last many hours. Cunningham, the Ohio soldier, with leg amputated at thigh, has pick"d up beyond expectation; now looks indeed like getting well. (He died a few weeks afterwards.) The hospitals are very full. I am very well indeed. Hot here to-day.
_May 23, "64_.--Sometimes I think that should it come when it _must_, to fall in battle, one"s anguish over a son or brother kill"d might be temper"d with much to take the edge off. Lingering and extreme suffering from wounds or sickness seem to me far worse than death in battle. I can honestly say the latter has no terrors for me, as far as I myself am concern"d. Then I should say, too, about death in war, that our feelings and imaginations make a thousand times too much of the whole matter. Of the many I have seen die, or known of, the past year, I have not seen or known one who met death with terror. In most cases I should say it was a welcome relief and release. Yesterday I spent a good part of the afternoon with a young soldier of seventeen, Charles Cutter, of Lawrence city, Ma.s.sachusetts, 1st Ma.s.sachusetts Heavy Artillery, Battery M. He was brought to one of the hospitals mortally wounded in abdomen. Well, I thought to myself, as I sat looking at him, it ought to be a relief to his folks if they could see how little he really suffer"d. He lay very placid, in a half lethargy, with his eyes closed. As it was extremely hot, and I sat a good while silently fanning him, and wiping the sweat, at length he open"d his eyes quite wide and clear, and look"d inquiringly around. I said, "What is it, my boy? Do you want anything?"
He answer"d quietly, with a good-natured smile, "Oh, nothing; I was only looking around to see who was with me." His mind was somewhat wandering, yet he lay in an evident peacefulness that sanity and health might have envied. I had to leave for other engagements. He died, I heard afterward, without any special agitation, in the course of the night.
_Washington, May 26, "63_.--M., I think something of commencing a series of lectures, readings, talks, &c., through the cities of the North, to supply myself with funds for hospital ministrations. I do not like to be so beholden to others; I need a pretty free supply of money, and the work grows upon me, and fascinates me. It is the most magnetic as well as terrible sight: the lots of poor wounded and helpless men depending so much, in one ward or another, upon my soothing or talking to them, or rousing them up a little, or perhaps petting, or feeding them their dinner or supper (here is a patient, for instance, wounded in both arms,) or giving some trifle for a novelty or change--anything, however trivial, to break the monotony of those hospital hours.
It is curious: when I am present at the most appalling scenes, deaths, operations, sickening wounds (perhaps full of maggots,) I keep cool and do not give out or budge, although my sympathies are very much excited; but often, hours afterward, perhaps when I am home, or out walking alone, I feel sick, and actually tremble, when I recall the case again before me.
_Sunday afternoon, opening of 1865_.--Pa.s.s"d this afternoon among a collection of unusually bad cases, wounded and sick secession soldiers, left upon our hands. I spent the previous Sunday afternoon there also.
At that time two were dying. Two others have died during the week.
Several of them are partly deranged. I went around among them elaborately. Poor boys, they all needed to be cheer"d up. As I sat down by any particular one, the eyes of all the rest in the neighboring cots would fix upon me, and remain steadily riveted as long as I sat within their sight. n.o.body seem"d to wish anything special to eat or drink.
The main thing ask"d for was postage stamps, and paper for writing. I distributed all the stamps I had. Tobacco was wanted by some.
One call"d me over to him and ask"d me in a low tone what denomination I belong"d to. He said he was a Catholic--wish"d to find some one of the same faith--wanted some good reading. I gave him something to read, and sat down by him a few minutes. Moved around with a word for each. They were hardly any of them personally attractive cases, and no visitors come here. Of course they were all dest.i.tute of money. I gave small sums to two or three, apparently the most needy. The men are from quite all the Southern States, Georgia, Mississippi, Louisiana, &c.
Wrote several letters. One for a young fellow named Thomas J. Byrd, with a bad wound and diarrhoea. Was from Russell county, Alabama; been out four years. Wrote to his mother; had neither heard from her nor written to her in nine months. Was taken prisoner last Christmas, in Tennessee; sent to Nashville, then to Camp Chase, Ohio, and kept there a long time; all the while not money enough to get paper and postage stamps. Was paroled, but on his way home the wound took gangrene; had diarrhoea also; had evidently been very low. Demeanor cool, and patient. A dark-skinn"d, quaint young fellow, with strong Southern idiom; no education.
Another letter for John W. Morgan, aged 18, from Sh.e.l.lot, Brunswick county, North Carolina; been out nine months; gunshot wound in right leg, above knee; also diarrhoea; wound getting along well; quite a gentle, affectionate boy; wish"d me to put in the letter for his mother to kiss his little brother and sister for him. [I put strong envelopes on these, and two or three other letters, directed them plainly and fully, and dropt them in the Washington post-office the next morning myself.]
The large ward I am in is used for secession soldiers exclusively. One man, about forty years of age, emaciated with diarrhoea, I was attracted to, as he lay with his eyes turn"d up, looking like death. His weakness was so extreme that it took a minute or so, every time, for him to talk with anything like consecutive meaning; yet he was evidently a man of good intelligence and education. As I said anything, he would lie a moment perfectly still, then, with closed eyes, answer in a low, very slow voice, quite correct and sensible, but in a way and tone that wrung my heart. He had a mother, wife, and child living (or probably living) in his home in Mississippi. It was long, long since he had seen them.
Had he caus"d a letter to be sent them since he got here in Washington?
No answer. I repeated the question, very slowly and soothingly. He could not tell whether he had or not--things of late seem"d to him like a dream. After waiting a moment, I said: "Well, I am going to walk down the ward a moment, and when I come back you can tell me. If you have not written, I will sit down and write." A few minutes after I return"d; he said he remember"d now that some one had written for him two or three days before. The presence of this man impress"d me profoundly. The flesh was all sunken on face and arms; the eyes low in their sockets and gla.s.sy, and with purple rings around them. Two or three great tears silently flow"d out from the eyes, and roll"d down his temples (he was doubtless unused to be spoken to as I was speaking to him.)Sickness, imprisonment, exhaustion, &c., had conquer"d the body, yet the mind held mastery still, and call"d even wandering remembrance back.
There are some fifty Southern soldiers here; all sad, sad cases. There is a good deal of scurvy. I distributed some paper, envelopes, and postage stamps, and wrote addresses full and plain on many of the envelopes.
I return"d again Tuesday, August 1, and moved around in the same manner a couple of hours.
_September 22, "65_.--Afternoon and evening at Douglas hospital to see a friend belonging to 2d New York Artillery (Hiram W. Frazee, Serg"t,) down with an obstinate compound fracture of left leg receiv"d in one of the last battles near Petersburg. After sitting a while with him, went through several neighboring wards. In one of them found an old acquaintance transferr"d here lately, a rebel prisoner, in a dying condition. Poor fellow, the look was already on his face. He gazed long at me. I ask"d him if he knew me. After a moment he utter"d something, but inarticulately. I have seen him off and on for the last five months.
He has suffer"d very much; a bad wound in left leg, severely fractured, several operations, cuttings, extractions of bone, splinters, &c. I remember he seem"d to me, as I used to talk with him, a fair specimen of the main strata of the Southerners, those without property or education, but still with the stamp which comes from freedom and equality. I liked him; Jonathan Wallace, of Hurd co., Georgia, age 30 (wife, Susan F.
Wallace, Houston, Hurd co., Georgia.) [If any good soul of that county should see this, I hope he will send her this word.] Had a family; had not heard from them since taken prisoner, now six months. I had written for him, and done trifles for him, before he came here. He made no outward show, was mild in his talk and behavior, but I knew he worried much inwardly. But now all would be over very soon. I half sat upon the little stand near the head of the bed. Wallace was somewhat restless.
I placed my hand lightly on his forehead and face, just sliding it over the surface. In a moment or so he fell into a calm, regular-breathing lethargy or sleep, and remain"d so while I sat there. It was dark, and the lights were lit. I hardly know why (death seem"d hovering near,) but I stay"d nearly an hour. A Sister of Charity, dress"d in black, with a broad white linen bandage around her head and under her chin, and a black c.r.a.pe over all and flowing down from her head in long wide pieces, came to him, and moved around the bed. She bow"d low and solemn to me.
For some time she moved around there noiseless as a ghost, doing little things for the dying man.
_December, "65_.--The only remaining hospital is now "Harewood," out in the woods, northwest of the city. I have been visiting there regularly every Sunday during these two months.
_January 24, "66_.--Went out to Harewood early to-day, and remain"d all day.
_Sunday, February 4, 1866_.--Harewood Hospital again. Walk"d out this afternoon (bright, dry, ground frozen hard) through the woods. Ward 6 is fill"d with blacks, some with wounds, some ill, two or three with limbs frozen. The boys made quite a picture sitting round the stove. Hardly any can read or write. I write for three or four, direct envelopes, give some tobacco, &c.
Joseph Winder, a likely boy, aged twenty-three, belongs to 10th Color"d Infantry (now in Texas;) is from Eastville, Virginia. Was a slave; belong"d to Lafayette Homeston. The master was quite willing he should leave. Join"d the army two years ago; has been in one or two battles.
Was sent to hospital with rheumatism. Has since been employ"d as cook.
His parents at Eastville; he gets letters from them, and has letters written to them by a friend. Many black boys left that part of Virginia and join"d the army; the 10th, in fact, was made up of Virginia blacks from thereabouts. As soon as discharged is going back to Eastville to his parents and home, and intends to stay there.
Thomas King, formerly 2d District Color"d Regiment, discharged soldier, Company E, lay in a dying condition; his disease was consumption. A Catholic priest was administering extreme unction to him. (I have seen this kind of sight several times in the hospitals; it is very impressive.)
_Harewood, April 29, 1866. Sunday afternoon_.--Poor Joseph Swiers, Company H, 155th Pennsylvania, a mere lad (only eighteen years of age;) his folks living in Reedsburgh, Pennsylvania. I have known him for nearly a year, transferr"d from hospital to hospital. He was badly wounded in the thigh at Hatcher"s Run, February 6, "65.
James E. Ragan, Atlanta, Georgia; 2d United States Infantry. Union folks. Brother impress"d, deserted, died; now no folks, left alone in the world, is in a singularly nervous state; came in hospital with intermittent fever.
Walk slowly around the ward, observing, and to see if I can do anything.
Two or three are lying very low with consumption, cannot recover; some with old wounds; one with both feet frozen off, so that on one only the heel remains. The supper is being given out: the liquid call"d tea, a thick slice of bread, and some stew"d apples.
That was about the last I saw of the regular army hospitals.
[ILl.u.s.tRATION Here is a portrait of E.H. from life, by Henry Inman, in New York, about 1827 or "28. The painting was finely copper-plated in 1830, and the present is a fac simile. Looks as I saw him in the following narrative.]
The time was signalized by the _separation_ of the society of Friends, so greatly talked of--and continuing yet--but so little really explain"d. (All I give of this separation is in a Note following.)
Notes (_such as they are) founded on_
ELIAS HICKS
_Prefatory Note_--As myself a little boy hearing so much of E.H., at that time, long ago, in Suffolk and Queens and Kings counties--and more than once personally seeing the old man--and my dear, dear father and mother faithful listeners to him at the meetings--I remember how I dream"d to write perhaps a piece about E.H. and his look and discourses, however long afterward--for my parents" sake--and the dear Friends too! And the following is what has at last but all come out of it--the feeling and intention never forgotten yet!
There is a sort of nature of persons I have compared to little rills of water, fresh, from perennial springs--(and the comparison is indeed an appropriate one)--persons not so very plenty, yet some few certainly of them running over the surface and area of humanity, all times, all lands. It is a specimen of this cla.s.s I would now present. I would sum up in E.H., and make his case stand for the cla.s.s, the sort, in all ages, all lands, spa.r.s.e, not numerous, yet enough to irrigate the soil--enough to prove the inherent moral stock and irrepressible devotional aspirations growing indigenously of themselves, always advancing, and never utterly gone under or lost.
Always E.H. gives the service of pointing to the fountain of all naked theology, all religion, all worship, all the truth to which you are possibly eligible--namely in _yourself_ and your inherent relations.
Others talk of Bibles, saints, churches, exhortations, vicarious atonements--the canons outside of yourself and apart from man--E.H. to the religion inside of man"s very own nature. This he incessantly labors to kindle, nourish, educate, bring forward and strengthen. He is the most _democratic_ of the religionists--the prophets.
I have no doubt that both the curious fate and death of his four sons, and the facts (and dwelling on them) of George Fox"s strange early life, and permanent "conversion," had much to do with the peculiar and sombre ministry and style of E.H. from the first, and confirmed him all through. One must not be dominated by the man"s almost absurd saturation in cut and dried biblical phraseology, and in ways, talk, and standard, regardful mainly of the one need he dwelt on, above all the rest. This main need he drove home to the soul; the canting and sermonizing soon exhale away to any auditor that realizes what E.H. is for and after. The present paper, (a broken memorandum of his formation, his earlier life,) is the cross-notch that rude wanderers make in the woods, to remind them afterward of some matter of first-rate importance and full investigation. (Remember too, that E.H. was _a thorough believer in the Hebrew Scriptures_, in his way.)
The following are really but disjointed fragments recall"d to serve and eke out here the lank printed pages of what I commenc"d unwittingly two months ago. Now, as I am well in for it, comes an old attack, the sixth or seventh recurrence, of my war-paralysis, dulling me from putting the notes in shape, and threatening any further action, head or body. _W.W., Camden, N.J., July, 1888_.
To begin with, my theme is comparatively featureless. The great historian has pa.s.s"d by the life of Elias Hicks quite without glance or touch. Yet a man might commence and overhaul it as furnishing one of the amplest historic and biography"s backgrounds. While the foremost actors and events from 1750 to 1830 both in Europe and America were crowding each other on the world"s stage--While so many kings, queens, soldiers, philosophs, musicians, voyagers, litterateurs, enter one side, cross the boards, and disappear--amid loudest reverberating names--Frederick the Great, Swedenborg, Junius, Voltaire, Rousseau, Linnaeus, Herschel--curiously contemporary with the long life of Goethe--through the occupancy of the British throne by George the Third--amid stupendous visible political and social revolutions, and far more stupendous invisible moral ones--while the many quarto volumes of the Encyclopaedia Francaise are being published at fits and intervals, by Diderot, in Paris--while Haydn and Beethoven and Mozart and Weber are working out their harmonic compositions--while Mrs. Siddons and Talma and Kean are acting--while Mungo Park explores Africa, and Capt. Cook circ.u.mnavigates the globe--through all the fortunes of the American Revolution, the beginning, continuation and end, the battle of Brooklyn, the surrender at Saratoga, the final peace of "83--through the lurid tempest of the French Revolution, the execution of the king and queen, and the Reign of Terror--through the whole of the meteor-career of Napoleon--through all Washington"s, Adams"s, Jefferson"s, Madison"s, and Monroe"s Presidentiads--amid so many flashing lists of names, (indeed there seems hardly, in any department, any end to them, Old World or New,) Franklin, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mirabeau, Fox, Nelson, Paul Jones, Kant, Fichte, and Hegel, Fulton, Walter Scott, Byron, Mesmer, Champollion--Amid pictures that dart upon me even as I speak, and glow and mix and coruscate and fade like aurora boreales--Louis the 16th threaten"d by the mob, the trial of Warren Hastings, the death-bed of Robert Burns, Wellington at Waterloo, Decatur capturing the Macedonian, or the sea-fight between the Chesapeake and the Shannon--During all these whiles,
I say, and though on a far different grade, running parallel and contemporary with all--a curious, quiet yet busy life centred in a little country village on Long Island, and within sound on still nights of the mystic surf-beat of the sea. About this life, this Personality--neither soldier, nor scientist, nor litterateur--I propose to occupy a few minutes in fragmentary talk, to give some few melanges, disconnected impressions, statistics, resultant groups, pictures, thoughts" of him, or radiating from him.
Elias Hicks was born March 19, 1748, in Hempstead township, Queens county, Long Island, New York State, near a village bearing the old Scripture name of Jericho, (a mile or so north and east of the present Hicksville, on the L.I. Railroad.) His father and mother were Friends, of that cla.s.s working with their own hands, and mark"d by neither riches nor actual poverty. Elias as a child and youth had small education from letters, but largely learn"d from Nature"s schooling. He grew up even in his ladhood a thorough gunner and fisherman. The farm of his parents lay on the south or sea-sh.o.r.e side of Long Island, (they had early removed from Jericho,) one of the best regions in the world for wild fowl and for fishing. Elias became a good horseman, too, and knew the animal well, riding races; also a singer fond of "vain songs," as he afterwards calls them; a dancer, too, at the country b.a.l.l.s. When a boy of 13 he had gone to live with an elder brother; and when about 17 he changed again and went as apprentice to the carpenter"s trade. The time of all this was before the Revolutionary War, and the locality 30 to 40 miles from New York city. My great-grandfather, Whitman, was often with Elias at these periods, and at merry-makings and sleigh-rides in winter over "the plains."
How well I remember the region--the flat plains of the middle of Long Island, as then, with their prairie-like vistas and gra.s.sy patches in every direction, and the "kill-calf" and herds of cattle and sheep. Then the South Bay and sh.o.r.es and the salt meadows, and the sedgy smell, and numberless little bayous and hummock-islands in the waters, the habitat of every sort of fish and aquatic fowl of North America. And the bay men--a strong, wild, peculiar race--now extinct, or rather entirely changed. And the beach outside the sandy bars, sometimes many miles at a stretch, with their old history of wrecks and storms--the weird, white-gray beach--not without its tales of pathos--tales, too, of grandest heroes and heroisms. In such scenes and elements and influences--in the midst of Nature and along the sh.o.r.es of the sea--Elias Hicks was fashion"d through boyhood and early manhood, to maturity. But a moral and mental and emotional change was imminent.
Along at this time he says:
My apprenticeship being now expir"d, I gradually withdrew from the company of my former a.s.sociates, became more acquainted with Friends, and was more frequent in my attendance of meetings; and although this was in some degree profitable to me, yet I made but slow progress in my religious improvement. The occupation of part of my time in fishing and fowling had frequently tended to preser me from falling into hurtful a.s.sociations; but through the rising intimations and reproofs of divine grace in my heart, I now began to feel that the manner in which I sometimes amus"d myself with my gun was not without sin; for although I mostly preferr"d going alone, and while waiting in stillness for the coming of the fowl, mind was at times so taken up in divine meditations, that the opportunities were seasons of instruction and comfort to me; yet, on other occasions, when accompanied by some of my acquaintances, and when no fowls appear"d which would be useful to us after being obtain"d, we sometimes, from wantonness or for mere diversion, would destroy the small birds which could be of no service to us. This cruel procedure affects my heart while penning these lines.
In his 23d year Elias was married, by the Friends" ceremony, to Jemima Seaman. His wife was an only child; the parents were well off for common people, and at their request the son-in-law mov"d home with them and carried on the farm--which at their decease became his own, and he liv"d there all his remaining life. Of this matrimonial part of his career, (it continued, and with unusual happiness, for 58 years,) he says, giving the account of his marriage:
On this important occasion, we felt the clear and consoling evidence of divine truth, and it remain"d with us as a seal upon our spirits, strengthening us mutually to bear, with becoming fort.i.tude, the vicissitudes and trials which fell to our lot, and of which we h a large share in pa.s.sing through this probationary state. My wife, although not of a very strong const.i.tution, liv"d to be the mother of eleven children, four sons and seven daughters. Our second daughter, a very lovely, promising child, died when young, with the small-pox, and the youngest was not living at its birth. The rest all arriv"d to years of discretion, and afforded us considerable comfort, as they prov"d to be in a good degree dutiful children. All our sons, however, were of weak const.i.tutions, and were not able to take care of themselves, being so enfeebl"d as not to be able to walk after the ninth or tenth year of their age. The two eldest died in the fifteenth year of their age, the third in his seventeenth year, and the youngest was nearly nineteen when he died. But, although thus helpless, the innocency of their lives, and the resign"d cheerfulness of their dispositions to their allotments, made the labor and toil of taking care of them agreeable and pleasant; and I trust we were preserv"d from murmuring or repining, believing the dispensation to be in wisdom, and according to the will and gracious disposing of an all-wise providence, for purposes best known to himself. And when I have observ"d the great anxiety and affliction which many parents have with undutiful children who are favor"d with health, especially their sons, I could perceive very few whose troubles and exercises, on that account, did not far exceed ours. The weakness and bodily infirmity of our sons tended to keep them much out of the way of the troubles and temptations the world; and we believ"d that in their death they were happy, and admitted into the realms of peace and joy: a reflection, the most comfortable and joyous that parents can have in regard to their tender offspring.
Of a serious and reflective turn, by nature, and from his reading and surroundings, Elias had more than once markedly devotional inward intimations. These feelings increas"d in frequency and strength, until soon the following: