Walt Whitman - The Complete Prose Works of Walt Whitman, Volume I, Specimen Days, 1902

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MARY LAKE MEMORIAL

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THIS EDITION

IS

ISSUED

UNDER ARRANGEMENT WITH

MESSRS. SMALL, MAYNARD,

&

CO.,

OF BOSTON

THE PUBLISHERS OF THE AUTHORIZED EDITIONS OF THE WRITINGS OF WALT WHITMAN

Digitized by the Internet Archive in

2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft

Corporation

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PAUMANOK

EDITION

This Edition of the Complete Works of Walt

Whitman

printed on Ruisdael hand^^made

is

paper, and limited

which

to

Three Hundred

this is

Number..

^5 b

Sets,

of

THE COMPLETE PROSE WORKS OF

WALT WHITMAN

VOLUME

G. P.

I

PUTNAM'S SONS

NEW YORK AND LONDON XTbe Iknicfterbocfter 1902

press

-% Copyright 1881, 1888, 1891, BY

WALT WHITMAN

Copyright, 1902

By

THOMAS

B.

HARNED

and

HORACE

SURVIVING LITERARY EXECUTORS OF

L.

Entered at Stationers' Hall

•

••.•.*

Ube

'Rntclterbocfter f>red8»

TRAUBEL

WALT WHITMAN

1^cw fiovk

Contents SPECIMEN DAYS, A Happy Hour's Command Answer

....

to an Insisting Friend

Genealogy

5

—Van Velsor and Whitman

6

The Old Whitman and Van Velsor Cemeteries The Maternal Homestead

Two

Old Family

Paumanok, and

Interiors

my

Life

on

.... .... it

as Child

First

Reading

Printing Office

Growth— Health— Work My Passion for Ferries

17

.... .... .

18

19

20

Broadway Sights Omnibus Jaunts and Drivers

21

Plays and Operas too

24

23

Through Eight Years Sources of Character

27

— Results —

Opening of the Secession War

1

860

28 28

.

National Uprising and Volunteering

29

Contemptuous Feeling

30

Battle of Bull

Run,

The Stupor Passes

Down

....

July, 1861

— Something Else

at the Front

After First Fredericksburg

31

Begins

3(>

....

38 39

40

Back to Washington VOL.

II

13

— Lafayette

— Old Brooklyn

7

9

and Young

Man

My

3

IV.

[iii]

73533

.

..

Contente

SPECIMEN DAYS— Continued, Fifty

Hours

Left

Wounded on

the Field

Hospital Scenes and Persons Patent-Office Hospital

The White House by Moonlight

An Army

Hospital

Ward

A Connecticut Case Two Brooklyn Boys A Secesh Brave

.

... .

The Wounded from

A

Chancellorsville

Night Battle over a

Week

Unnamed Remains the Some Specimen Cases

My

Since

Bravest Soldier

Preparations for Visits

Ambulance Processions Bad Wounds

The Most Battle of

— the Young

Inspiriting of All

War's Shows

Gettysburg

A Cavalry Camp A New York Soldier Home-made Music Abraham Lincoln Heated Term Soldiers

and Talks

Death of a Wisconsin Officer Hospital's

A

Silent

Ensemble

among

Spiritual Characters

Cattle

.

Night Ramble

Hospital Perplexity

Down

the Soldiers

Droves about Washington

at the

Front

Paying the Bounties

Rumors, Changes,

.

Etc. [iv]

Contents

SPECIMEN DAYS— Continued, Virginia

PAGB

....

Summer of 1864 A New Army Organization Death of a Hero Hospital Scenes

A Yankee

Fit for

86

America

87 88

.

.

— Incidents

89'

Soldier

91

Union Prisoners South Deserters

A

.

93 .

— Money — Discrimination

.

My

Items from

Note Books

94

96 98

.

Case from Second Bull Run

Army Surgeons

98

— Aid Deficiencies

The Blue Everywhere

A

91 .

Glimpse of War's Hell-Scenes

Gifts

A

.

.

99 100

.

Model Hospital

Boys

in the

Burial of a

lOI

Army

102

Lady Nurse

Female Nurses

103

for Soldiers

104

.

Southern Escapees

105

The

Capitol by Gas-Light The Inauguration

108

.

109

Attitude of Foreign Governments during the

The Weather

— Does

it

War

no

Sympathize with These

Times?

112

Inauguration Ball

114

Scene

A

^4 .116

at the Capitol

Yankee Antique

Wounds and

117

Diseases

118

Death of President Lincoln Sherman's

No Good

Army Jubilation—its

Portrait of Lincoln

Sudden Stoppage

....

Releas'd Union Prisoners from South

W

.

119 120

120

Contente

SPECIMEN DAYS— Continued. Death of a Pennsylvania Soldier

.

The Armies Returning The Grand Review Western

.... ... .... .... ....

Soldiers

.

A Soldier on Lincoln Two Brothers, one South, Some Sad

Cases Yet

Calhoun's Real

one North

Monument

Hospitals Closing

.

.

Typical Soldiers *'

Convulsiveness "

Three Years

The

.

.

Summ'd up Summ'd up .

.

.

.

Million Dead, too,

The Real War

An

.

will

Never Get

in the

Books

Interregnum Paragraph

New Themes Entering a

To An

Enter'd upon Long Farm-Lane

the Spring and Brook

Early

Summer

Reveille

Birds Migrating at Midnight

Bumble-Bees Cedar- Apples

Summer Sights and Sundown Perfume

Indolencies

.

— Quail-Notes — the

Thrush

A July

Afternoon by the Pond

Locusts and Katydids

The Lesson of a Tree

.... .... .... — .... ....

Autumn

Side Bits

The Sky

— Days and Nights

Colors

— A Contrast

November

8, '76

[vi]

Happiness

Hermit

.

.

Contenta

SPECIMEN DAYS— Continued. Crows and Crows A Winter Day on

PAOK -»

the Sea-Beach

165

Sea-Shore Fancies In

Memory

A

Two-Hours'

of

One

An

167

Thomas

— Recreations

Human

of the

Paine

168

Ice-Sail

Spring Overtures

Kinks

Afternoon Scene

The Gates Opening The Common Earth,

172 173

.

174

.

.

174

.

175

the Soil

Birds and Birds and Birds

176

.

177

Full-Starr'd Nights

Mulleins and Mulleins Distant Sounds

A

The Oaks and

A

Quintette

The

178

.... .... — .... .... .

— Nakedness

Sun-Bath

First Frost

I

.

A Meadow Sundown

Mems

Thoughts Under an Oak

— A Dream

Hay Perfume

An Unknown Bird-Whistling

Horse-Mint

Three of Us

.... .... .... .... .

Death of William Cullen Bryant Jaunt up the Hudson

.

Happiness and Raspberries

A

180

.

181

.

182 185

.

Specimen Tramp Family [vii]

.

.

187

.

188

.

188

.

Lark

Lights

Clover and

.

.

Three Young Men's Deaths February Days

i6s

193

196 .

196

.

197

.

198

.

199

.

199

200 .

201

202

.

.

204

.

204

.

205

Contenta

SPECIMEN DAYS— Continued. Manhattan from the Bay

Human and Hours

Heroic

New

207

York

209

for the Soul

211

Straw-Color'd and other Psyches

A

217

Night Remembrance

219

Wild Flowers

A

Civility too

219 long Neglected

Delaware River

221

— Days and Nights — Last Winter's Nightj

Scenes on Ferry and River

The

Up

First

the

Days

Spring Day on Chestnut Street

Hudson

at J. B.'s

to Ulster

222 224

230

County

— Turf-Fires — Spring Songs

234

Meeting a Hermit

2^6

An

236

Ulster

County Waterfall

Walter Dumont and

his

Hudson River Sights

Two

237 238

.

City Areas, Certain Hours

Central Park

A

Medal

240

.

Walks and Talks

242

Fine Afternoon, 4 to 6

243

Departing of the Big Steamers

Two

245

Hours on the Minnesota

Mature

Summer Days and

Exposition

Building

246

Nights

— New

248

City Hall

— River

Trip

249

Swallows on the River Begin a Long Jaunt West

251 2<y2

.

In the Sleeper

2^2

Missouri State

253

Lawrence and Topeka, Kansas The Prairies (and an Undeliver'd Speech) .

— On to Denver — A Frontier Incident An Hour on Kenosha Summit [viii]

.

254

257

258

.

Contents

SPECIMEN DAYS— Continued, An

" Find

Egotistical

New

.

Steam-Power, Telegraphs, America's Back-Bone ^

.

.

etc.

.

.

....

Denver Impressions

.

— and then East again Wants — the Arkansas River Follower — the Coreopsis

Turn South

Unfulfill'd

A

.

.

Art Features

I

.

New Joys

Senses:

The Parks

PAGE

"

.

Silent Little

The

Prairies

and Great

The Spanish Peaks

Plains

America's Characteristic Landscape Earth's

Most Important Stream

Prairie

Analogies — The Tree Question

259

.

259

.

260

.

261,

.

262

,

263

.

264

.

267

.

268

.

Plains in Poetry

— Evening on the

.

269

.

270

.

271

.

272

•

273

.

274

Mississippi Valley Literature

•

275

An

.

277

Interviewer's Item

The

Women

The

Silent General

of the

West

.

President Hayes's Speeches St.

Louis

Memoranda

Upon our

Own

.

.

Land

.

.

Edgar Poe's Significance Beethoven's Septette

A

in

the

Woods

Contralto Voice

Seeing Niagara to Advantage Jaunting to Canada

Sunday with the Insane Reminiscence of

.

278

.

279

.

Elias

Hicks

[ix]

40 2^;

.

212

.

213

.

214

.

217

.

218

.

Hint of Wild Nature

Loafing

.

.

Nights on the Mississippi

A

.

.

219

.

290

.

291

.

292

.

293

.

295

Contend SPECIMEN DAYS— Continued. Grand Native Growth

A

Zollverein

.....

between the U.

The St. Lawrence Line The Savage Saguenay Capes Eternity and Trinity Chicoutimi, and

The

Inhabitants

Cedar-Plums

and Canada

.

— Good Living — Names.

Death of Thomas Carlyle Carlyle

.... .... S.

Ha-Ha Bay

like

.

.

.

.

....

from American Points of View

w

PAOB .

296

.

296

•

297

298 299 .

300 301 301

305

310

IFlIustrations

Walt Whitman From

....

the oil painting by Kelly.

Crane, Esq.,

New

Owned

Frontispiece by

William Cullen Bryant From a

steel

202

T.

284

Johnson from a daguerreotype.

Thomas Carlyle From

C.

engraving.

Edgar Allan Poe Etched by

W.

York.

)o6

life.

[xi]

Specimen

VOL. IV.

—X.

[I]

H>aig8

Specimen Bai^s Down

B^r Command

in the IVoods, July 2d,

1882,— \i

"^^^* ^^'^y "^ longer. In* ^^ '* ^* ^" congruous and full of skips and jumps as '

is

that huddle of diary-jottings,

war-mem-

oranda of 1862-65, Nature-notes of 1877-81, with Western and Canadian observations afterwards, all

bundled up and tied by a big string, the resolution and indeed mandate comes to me this day, this hour,— (and what a day! what an hour just passing! the luxury of riant grass and blowing breeze, with the shows of sun and sky and perfect tempera-

all

never before so

ture,

filling

me, body and soul),—

go home, untie the bundle, reel out diary-scraps and memoranda, just as they are, large or small, one after another, into print-pages,* and let the

to

* The pages from

i

to 28 are nearly verbatim an off-hand letter of mine in

January, 1882, to an insisting friend.

Following,

I

give

some gloomy

experiences.

The war

of attempted secession has, of course, been the distinguishing event of

time.

commenced

I

and continued

at the close of 1862,

steadily

through

my

^6^, '64

the sick and wounded of the army, both on the field and in the and around Washington city. From the first kept little note-books for impromptu jottings in pencil to refresh my memory of names and circumstances, and what was specially wanted, &c. In these, brief 'd cases, persons, sights, occurrences in camp, by the bed-side, and not seldom by the corpses of the dead. Some were scratch'd down from narratives heard and itemized while watching, or

and

'65, to visit

hospitals in

I

I

I

[3]

—

••'.*•:>..:.•....•

Specimen Dai^a

melange's lackings and wants of connection take care of themselves.

It

will illustrate

one phase of

humanity anyhow; how few of life's days and hours (and they not by relative value or proportion, but by chance) are ever noted. Probably another point,

how we

too,

give long preparations for

some

object,

and delving and fashioning, and then, when the actual hour for doing arrives, find ourplanning

selves

still

quite unprepared, and tumble the thing

together, letting hurry better than fine work. waiting, or tending

books

left,

and crudeness tell the story At any rate obey my happy I

somebody amid those

scenes.

I

forming a special history of those years,

tions never to

be possibly said or sung.

associations that attach to these soil'd

I

and

two of paper, folded small to carry them just as threw them by after

sheet or

wish

have dozens of such

for I

myself alone,

full

little

note-

of associa-

could convey to the reader the

creas'd livraisons, each

in the pocket,

and

composed of

a

fasten'd with a pin.

I leave I the war, blotch'd here and there with more than one blood-stain, hurriedly written, sometimes at the clinique, not seldom amid the excitement of uncertainty, or defeat, or of action, or getting ready for it, or a march. Most of the pages from 38 to 143 are verbatim copies of those lurid and

blood-smuch'd

ended

I

little

note-books.

most of the memoranda that follow. Some time after the war had a paralytic stroke, which prostrated me for several years. In 1876 I be-

Very

different are

gan to get over the worst of it. From this date, portions of several seasons, especially summers, 1 spent at a secluded haunt down in Camden County, New Jersey Timber creek, quite a little river (it enters from the great Delaware, twelve miles away) with primitive solitudes, winding stream, recluse and woody banks, sweetfeeding springs, and all the charms that birds, grass, wild-flowers, rabbits and squirThrough these times, and on these rels, old oaks, walnut trees, &c., can bring. spots, the diary from page 144 onward was mostly written. The Collect afterwards gathers up the odds and ends of whatever pieces I can now lay hands on, written at various times past, and swoops all together like fish in

—

a net. I suppose I publish and leave the whole gathering, first, from that eternal tendency to perpetuate and preserve which is behind all Nature, authors included; second, to symbolize two or three specimen interiors, personal and other, out of the myriads of my time, the middle range of the nineteenth century in the New World; a strange, unloosen'd, wondrous time. But the book is probably without any defi-

nite purpose that

can be told

in a statement.

M

Specimen Dapa hour's

May

command, which seems

be,

if

curiously imperative.

don't do anything else,

I shall send out the most wayward, spontaneous, fragmentary book ever printed. I

/

You ask Answer to an Insisting

for items, details of

r

my

early

—of genealogy and parentage, particularly of the women of my ancestry, and of its

Friend

far-back Netherlands stock on the ternal side raised,

and

and

—

New

of the region where

my

before

theirs

life

i

i

mother and

them

York

— with

cities,

and young man.

a

1

ma-

was born and

father before me,

and

word about Brooklyn

the times

I

lived there as lad

You say you want

to get at these

mainly as the go-befores and embryons of Leaves of Grass, Very good; you shall have at details

least

some specimens of them

all.

have often

I

thought of the meaning of such things

— that

one

can only encompass and complete matters of that kind by exploring behind, perhaps very

far

behind,

themselves directly, and so into their genesis, an-

and cumulative stages. Then as luck would have it, lately whiled away the tedium of a week's half-sickness and confinement, by collating tecedents,

I

these very items for another (yet unfulfilled, probably

abandon'd,) purpose; and

with them, authentic simply, and told

they

are.

I

in

if

you

will

be

satisfied

date-occurrence and fact

my own

way,

shall not hesitate to [5]

garrulous-like, here

make

extracts, for

I

Specimen

lS>a^e

catch at anything to save labor; but those will be

the best versions of

The Genealogy

v^is^

Whitman

I

''^'"§

^"

Long

Island,

^^^^^

^^^

my

mother's side,

^^^^ ^^ ^^^^ Spring,

York

near the

State,

Queens County, about a

My

father's side

generation from the

fifth

the last century found

New

mile from the harbor.*

to convey.

family,

eastern edge of

the

want

later years of

Van Velsor

the

d

what

first

— probably

English arrivals in

— were at the same time farmers on their own land — (and a fine domain was, 500 acres, New

England

it

all

good

soil,

gently sloping east and south, about

two or County. The

one-tenth woods, plenty of grand old trees,) three miles

off,

at

West

Hills,

Suffolk

Whitman name in the Eastern States, and so branching West and South, starts undoubtedly from one John Whitman, born 1602, in Old England, where he grew up, married, and his eldest son was born in 1629.

He came over

America, and lived

in

the True Love in 1640 to

Weymouth,

in

Mass.,

which

became the mother-hive of the New Englanders His brother. Rev. of the name; he died in 1692. Zechariah Whitman, also came over in the True Love, either at that time or soon after, and lived at A son of this Zechariah, named Milford, Conn. place

* Long

Island

was

settled first

then on the east end by the English

a

little

west of Huntington, where

on the west end by the Dutch from Holland,

— the dividing

my

line of the

father's folks lived,

[6]

two nationalities being was born.

and where

I

Specimen

2)ai?0

Joseph, migrated to Huntington, Long Island, and

permanently settled there. Dictionary, (vol.

iv, p.

Savage's Genealogical

524) gets the

establish'd at Huntington, 1664.

It is

Whitman

family

per this Joseph, before

quite certain that from that beginning,

and from Joseph, the West Hill Whitmans, and all others in Suffolk County, have since radiated, myself

among

the number.

John and Zechariah both went to England and back again divers times; they had large families, in

and several of their children

We

the old country.

v^ere born

hear of the father of John

and Zechariah, Abijah Whitman, who goes over

we know

the 1500's, but

he also was

for

little

some time

into

about him, except that America.

in

These old pedigree-reminiscences come up to me vividly from a visit

year) to

West

I

made not long

fuly

and Van

63d

I

2(),

1881,

:

— Mter

y^^^^' absence,

take

my

extract from notes of that

written there and then

mitmtn

my

Hills, and to the burial grounds of

ancestry, both sides. visit,

since (in

more than

(except a brief

forty

visit,

to

my father there once more, two years

went down Long Island ^^ ^ week's jaunt to the place where was born, thirty miles from New York City. Rode around

Veisor

before he died,)

Cemeteries

I

the old familiar spots, viewing and pondering and

dwelling long upon them, everything coming back to me. Went to the old Whitman homestead on the [7]

Specimen Wa^e upland and took a view eastward, inclining south, over the broad and beautiful farm lands of

and

father (1780,)

my

the well,

there

old;

kitchen-garden, and a

little

way

kept remains of the dwelling of (i750-'6o)

low

standing, with

still

grand-

There was the

father.

house (18 10,) the big oak a hundred and

hundred years

my

off

fifty

the

or

new two

sloping

even the well-

my great-grandfather

its

mighty timbers and

Near by, a stately grove of tall, vigor-

ceilings.

ous black-walnuts, beautiful, Apollo-like, the sons or grandsons, no doubt, of black- walnuts during or before 1776.

On

the other side of the road spread the

famous apple orchard, over twenty acres, the trees planted by hands long mouldering in the grave (my uncle Jesse's,) but quite

many

of

them evidently

ca-

pable of throwing out their annual blossoms and fruit yet. I

now

write these lines seated on an old grave

(doubtless of a century since at least) on the burial hill

of the

Whitmans

of

many

generations.

Fifty or

more graves are quite plainly traceable, and as many more decay'd out of all form depress'd mounds, crumbled and broken stones, cover'd with moss the gray and sterile hill, the clumps of chestnuts

—

outside, the

wind.

silence,

just

varied

—

by the soughing

always the deepest eloquence of sermon or poem in any of these ancient graveyards There

of which this

Long

is

many; so what must My whole family history,

Island has so

one have been to me? [8]

Specimen 2)a?0 with

its

down on

succession of links, from the

first

settlement

— three centuries concentrate

to date, told here

this sterile acre.

The next and

day, July 30,

I

was

devoted to the maternal

more penetrated and impress'd. write this paragraph on the burial hill of the Van Velsors, near Cold Spring, the most signiflocality,

if

possible

still

I

dead that could be imagin'd, without the slightest help from art, but far ahead of icant depository of the

it,

soil sterile,

a mostly bare plateau-flat of half an

acre, the top of a

hill,

brush and well grown trees

and dense woods bordering all around, very primitive, secluded, no visitors, no road (you cannot drive here,

you have foot).

to bring the dead on foot, and follow on

Two-

or three-score graves quite plain; as

My grandfather Cornelius and my grandmother Amy (Naomi) and numerous relatives nearer or remoter, on my mother's many more

almost rubb'd

side, lie buried here.

delicate

out.

The scene

as

I

stood or

and wild odor of the woods, a

sat,

the

slightly driz-

atmosphere of the place, and reminiscences, were fitting accompani-

zling rain, the emotional

the inferr'd

ments.

I

Maternal

Hom^tead

had been

went down from

this ancient

eighty or ninety rods to the

grave place site

of the

Van Velsor homestead, where my mother was born (1795,) and where every spot familiar to

me

as a child [9]

and youth (1825-

Specimen Da?6 '40).

Then stood

there a long rambling, dark-gray,

shingle-sided house, with sheds, pens, a great barn,

and much open road-space. Now of all those not a vestige left; all had been pull'd down, erased, and the plough and harrow pass'd over foundations, roadspaces and everything, for many summers; fenced and grain and clover growing like any other fine fields. Only a big hole from the cellar, with some little heaps of broken stone, green with grass and weeds, identified the place. Even the in at present,

copious old brook and spring seem'd to have mostly

The whole scene, with what memories of my young days there half

dwindled away.

it

arous'd,

a

century ago, the vast kitchen and ample fireplace and the sitting-room adjoining, the plain furniture, the meals, the house

full

of merry people,

mother Amy's sweet old

face in

grandfather ''the Major,"

its

jovial,

my

Quaker

grand-

cap,

red, stout,

my

with

sonorous voice and characteristic physiognomy, with the actual sights themselves,

made the most

nounc'd half-day's experience of

pro-

my

whole jaunt. For there with all those wooded, hilly, healthy surroundings, my dearest mother, Louisa Van Velsor, (her mother. Amy Williams, of the grew up

—

Friends'

or

Quakers' denomination

family, seven sisters

— the

and one brother— the

whom

Williams father

and

met their deaths at The Van Velsor people were noted for fine horses, which the men bred and train'd from blooded

brother sailors, both of sea).

[10]

Specimen ÂŽai?0 stock.

My

and daring

mother, as a young

woman, was

the old race of the Netherlands, so deeply grafted

self,

on Manhattan island and

Kings and Queens coun-

in

never yielded a more mark'd and

ties,

ized specimen than Major Cornelius

Two

a daily

As to the head of the family him-

rider.

Of

Old

Interiors

**

Van

the domestic and inside

middle of Long Island,

Family

i^i^t

The Whitmans,

vast hearth

A

and just before

at

New York

at that time,

by the family of some twelve or darkies could be seen, a

swarm

In the house,

was

floor, eating their

No

rude, but substantial.

were known, and no

fires

and grains were

and used

Cider

plentiful.

at meals.

field

in

all

was

supper

food and

carpets or stoves

gave both warmth and

Pork, poultry, beef, and

winter nights.

and

and tea or sugar only

coffee,

Rousing wood

house and

of them, toward sundown, in

of Indian pudding and milk. all

The

and the possession

The very young

on the

drink,

hugely timber'd,

fifteen slaves,

this kitchen, squatted in a circle

tables

:

great smoke-canopied kitchen, with

servants, gave things quite a patriarchal look.

women.

of the

life

and chimney, form'd one end of the house.

existence of slavery in

furniture,

Velsor.

beginning of the present century,

at the

standing.

is still

American-

two samples

time, here are

lived in a long story-and-a-half farm-house,

which

full

for the

light

on

the ordinary vegethe men's

common

The clothes were mainly homespun.

men and women on horseback. own hands the men on the farm

Journeys were made by both

Both sexes labor'd with their

— the women

in the

The annual copy

—

house and around

of the almanac

was

through the long winter evenings.

C"]

I

it.

a treat,

Books were

scarce.

and was pored over

must not

forget to mention

— Specimen 2)a?0 that both these families

were near enough

from the high places, and to hear surf

;

Then

the all

latter, after

and the

parties,

still

it

hours the roar of the

a storm, giving a peculiar sound at night.

went down

hands, male and female,

and bathing

in

to the sea to behold

men on

frequently on beach

practical expeditions for

clamming and fishing,"—John Bur-

cutting salt hay, and for

roughs' s Notes.

''The ancestors of Walt Whitman, on both the paternal and maternal sides, kept a good table, sustained the hospitalities, de-

corums, and an excellent social reputation

were

often of mark'd individuality.

consider

some

of the

men worthy

more some of the women.

was

ternal side, for instance,

managed

in later

life,

in the county,

space permitted,

special description

a large swarthy

forth every

becoming

and

still

lived

a

like

widow

day over her farm-lands, frequently language in

which, on exciting occasions, oaths were not spared.

women.

should

woman, who

in the saddle, directing the labor of her slaves, in

immediate

I

His great-grandmother on the pa-

the most vicious horse, and,

went

;

and they

She smoked tobacco, rode on horseback

to a very old age.

a man,

If

grandmothers were,

in

the

best

The maternal one (Amy Williams

The two

sense,

superior

before marriage)

was

a Friend, or Quakeress, of sweet, sensible character, housewifely

and

proclivities,

deeply

intuitive

and

spiritual.

The other

(Hannah Brush,) was an equally noble, perhaps stronger character,

lived to

be very

ural lady,

was

solidity of

mind.

his ancestry."

old,

early

in

my

a school-mistress,

himself makes

much

and had great

of the

women

of

The Same.

locality

stages of

life

W. W.

Out from these was born May 31, on the

had quite a family of sons, was a nat-

arriferes

And now

18 19.

itself

of persons and scenes,

— as

to dwell awhile

the successive growth-

infancy, childhood, [12]

I

youth and manhood

Specimen 2)a?0 were

pass'd on

all

Long

Island,

had incorporated. man, and have lived in nearly as

feel

lyn to

if

I

Montauk

I

which

I

sometimes

roam'd, as boy and parts,

all

from Brook-

Point.

Worth

fully

and

particularly investigating

^"^^^^ ^^^^ Paumanok, (to give the spot and my Life its aboriginal name,*) stretching east on it as Child and through Kings, Queens and Suffolk coun-

YoungMan

^j^^^

Long

^^^ ^jj^^ altogether

— on the north

Island Sound, a beautiful, varied and pictu-

resque series of

''necks" and sea-like expan-

inlets,

hundred miles to Orient Point. On the ocean side the Great South Bay dotted with countless sions, for a

hummocks, mostly sionally long bars

some quite large, occaof sand out two hundred rods to a small,

While now and

mile-and-a-half from the shore.

Rockaway and far east along the Hampthe beach makes right on the island, the sea

then, as at tons,

up without intervention. Several lighthouses on the shores east; a long history of wrecks' dashing

tragedies, I

was *

•*

in

some even

of late years.

As a youngster,

the atmosphere and traditions of

Paumanok,

(or

Paumanake,

over a hundred miles long; shaped

or

many

Paumanack, the Indian name of Long Island,)

like a fish

— plenty of sea shore, sandy, stormy,

uninviting, the horizon boundless, the air too strong for invalids, the bays a derful resort for aquatic birds, the south-side soil

of

meadows

won-

cover'd with salt hay, the

of the island generally tough, but good for the locust-tree, the apple orchard, and

the blackberry, and with numberless springs of the sweetest water in the world.

Years ago,

changed

among

the bay-men

— a native of Long

—a

Island

strong, wild race,

was

called a

now extinct,

Paumanacker,

ox

or rather entirely

Creole-Pauma-

nacker."—John Burroughs. [»3]

7

Specimen Daija

— of

one or two almost an observer. Off Hempstead beach for example, was the loss of the ship Mexico in 1840, (alluded to in ''the Sleepers"

these wrecks

And

Hampton, some years

later,

the destruction of the brig Eli;(abeth, a fearful

affair,

of G.)

in L.

in

at

one of the worst winter gales, where Margaret

Fuller

went down, with her husband and

child.

Inside the outer bars or beach this south

bay

is

everywhere comparatively shallow of cold winters As a boy often went all thick ice on the surface. ;

I

forth with a

chum

or two, on those frozen fields,

with hand-sled, axe and eel-spear, eels.

We

would cut holes

in

striking quite an eel-bonanza,

with great,

fat,

after

messes of

ice,

sometimes

filling

our baskets

the

and

The

sweet, white-meated fellows.

scenes, the ice, drawing the hand-sled, cutting holes,

spearing the eels, &c., were of course just such fun as

is

The shores of

dearest to boyhood.

winter and summer, and

my

woven all through very fond of was to go on

L.

life,

are

gather sea-gull's eggs.

this bay,

doings there

of G.

One

in early

was summer to two or three sport

I

a bay-party in

(The

gulls lay

more than half the size of hen's eggs, right on the sand, and leave the sun's heat to hatch them.) The eastern end of Long Island, the Peconic bay sail'd more than once region, knew quite well too spent around Shelter Island, and down to Montauk many an hour on Turtle hill by the old light-house, eggs,

—

I

—

on the extreme point, looking out over the ceaseless [14]

V

Specimen 2)a^6 roll

and

of the Atlantic.

I

used to

like to

go down there

with the blue-fishers, or the annual squads of sea-bass takers. Sometimes, along Montauk peninsula, (it is some 15 miles long, and good fraternize

grazing,)

met the

herdsmen,

at that

from society or

strange, unkempt, half-barbarous

time living there entirely aloof

civilization, in charge,

on those

rich

pasturages, of vast droves of horses, kine or sheep,

own'd by farmers of the eastern towns. Sometimes, too, the few remaining Indians, or half-breeds, at that period left on Montauk peninsula, but now believe I

altogether extinct.

More in the middle of the island were the spreading Hempstead plains, then (i83o-'4o) quite prairielike,

open, uninhabited, rather

sterile,

cover'd with

and huckleberry bushes, yet plenty of fair pasture for the cattle, mostly milch-cows, who fed there by hundreds, even thousands, and at evening, kill-calf

were own'd by the towns, and this was the use of them in common,) might be seen taking their way home, branching off regularly in the right places. have often been out on the edges of these plains toward sundown, and can yet recall in fancy the interminable cow-processions, and (the plains too

I

hear the music of the tin or copper bells clanking or near, and breathe the cool slightly aromatic

evening

air,

far

of the sweet and

and note the sunset.

Through the same region of the island, but further east, extended wide central tracts of pine and [IS]

Specimen Ba?5

made here,) moBut many a good day or half-

was

scrub-oak, (charcoal

notonous and

day did

I

sterile.

largely

have, wandering through those solitary

cross-roads,

inhaling the peculiar

Here, and

along the island and

intervals

all

many

years,

all

and wild aroma. shores,

its

1

spent

seasons, sometimes riding,

sometimes boating, but generally afoot, ( was always then a good walker,) absorbing fields, shores, marine incidents, characters, the bay-men, farmers, pilots I

—

always had a

plentiful

acquaintance with the

latter,

—

went every summer on sailing and with fishermen always liked the bare sea-beach, south side, trips and have some of my happiest hours on it to this

—

day.

whole experience comes back to me after the lapse of forty and more years— the soothing rustle of the waves, and the saline smell boyhood's times, the clam-digging, bare-foot, and

As

I

write, the

—

with trowsers rolfd

up— hauling

down

the creek

—

— the hay-boat, of excursions; —

the perfume of the sedge-meadows

or, and the chowder and fishing later years, little voyages down and out New York Bay, in the pilot boats. Those same later years, also, while living in Brooklyn, (i836-'5o) went regulariy I

every

week

in

Island, at that

which

I

had

the mild seasons

all

Homer

to

Coney

time a long, bare unfrequented shore, to myself, and

bathing, to race up and

claim

down

down

where

1

loved, after

the hard sand, and de-

or Shakspere to the surf and sea-gulls [i6]

—

Specimen Bap6 by the hour. But am getting ahead too and must keep more in my traces. I

From

My

First

Brooklyn

our family lived

'28

1824 to

^^"

In the latter

Streets.

in

Cranberry and John-

in Front,

Reading Lafayette

rapidly,

my

father built

a nice house for a home, and afterwards

another after lost

We

in Tillary Street.

occupied them, one

the other, but they were mortgaged, and

them.

I

remember went to the

yet

of these years

1

Lafayette's visit.*

public schools.

It

we

Most must

have been about 1829 or '30 that I went with my father and mother to hear Elias Hicks preach in a ball-room on Brooklyn Heights.

time employed as a boy

and two sons,

in

an

At about the same

office, lawyers', father

Clarke's, Fulton Street, near Orange.

had a nice desk and window-nook to myself; Edward C. kindly help'd me at my handwriting and composition, and, (the signal event of my life up to I

that time,) subscribed for library.

ing of

For a time all

kinds;

*" On the visit Brooklyn in

state,

1

first,

now

me

to a big circulating

revel'd in romance-read-

the Arabian Nights,

all

the

of Geoeral La£iyette to this countiy, in 1824, he came overto The duldran of the schools tum*d out

and rode through the dty.

An edifice for a free public libiaiy for yootfas was just then commencing, and Lafayette consented to stop on his way and \Ky the coroer-stooe. Numerous children anivii^ on the ground, where a hu^ irregubr csuavaliuu for the iNiildngwas already dug, surrounded with heaps of roqgh stone, several gcntle rn

to jon in the welcome.

m

assisted in lifting the children to safe or convenient spots to see the

ceremony.

rest, Lafayette, also helpii^ the cfaidren, took up the five-yewld Wail Whitman, and pressing the chikl a moment to his breast, and givvg faim a kiis handed him down to a safe spot in the txamSatKkJ^—Jokm

Among the

voi^ IT.—».

[17]

Specimen Da?6 volumes, an amazing very

many

Then, with sorties

treat.

other directions, took

novels, one after another,

and

in

in

Walter Scott's

his poetry, (and con-

tinue to enjoy novels and poetry to this day.)

After about Printing

two

years

went

to

work

weekly newspaper and printing

Brooklyn

a

ofiice, to

The paper was the Lofig Island Patriot, owned by S. E. Clements, who was also postmaster. An learn

oiT^^

in

the trade.

old printer in the office, William Hartshorne, a revolutionary character,

who had

seen Washington,

had many a

a special friend of mine, and

I

him about long past

The

times.

talk

go out

with

apprentices, includ-

ing myself, boarded with his grand-daughter. occasionally to

was

riding with the boss,

I

used

who was

very kind to us boys; Sundays he took us

all

to a

great old rough, fortress-looking stone church, on

Joralemon Street, near where the Brooklyn City Hall

now

is

—

(at that

time broad

everywhere around.*) *Of lines

fields

Afterward

and country roads I

work'd on the

the Brooklyn of that time (1830-40) hardly anything remains, except the

of the old

streets.

The population was then between

ten and twelve thousand.

For a mile Fulton Street was lined with magnificent elm-trees.

The

character of the

As a sample of comparative values, it may be mention'd that twenty-five acres in what is now the most costly part of the city, bounded by Flatbush and Fulton avenues, were then bought by Mr. Parmentier, a French emigre, for $4000. Who remembers the old places as they were ? Who remembers the old citizens of that time ? Among the former were Smith & Wood's, Coe Downing's, and other public houses at the ferry, the old Ferry itself, Love lane, the Heights as then, the Wallabout with the wooden bridge, and the road out beyond Fulton Street to the old toll-gate. Among the latter were the majestic and genial General Jeremiah Johnson, with others, Gabriel Furman, Rev. E. M. Johnson, place

was thoroughly

rural.

[18]

Specimen l)a?0 Long Island these

all

and

My

Star, Alden Spooner's paper.

years

builder,

pursuing

his

trade

with varying fortune.

growing family of children

as

father

carpenter

There was a

— eight of us — my brother my

Jesse the oldest, myself the second,

dear sisters

Mary and Hannah Louisa, my brothers Andrew, George, Thomas Jefferson, and then my youngest Edward, born

brother,

crippled, as

I

am

and

1835,

myself of

late years.

develop'd (1833-4-5) into a healthy,

I

strong youth (grew too

n'^Th^

always badly

fast,

though, was

man at 15 or 16.) Our period moved back to the

nearly as big as a

^oj.jj

family at this

country,

my

recover'd.

dear mother very

All these years

I

ill

for a

long time, but

was down Long

Island

more or less every summer, now east, now west, sometimes months at a stretch. At 16, 17, and so on,

was fond

of debating societies, and had an active

membership with them, off and on, in Brooklyn and one or two country towns on the island. A most omnivorous novel-reader, these and later years, devour'd everything could get. Fond of the theatre, somecould also, in New York, went whenever I

I

—

times witnessing fine performances. 1836-7, work'd as compositor in printing offices in

Alden Spooner, Mr.

Pierrepont,

Mr. Joralemon,

Samuel Willoughby, Jonathan

N. B. Morse, John Dikeman, Adrian Hegeman, William Udall, and old Mr. Duflon, with his military garden. Trotter,

George

Hall,

Cyrus

P. Smith,

[19]

Specimen Wa^B

New and

Then, when

York City.

for a

more than

i8,

while afterwards, went to teaching country

down

schools

little

''

in

Queens and

Long

Suffolk counties,

Island,

and

one of

my

human

nature behind the scenes and in the masses.)

boarded round."

(This latter

I

started

and publish'd a weekly paper

my native town, Huntington. Then New York City and Brooklyn, work'd '*

consider

best experiences and deepest lessons in

In '39, '40,

and

I

writer,

in

returning to

on as printer

mostly prose, but an occasional shy at

poetry."

SSSeT

th^^

fr^"^

and

still

New

Brooklyn or

Living in

t™^

York City

f^^^^^^>

"^y ''f^' then, more the following years, was

curiously identified with Fulton Ferry, already be-

coming the greatest of

its

sort

in

the world

for

general importance, volume, variety, rapidity, and picturesqueness.

Almost

daily, later, ('50 to '60,)

on the boats, often up

cross'd

where

I

could get a

full

eddies,

manity I

also,

underneath — the

What

oceanic cur-

great tides of hu-

with ever-shifting movements.

have always had a passion

afford

the pilot-houses

sweep, absorbing shows,

accompaniments, surroundings. rents,

in

inimitable,

I

streaming,

for ferries; to

Indeed,

me

never-failing,

they

living

and bay scenery, all about New the hurrying, York island, anytime of a fine day splashing sea-tides the changing panorama of poems.

The

river

—

—

[20]

Specimen Wn^e steamers,

bound

all sizes,

often a string of big ones

outward

ports— the myrfads of white-sail'd schooners, sloops, skiffs, and the marvellously beautiful yachts the majestic Sound boats as they rounded the Battery and came along towards 5, afterto distant

—

bound— the prospect off towards or down the Narrows, or the other way

noon, eastward Staten Island,

—

what refreshment of spirit such up the Hudson sights and experiences gave me years ago (and many a time

since.)

My

old pilot friends, the

Balsirs,

Johnny Cole, Ira Smith, William White, and young ferry friend, Tom Gere how well I member them all.

—

my re-

Besides Fulton Ferry, off and on for years, I

iTte'^''^

knew and

frequented Broadway

noted avenue of

New

York's

— that

crowded

and mixed humanity, and of so many notables. Here

1

saw,

son, Webster, filibuster

during Clay,

Walker,

Andrew JackSeward, Martin Van Buren, those

Kossuth,

times,

Fitz-Greene

Halleck,

Bryant, the Prince of Wales, Charles Dickens, the first

ties

Japanese ambassadors, and lots of other celebriAlways something novel or inof the time.

spiring;

yet mostly to

me

the hurrying and vast

amplitude of those never-ending

human

currents.

I

remember seeing James Fenimore Cooper in a courtroom in Chambers Street, back of the City Hall, where he was carrying on a law case— (I think it [21]

Specimen 2)a?0 was

he had brought against some also remember seeing Edgar A. Poe, and

a charge of

one.)

I

libel

having a short interview with him,

been

in

1845 or

his office,

'6,) in

(it

must have

second story of a

He was

corner building, (Duane or Pearl Street.)

and owner or part owner of The Broadway Journal The visit was about a piece of mine he had publish'd. Poe was very cordial, in a quiet editor

way, appear'd well in person, dress, &c. have a distinct and pleasing remembrance of his looks, voice, manner and matter; very kindly and human, I

but subdued, perhaps a of

my

little

jaded.

For another

reminiscences, here on the west side, just

below Houston

Street,

I

once saw

(it

must have*been

about 1832, of a sharp, bright January day) a bent, feeble but stout-built very old in rich furs,

led

and

man, bearded, swathed

with a great ermine cap on his head,

assisted, almost carried,

down

the steps of

and servants, dozen emulous, carefully holding, guiding him) and then lifted and tuck'd in a gorgeous sleigh, envelop'd in other furs, for a ride. The sleigh was drawn by as fine a team of horses as ever saw. (You needn't think all the best animals are brought up nowadays; never was such horseflesh as fifty years ago on Long Island, or south, or in New York City; folks look'd for spirit and mettle in a nag, not tame speed merely.) Well, I, a boy of perhaps 13 or 14, stopp'd and gazed long at the spectacle of that fur-swathed old man, his high front stoop (a

friends

I

[22]

Specimen 2)a?0 surrounded by friends and servants, and the careful seating of him in the sleigh.

I remember the spirited, champing horses, the driver with his whip, and a fellow-driver by his side, for extra prudence. The old man, the subject of so much attention, can almost see now. It was John Jacob Astor. The years 1846, '47, and there along, see me still in New York City, working as writer and printer, having my usual good health, and a good time I

generally.

ja^ts^'^d

One phase ^^^^^ ^^

of those days must

unrecorded

by no

— namely,

the

Broadway omnibuses, with their drivers. The vehicles still (I write this paragraph 881) give a portion of the character of Broadway the Fifth Avenue, Madison Avenue, and Twenty-

Drivers

in

—

1

third Street lines yet running.

But the flush days of

the old Broadway stages, characteristic and copious, are

over.

The Yellow-birds, the

Red-birds,

the

Broadway, the Fourth Avenue, the Knickerbocker, and a dozen others of twenty or thirty years original

ago, are

all

gone.

And

with them, and giving

the

men

vitality

specially identified

and meaning to them

— the drivers — a strange, natural, quick-eyed and wondrous race — (not only Rabelais and Cervantes would have gloated upon them, but Homer and remember them, how well Shakspere would) and must here give a word about them. How many

—

I

[23]

Specimen 2)a?0

— how many exhave had — perhaps June or

hours, forenoons and afternoons hilarating night-times July, in cooler air

way,

I

— riding the whole length of Broad-

listening to

some

yarn, (and the

most vivid

yarns ever spun, and the rarest mimicry)

haps

declaiming some stormy passage from Julius

I

C^sar or Richard, (you could chose

in

roar as loudly as

you

that heavy, dense, uninterrupted street-

Yes,

bass.) Jack,

— or per-

knew

I

the drivers then, Broadway

all

Dressmaker, Balky

Elephant, his brother afterward,) Tippy,

Bill,

Young

Pop

George Storms, Old

(who came

Elephant,

Rice, Big Frank,

Yellow

Joe,

Pete Callahan, Patsey Dee, and dozens more; for

They had immense

there were hundreds. largely

animal

— eating,

personal pride, in their

here and there, but

run of them,

under

all

(I

women — great

way — perhaps a few slouches

should have trusted the general

in their

simple good-will and honor,

circumstances.

and sometimes also.

I

drinking;

qualities,

affection

suppose the

Not only

for

— great studies

critics will

comradeship, I

found them

laugh heartily, but

the influence of those Broadway omnibus Jaunts and drivers

and declamations and escapades undoubtedly

entered into the gestation oi Leaves of Grass.

And

certain

actors

and

singers,

had a

do with the business. All frethrough these years, off and on, quented the old Park, the Bowery, Broadway and

Ope^a^oo

Sood

deal to

1

[24]

Specimen 2)a?0 Chatham-square

theatres,

and the

operas at Chambers-street, Astor-place or the Battery many Italian

—

seasons

was on the

as quite a

youth.

free

list,

The

writing for papers even

Park theatre

old

— what

names, reminiscences, the words bring back! Placide, Clarke, Mrs. Vernon, Fisher, Clara F., Mrs.

Wood,

Mrs.

Seguin,

Ellen

Tree,

Hackett,

the

younger Kean, Macready, Mrs. Richardson, Rice

What

singers, tragedians, comedians. ing!

Henry Placide

in

*'

—

perfect act-

Napoleon's Old Guard" or

Whitehead,"— or

The Provoked Husband" of Gibber, with Fanny Kemble as Lady Townley or Sheridan Knowles in his own ''Virginius" or inimitable Power in ''Born to Good ''Grandfather

''

— —

These, and

Luck."

many more,

the years of youth

—

name to conjure up and onward. Fanny Kemble great mimic scenes withal— perhaps the greatest. remember well her rendering of Bianca in "Fazio," and Marianna in "The Wife." Nothing finer did 1

ever stage exhibit

and minute

so,

my cell.

— the veterans of

boyish heart and head

The lady was

all

felt

nations said it

in

every

just matured, strong,

merely beautiful, born from the foothad had three years' practice in London and

better than lights,

through the British towns, and then she came to give America that young maturity and roseate power noon, or rather forenoon, flush. It was my good luck to see her nearly every night she play'd at in all their

the old

Park— certainly in

all

[253

her principal characters.

Specimen Da?0 I

heard, these years, well rendered,

and other operas

all

the Italian

Sonnambula," ''The Puritans," ''Der Freischutz," ''Huguenots," " Fille in

vogue,

''

du Regiment," "Faust," "EtoileduNord," "Poliuto," and others. Verdi's "Ernani," "Rigoletto," and "Trovatore," with Donnizetti's "Lucia" or " Favorita" or "Lucrezia," and Auber's " Massaniello," or Rossini's "William Tell" and "Gazza Ladra," were among my special enjoyments. heard Alboni every time she sang in New York and vicinity also Grisi, the tenor Mario, and the baritone Badiali, the I

—

finest in the world.

This musical passion follow'd

As

a

boy

or

carefully the

young man

my

theatrical one.

had seen, (reading them

I

day beforehand,) quite

all

Shakspere's

Even yet cannot conceive anything finer than old Booth in "Richard Third," or " Lear," (I don't know which was best,) or lago, (or Pescara, or Sir Giles Overreach, to go outside of Shakspere)— or Tom Hamblin acting dramas, play'd wonderfully well. I

in

" Macbeth

"

—or old Clarke, either as the ghost

" Hamlet," or as Prospero

in

"The Tempest,"

in

with

Mrs. Austin as Ariel, and Peter Richings as Caliban.

Then other dramas, and fine players in them, Forrest John R. Scott as Metamora or Damon or Brutus as Tom Cringle or Rolla— or Charlotte Cushman's Lady Gay Spanker in " London Assurance." Then of some years later, at Castle Garden, Battery, yet recall the splendid seasons of the Havana musical troupe

—

I

[26]

Specimen under Maretzek—the the unsurpass'd Marini ' '

fine

2)ai20

band, the cool sea breezes,

vocalism— Steffan'one,

Bosio, Truffi,

''Marino Faliero," ''Don Pasquale," or Favorita. " No better playing or singing ever in New in

York.

It

(The

was here too

Battery

—

its

I

afterward heard Jenny Lind.

past

associations

— what

those old trees and walks and sea walls could

In 1848, '49,

Through

I

was occupied

^^^ Daily Eagle

tales

tell!)

as editor of

newspaper,

Brook-

in

went off on a leisurely journey and working expedition (my brother Jeff with me) through the middle States, and down the Ohio and Mississippi rivers. Lived awhile in New Orleans, and work'd there 'y^-

Years

on the

T^he latter year

editorial staff of

Daily Crescent newspaper.

After a time plodded back northward,

and by the way of the great Michigan, Huron, and Erie, to Niagara falls

and around

sippi,

lakes,

to,

and lower Canada,

New

finally returning

through central

York and down the Hudson;

traveling alto-

gether probably 8,000 miles this '51,

'53,

(For a daily

my

up the Missis-

occupied

little

of the

in first

to and

trip,

house-building part of that time

in in

and weekly paper, The Freeman.)

dear father this year by death.

fro.

Brooklyn. printing a '5

s

lost

Commenced

putting Leaves of Grass to press for good, at the job printing office of my friends, the brothers Rome, in

Brooklyn, after

many MS. [27]

doings and undoings—

Specimen (I

had great trouble

2)ai?0

ical" touches, but succeeded at last.)

(1856-7) passing through

To sum up

am now

1

37th year.

more unrecorded,) estimate three leading sources and form-

(and, of course,

Results—"

'

literary

far, far

my own

stamps to

ative

solidified for

quent

my

poet-

the foregoing from the outset

Sources of

1860

''

leaving out the stock

in

character,

good or bad, and

and other outgrowth

its

—the

now

subse-

maternal

nativity-stock brought hither from far-away Netherlands, for one, (doubtless the

tenacity and central

bony

best)—the subterranean

structure (obstinacy, wil-

which get from my paternal English elements, for another— and the combination of my Long

fulness)

Island

I

sea-shores,

birth-spot,

childhood's

absorptions, with teeming Brooklyn

—with,

I

suppose,

my

and

scenes,

New

York

experiences afterward in the

secession outbreak, for the third

by news that my brother the 51st New York volunteers,

For, in 1862, startled

George, an officer

in

had been seriously wounded (first Fredericksburg hurriedly went down to the battle, December 13th,) But must go back a little. field of war in Virginia. I

I

News

of the attack on Fort Sumter and

Opening of

fhe flag at Charleston harbor, S.

yf^

receiv'd in

New

York City

(13th April, 1861,) and

late at night

was immediately

sent out in extras of the newspapers. [28]

C, was

I

had been to

Specimen 2)a?0 the opera

in

Fourteenth Street that night, and

after

the performance was walking down Broadway toward

twelve o'clock, on heard

in

my way

to Brooklyn,

when

I

the distance the loud cries of the newsboys,

who came

presently tearing and

yelling

up the

rushing from side to side even more furiously

street,

bought an extra and cross'd to the Metropolitan hotel (Niblo's) where the great lamps were still brightly blazing, and, with a crowd of

than usual.

1

who

others,

gather'd impromptu, read the news,

which was evidently authentic. For the benefit of some who had no papers, one of us read the telegram aloud, while all listened silently and attentively. No remark was made by any of the crowd, which had increas'd to thirty or forty, but all stood a remember, before they dispersed. minute or two, can almost see them there now, under the lamps at 1

I

midnight again.

have said somewhere that the three Presidentiads preceding 1861 show'd how I

National

of rulers Voi^t'etr^gthe weakness and wickedness are just as eligible here in America under republican, as in Europe under dynastic influences. But what can I say of that prompt and splendid

wrestling with secession slavery, the arch-enemy personified, the instant he unmistakably show'd his face?

The firing

upheaval of the nation, on the flag at Charleston, proved

volcanic

[39]

after

that

for certain

Specimen ®ai?0 something which

had been previously

great

in

doubt, and at once substantially settled the question of disunion.

In

my judgment

it

will

remain as the

grandest and most encouraging spectacle yet vouch-

any age, old or new, to

safed in

progress

political

what came to the but surface merely though that was important what it indicated below, which was of eternal importance. Down in the abysms of New World humanity there had form'd and harden'd a primal hardpan of national Union will, determin'd and in and democracy.

was not

It

for

—

—

the majority, refusing to be tamper'd with or argued against, confronting

all

emergencies, and capable at

any time of bursting

all

surface bonds, and breaking

out

like

an earthquake.

It is,

indeed, the best lesson

of the century, or of America, and privilege to tacles, all

have been part of

it.

it

is

(Two

a mighty

great spec-

immortal proofs of democracy, unequall'd

the history of the past,

secession

war — one at

are furnished

in

by the

the beginning, the other at

Those are, the general, voluntary, arm'd upheaval, and the peaceful and harmonious disbandits close.

ing of the armies in the

Even ^^°" FeeUng^^^

after

summer

the

of 1865.)

bombardment

however, the gravity of the

of Sumter, revolt,

and

the power and will of the slave States for a strong and continued military resistance

to national authority,

were not [30]

at all realized at the

Specimen Bw^e North, except by a few.

Nine-tenths of the people

of the free States look'd upon the rebellion, as started

South Carolina, from a feeling one-half of contempt, and the other half composed of anger and in

incredulity.

It

was not thought

would be

it

joih'd

by Virginia, North Carolina, or Georgia. A great and cautious national official predicted that it would blow over ''in sixty days," and folks generally beremember talking about it on liev'd the prediction. in

I

a Fulton ferry-boat with the Brooklyn mayor,

who

would they W9uld

said he only ''hoped the Southern fire-eaters

commit some overt then

be

once

at

act of resistance, as

so

effectually

squelch 'd,

we

would never hear of secession again— but he was afraid they never would have the pluck to really do remember, too, that a couple of comanything." I

panies of the Thirteenth Brooklyn, at the city armory,

men, were

all

who

and started thence as

rendezvou'd thirty days'

provided with pieces of rope, con-

spicuously tied to their musket-barrels, with which to bring back each man a prisoner from the audacious

South, to be led in a noose, on our men's early and

triumphant return!

was destin'd to be arrested and revers'd by a terrible shock certainly, as the battle of first Bull Run All this sort of feeling

Battle of

jiS,^i86i

-

we now know lar fights

—

on record.

(All

one of the most singubattles, and their results,

it,

E3I]

Specimen Baua more matters of accident than is generally thought but this was throughout a casualty, a Each side supposed it had won, till the last chance. moment. One had, in point of fact, just the same By a fiction, or series right to be routed as the other. are far

;

moment field.) The

of fictions, the national forces at the last

exploded

a panic and fled from the

in

defeated troops

commenced pouring

ton over the Long Bridge at

22d

— day

drizzling

all

Washingdaylight on Monday, into

through with

The

rain.

Saturday and Sunday of the battle (20th, 21st,) had

— the

been parch'd and hot to an extreme grime and smoke,

in layers,

sweated

other layers again sweated excited souls

— their

clay-powder

filling

the

air

all

—

on the dry roads and trodden

followed

by

absorb'd by those

in,

clothes

in,

dust, the

saturated with the

up everywhere by the regiments,

stirr'd

fields

—

swarming wagons, artillery, &c. all the men with this coating of murk and sweat and rain, now recoila horrible ing back, pouring over the Long Bridge march of twenty miles, returning to Washington

—

baffled,

Where

humiliated, panic-struck.

are

the

which you went your banners, and your bands of

vaunts, and the proud boasts with forth ?

Where are

music, and your ropes to bring back your prisoners ?

Well, there

is n't

flag but clings

The sun at

first

a band playing

ashamed and lank

rises,

sparsely

but shines not.

— and there to

is n't

a

its staff.

The men

appear,

and shame-faced enough, then [32]

;

Specimen Daija thicker, in

the streets of Washington

— appear

in

Pennsylvania Avenue, and on the steps and basement entrances. They come along in disorderly mobs,

some

in

squads, stragglers, companies. Occasionally,

a rare regiment, in perfect order, with

its

officers

(some gaps, dead, the true braves,) marching in silence, with lowering faces, stern, weary to sinking, all black and dirty, but every man with his musket, and stepping alive but these are the exceptions. Sidewalks of Pennsylvania Avenue, Fourteenth Street, &€., crowded, jamm'd with citizens, darkies, clerks, everybody, lookers-on women in the windows, curious expressions from faces, as those swarms of ;

;

dirt

cover'd returned soldiers there (will they never

end

?)

move by

;

but nothing

said,

(half our lookers-on secesh of the

kind

— they

most venomous

say nothing; but the devil snickers

their faces.) all

no comments in

During the forenoon Washington gets

over motley with these defeated soldiers

— queer-

looking objects, strange eyes and faces, drench 'd (the

steady rain drizzles on

day) and fearfully worn,

all

hungry, haggard, blister'd

in

the

feet.

Good

people

(but not over-many of them either,) hurry up some-

They put wash-kettles on They set tables on coffee.

thing for their grub. fire,

for soup, for

sidewalks

— wagon-loads

swiftly cut in

of bread are

the the

purchased,

Here are two aged the city for culture and

stout chunks.

ladies, beautiful,

the

first in

charm, they stand with store of eating and drink at VOL. IV.-3.

[33]

Specimen 2)a?0 an improv'is'd table of rough plank, and give food,

and have the store replenished from half-hour all that day and there ;

stand, active, silent, white-hair'd,

their in

house every

the rain they

and give

food,

though the tears stream down their cheeks, almost without intermission, the whole time. Amid the deep excitement, crowds and motion, and desperate eagerness,

seems strange to see many, very many,

it

sound.

—

the midst of

all,

sleeping

They drop down anywhere, on the

steps of

of the soldiers sleeping

in

houses, up close by the basements or fences, on the

some vacant lot, and deeply sleep. year old boy lies there, on the stoop

sidewalk, aside on

A

poor

17 or

1

8

of a grand house; he sleeps so calmly, so profoundly.

Some Some

clutch their muskets firmly even in

in

sleep.

squads; comrades, brothers, close together

— and on them, as they As afternoon streets, the

lay, sulkily drips

pass'd,

the rain.

and evening came, the

bar-rooms, knots everywhere, listeners,

questioners, terrible yarns, bugaboo, mask'd batteries,

our regiment

cut up, &c.

all

— stories and story-tel-

windy, bragging, vain centres of street-crowds. Resolution, manliness, seem to have abandon'd

lers,

The

Washington.

principal hotel, Willard's,

of shoulder-straps— thick, shoulder-straps.

with them.

where

(1

Incompetents

see them, and

There you

are your 1

crush'd,

are,

is

full

creeping with

must have a word

shoulder-straps!

— but

companies? where are your men?

never

tell

me [34]

of chances of battle, of

— specimen getting stray'd, and the

work, this

retreat,

after

H)ai?0

like.

I

think this

your

is

Sneak, blow, put on

all.

sumptuous parlors and barrooms, or anywhere no explanation shall save you. Bull Run is your work; had you been half or onetenth worthy your men, this would never have airs there

Willard's

in

—

happened.)

Meantime,

in

Washington, among the great per-

sons and their entourage, a mixture of awful consternation, uncertainty, rage, shame, helplessness,

The worst

stupefying disappointment.

imminent, but already here.

haps before the next

meal— the

with their victorious hordes,

not only

is

few hours

In a

— per-

secesh generals,

be upon

will

and

The

us.

dream of humanity, the vaunted Union we thought so strong, so impregnable lo! it seems already

—

smash'd

like a

— perhaps

proud America

such an hour. spare. capitol shall

china plate.

fly

they be

left

and

among

know

— no time to

dome-crown'd

stately over the trees

— or destroy'd

first ?

For

certain of the

it is

cer-

magnates

and officials everywhere, for and around Washington after

clerks

twenty-four hours Bull

never again

palaces — the

Those white there on the hill, so

officers

will

hour

bitter, bitter

She must pack and

tain that the talk

and

One

in

Run, was loud and undisguised

for yielding

out

and substituting the southern rule, and If the Lincoln promptly abdicating and departing. secesh officers and forces had immediately followed, and

out,

[35]

Specimen Dai^a and by a bold Napoleonic movement had enter'd Washington the first day, (or even the second,) they could have had things their own way, and a powerful faction

North to back them.

One of our returning swarm

colonels expressed in public that night, amid a

of officers and gentlemen in a crowded room, the

was useless to fight, that the Southerners had made their title clear, and that the best course for the national government to pursue was to

opinion that

it

any further attempt at stopping them, and admit them again to the lead, on the best terms they desist from

Not a voice was rais'd against this judgment, amid that large crowd of officers and gentlemen. (The fact is, the hour was one of the three or four of those crises we had then and afterwere willing to

grant.

ward, during the fluctuations of four years,

human eyes

appear'd at least just as likely to see the

last breath of

The stupor

when

the Union as to see

it

continue.)

But the hour, the day, the night pass'd. ^^^ whatever returns, an hour, a day, a

Pd.SS6 S

Something Else Begins

^'^ht like that can never again return.

The that

President, recovering himself, begins

very

night

— sternly,

about the task of reorganizing his himself

in

forces,

rapidly

sets

and placing

positions for future and surer work.

If

Abraham Lincoln for hisstamp him with, it is enough to send him

there were nothing else of

tory to

with his wreath to the

memory [36]

of

all

future time,

Specimen

2)ai?0

that he endured that hour, that day, bitterer than

— indeed a crucifixion day —that did not conquer him — that he unflinchingly stemm'd and

gall

it

it,

resolv'd to

lift

himself and the Union out of

it.

Then the great New York papers at once appeared, (commencing that evening, and following it up the

many days

next morning, and incessantly through

afterwards,) with leaders that rang out over the land

with the loudest, most reverberating ring of clearest bugles,

full

of encouragement, hope, inspiration, un-

Those magnificent editorials! The Herald they never flagg'd for a fortnight. remember the articles well. commenced them The Tribune was equally cogent and inspiriting and the Times, Evening Post, and other principal They came in papers, were not a whit behind. defiance.

faltering

—

I

—

good time, miliation

from

they were needed.

for

in

the hu-

of Bull Run, the popular feeling North,

extreme of superciliousness,

its

For

recoil'd to the

depth of gloom and apprehension.

days of the war, there are two Those were the day especially I can never forget. following the news, in New York and Brooklyn, of

(Of

all

the

and the day of Abraham was home in Brooklyn on both Lincoln's death. The day of the murder we heard the occasions. news very early in the morning. Mother prepared

that

first

Bull

Run

defeat,

I

—

as usual; breakfast— and other meals afterward but not a mouthful was eaten all day by either of us. [37]

Specimen Da?0

We

each drank half a cup of coffee; that was

was

Little

said.

We

all.

got every newspaper morning

and evening, and the frequent extras of that period,

and pass'd them

silently to

each other.)

Falmouth, Va., opposite Fredericksburg,

Down

at

December 21,

the Front

among

the

/<?($2.

camp

— Begin

my

visits

army of

hospitals in the

Spend a good part of the day in a large brick mansion on the banks of the Rappahanseems to nock, used as a hospital since the battle have receiv'd only the worst cases. Out doors, at

the Potomac.

—

the foot of a tree, within ten yards of the front of the

house,

notice a heap of amputated feet, legs, arms,

I

hands, &c., a

dead bodies

load for a one-horse cart.

full lie

near, each cover'd with

woolen blanket.

the door-yard,

In

mostly of

river, are fresh graves,

Several

its

brown

towards

the

names

officers, their

on pieces of barrel-staves or broken boards, stuck

in

(Most of these bodies were subsequently taken up and transported north to their friends.) the

dirt.

The large mansion is quite crowded upstairs and down, everything impromptu, no system, all bad enough, but done;

men

all

have no doubt the best that can be

wounds

the

in their

prisoners. i

pretty bad,

some

frightful,

are

rebel

soldiers

and

One, a Mississippian, a captain,

talk'd

with some time; he ask'd [38]

the

Some

old clothes, unclean and bloody.

wounded

of the

in leg,

I

officers,

hit

me

badly

for pa-

Specimen 2)a^0 pers,

which

I

gave him.

(I

saw him

three

months

afterward in Washington, with his leg amputated,

doing well.)

I

went through the rooms, downstairs

Some

and up.

men were

of the

nothing to give at that

visit,

dying.

but wrote a few

1

had

letters

home, mothers, &c. Also talk'd to three or who seem'd most susceptible to it, and need-

to folks four,

ing

it.

December 2} After First

to 5/.

— The

j^^^ battle are exhibited

results of the

everywhere about

here in thousands of cases, (hundreds die

burg

every day,)

These are merely

hospitals.

division

the camp, brigade, and

in

tents,

and

sometimes very poor ones, the wounded lying on the ground, lucky if their blankets are spread on layers of pine or

No

hemlock twigs, or small

leaves.

is pretty It seldom even a mattress. The ground is frozen hard, and there is oc-

cots;

cold.

go around from one case to another. do not see that do much good to these wounded and dying; but I cannot leave them. Once in a while some youngster holds on to me can for him; at any do what convulsively, and rate, stop with him and sit near him for hours, if snow.

casional

I

I

I

I

I

he wishes

it.

go occasionally on long tours through the camps, talking with the men, &c. Sometimes at night among the groups around the Besides the hospitals,

I

also

[39]

Specimen 2)a?0 shebang enclosures of bushes. These 1 are curious shows, full of characters and groups. soon get acquainted anywhere in camp, with officers Sometimes go or men, and am always well used. fires, in their

I

down on

picket with the regiments

army here

I

know best.

As

seems to be tolerably well supplied, and the men have enough, such as it is, mainly salt pork and hard tack. Most to

rations, the

at present

of the regiments lodge in the flimsy tents.

A few have

mud, with

built

little

shelter-

themselves huts of logs and

fire-places.

January,

'63,

— Left

Back to Y/ith Washington

camp

at

Falmouth,

some wounded, a few days since, and came here by Atjuia creek railroad, and so on government steamer up the Potomac. Many wounded were with us on the cars and boat. The cars were just common platform ones. The railroad journey of ten or twelve miles was made mostly before sunrise. The soldiers guarding the road came out from their tents or shebangs of bushes -^

^

with rumpled hair and half-awake look.

'

Those on

duty were walking their posts, some on banks over

down

below the level of the track. saw large cavalry camps off the road. At Aquia creek landing were numbers of wounded going north. went around While waited some three hours, us, others

far

I

I

I

among them.

wanted word sent home to wives, &c., which did for them,

Several

parents brothers,

1

[40]

Specimen 2)a?0 (by mail the next day from Washington.) boat

had

I

my

hands

One poor

full.

On

the

fellow died

going up. I

am now

remaining

and around Washington,

in

Am much

daily visiting the hospitals. office,

Eighth Street,

others.

Am now

money,

(as

experience. in

H

Patent-

Armory-square, and

Street,

do a

able to

in

little

good, having

almoner of others home,) and getting To-day, Sunday afternoon and till nine

the evening, visited Campbell hospital; attended

ward I, very sick with pleurisy and typhoid fever, young man, farmer's son, D. F. Russell, company E, 6oth New York, downhearted and feeble; a long time before he would take any interest; wrote a letter home to his mother, specially

in

to

one case

in

Malone, Franklin County, N. Y., at his request;

gave him some

fruit

and one or two other

envelop'd and directed his

thoroughly through ward the ward, without,

1

letter,

6,

&c.

gifts;

Then went

observed every case

in

think, missing one; gave per-

haps from twenty to thirty persons, each one some little gift, such as oranges, apples, sweet crackers, figs,

&c.

Thursday, Jan, 5/.— Devoted the main part of the day to Armory-square hospital; went pretty thoroughly through wards F, G, H, and 1; some fifty

cases in each ward.

In

ward F supplied the

writing paper and stamp'd envelope each; distributed in small portions, to proper

men throughout with

E4X]

Specimen Bapa subjects, a

large jar of first-rate preserv'd berries,

which had been donated to me by a lady

— her own

Found several cases thought good subjects for small sums of money, which furnish'd. (The wounded men often come up broke, and it helps their spirits to have even the small sum give cooking.

I

1

1

My

them.)

tributed a as

I

paper and envelopes

good

lot of

all

gone, but dis-

amusing reading matter;

also,

thought judicious, tobacco, oranges, apples, &c.

Interesting cases in

company

ward

I;

Charles Miller, bed

D, 53d Pennsylvania,

very bright, courageous boy,

left

amputated below

leg

the knee; next bed to him, another sick;

gave each appropriate

also,

amputation of the

of raspberries; bed

gifts.

left leg;

young

In the

lad very

bed above,

gave him a

(1

jar

little

ward, gave small sum; also on crutches, sitting on his bed near. more and more surprised at the very great i,

this

to a soldier

am

19,

only 16 years of age,

is

.

.

proportion of youngsters from fifteen to twenty-one in

the army.

portion

among

I

afterwards found a

still

greater pro-

the Southerners.)

Evening, same day, went to see D. alluded to; found

F. R.,

him remarkably changed

before for

the

—

quite a triumph; he afterup and dress'd wards got well, and went back to his regiment. Distributed in the wards a quantity of note-paper, and forty or fifty stamped envelopes, of which had better;

1

recruited

my

stock,

and the men were much

need. C4a]

in

Specimen 2)a?a Here ^'^'''^^

is

the case of a soldier

I

among

found

Wounded on

^^^ crowded cots in the Patent-office. He '"^^^ to have some one to talk to, and we

the Field

will listen to

S?

his leg

eventful Saturday,

He got badly

him.

and side

at

hit in

Fredericksburg that

He

13th of December.

lay the

succeeding two days and nights helpless on the field, between the city and those grim terraces of batteries;

company and regiment had been compell'd leave him to his fate. To make matters worse, his

to it

happen'd he lay with his head slightly down hill, and could not help himself. At the end of some hours he was brought

fifty

under a

flag of truce.

him

off,

with other wounded,

ask him

I

how

the rebels

two days and nights within reach of them— whether they came to him whether they abused him? He answers that several of the rebels, soldiers and others, came to him at one time and another. A couple of them, treated

as he lay during those

—

who were

together, spoke roughly and sarcastically,

but nothing worse.

One middle-aged man, how-

who

seem'd to be moving around the field, among the dead and wounded, for benevolent purever,

poses,

came

to

him

in a

way he

will

never forget;

wounds, cheer'd him, gave him a couple of biscuits and a drink of whiskey and water; asked him if he could eat some beef. This good secesh, however, did not change our soldier's position, for it might

treated our soldier kindly,

[43]

bound up

his

Specimen Da^e have caused the blood to burst from the wounds, clotted and stagnated. Our soldier is from Penn-

wounds

sylvania; has had a pretty severe time; the

proved to be bad ones.

and

not

uncommon

to remain on the field this

way, one,

on the gain.

at present

is

for the

men

But he retains a good heart,

two, or even four or

five days.)

Letter Writing. s^*^^^*^^

them for a

—When

eligible,

I

encour-

^^^ ^^^ ^^" *^ write, and myself, when called upon, write all sorts of letters for

d

Persons

ones.)

(It is

(including love letters, very tender

Almost as

new

I

reel off

these memoranda,

M. de

patient to his wife.

Connecticut,

company H, has

just

F.,

write

I

of the 17th

come up (Febru-

ary 17th) from Windmill point, and

is

received in

ward H, Armory-square. He is an intelligent looking man, has a foreign accent, black-eyed and hair'd, a Hebraic appearance. sent to his wife.

send the message sit

down and

New

a telegraphic message

Canaan, Conn.

— but to

make

I

agree to

things sure

I

also

and despatch it immediately, as he fears she will

write the wife a

to the post-office

come

Wants

letter,

on, and he does not wish her to, as he will

surely get well.

Saturday,

Campbell

January

hospital.

(6)

— Afternoon,

visited

Scene of cleaning up the ward,

— through the the patients dressing or being dress'd — the

and giving the men

ward

30^^.

all

clean clothes

[44]

Specimen Dai^e naked upper half of the bodies— the good-humor and fun the shirts, drawers, sheets of beds, &c., and the general fixing up for Sunday. Gave J. L. 50

—

cents.

Wednesday, square

February

went

hospital,

wards E and D. all

who

wish'd

^^A.— Visited Armory-

pretty thoroughly through

Supplied paper and envelopes to

— as usual, found plenty of men who

Wrote letters. Saw and talk'd with two or three members of the Brooklyn 14th regt. A poor fellow in ward D, with a fearful wound in a fearful condition, was having some loose needed those

articles.

bone taken from the neighborhood of the The operation was long, and one of great

splinters of

wound. pain

bore

— yet, it

wasted

after

it

in silence.

— had

was He

lain a

well commenced, the soldier sat up,

propped- was much

long time quiet

in

one position

(not for days only but weeks,) a bloodless, brown-

skinn'd face, with eyes longed to a

New

full

of determination

York regiment.

— be-

There was an

unusual cluster of surgeons, medical cadets, nurses,

—

thought the whole thing was done with tenderness, and done well. In one case, the wife sat by the side of her husband, his sickness &c., around his bed

I

by the side of her son, a mother— she told me she had seven (A fine, kind, children, and this was the youngest.

typhoid fever, pretty bad.

In another,

healthy, gentle mother, good-looking, not very old,

with a cap on her head, and dress'd [45]

like

home

—

Specimen what the

a charm

woman

2)ai20

gave to the whole ward.)

it

nurse

in

ward E —

1

noticed

a long time

by a poor fellow who

morning,

addition

how

just

I

liked

she sat

had, that

bad gently assisted him, relieved him of the blood, holding a cloth to his mouth, as he coughed it up he was so weak he could only just turn his head over on the pillow. One young New York man, with a bright, handsome face, had been lying several months from a most disagreeable wound, receiv'd at Bull Run. A bullet had shot him right through the bladder, hitting in

to

his

other

sickness,

hemorrhage — she

—

him

front,

He had

low

sufifer'd

in

the belly, and coming out back.

much

— the water

came out of the

wound, by slow but steady quantities, for many so that he lay almost constantly in a sort weeks and there were other disagreeable cirof puddle cumstances. He was of good heart, however. At present comparatively comfortable, had a bad throat, was delighted with a stick of horehound candy I gave him, with one or two other

—

—

trifles.

February 2^, Patent-

hospital

Hospital

—

I

at the

must not

let

Patent-office

without some mention.

the great

pass

away

A few weeks

ago the vast area of the second story of

Washington buildings was crowded with rows of sick, badly wounded and dying

that noblest of close

[46]

Specimen

2)ai20

They were placed in went there many apartments. soldiers.

I

strange, solemn, and, with

and

all its

very large

three times.

It

was

a

features of suffering

death, a sort of fascinating sight.

I

go some-

times at night to soothe and relieve particular cases.

Two

immense apartments are fill'd with high and ponderous glass cases, crowded with models in of the

miniature of every kind of utensil, machine or invention,

it

ever entered into the mind of

and with

ceive;

man

and foreign

curiosities

to con-

presents.

Between these cases are lateral openings, perhaps eight feet wide and quite deep, and in these were placed the sick, besides a great long double row of them, up and

down through

the middle of the

hall.

them were very bad cases, wounds and amputations. Then there was a gallery running above the hall in which there were beds also. It

Many

was,

when

of

indeed, lit

up.

a curious scene, especially at night

The

glass cases, the beds, the forms

lying there, the gallery above, the marble pavement

— the suffering, and the fortitude to bear various degrees — occasionally, from some, the groan that could not be repress'd — sometimes a under foot

it

in

poor fellow dying, with emaciated face and glassy eye, the nurse by his side, the doctor also there, but

— such

were the sights but (The wounded have lately in the Patent-office. since been removed from there, and it is now vacant no

friend,

no

relative

again.) [47]

Specimen Bass February

—A

24th.

spell

of

fine

wander about a good sometimes at night under the moon. weather.

HousT^*^ MoonUght

I

soft

deal,

To-

night took a long look at the President's

— the palace-like, round columns, spotless as snow — the walls also —

house.

The white

portico

tall,

the tender and soft moonlight, flooding the pale mar-

and making peculiar faint languishing shades, not shadows everywhere a soft transparent hazy, thin,

ble,

—

blue moon-lace, hanging extra-plentiful clusters

in

the

air

—the

brilliant

and

of gas, on and around the

— everything so white, — the White dazzling, yet

facade, columns, portico, &c.

so marbly pure and

House of

soft

future poems,

and of dreams and dramas,

there in the soft and copious front, in

moon

— the gorgeous

the trees, under the lustrous flooding moon,

— the forms of the trunk and myriad-angles of branches, under the stars and sky — White House of the land, and of beauty and night — sentries full

of realty,

leafless,

full

of illusion

trees,

in

silent,

^the

at the gates, in

and by the

blue overcoats

ing

— stopping you not at

you with sharp Let

portico, silent, pacing there

eyes, whichever

all,

but eye-

way you move.

me specialize a visit made to the colI

not^

lection of barrack-like one-story edifices,

Ward

Campbell

hospital, out

on the

flats, at

end of the then horse railway Seventh

Street.

There

is

route,

the

on

a long building appropri-

[48]

specimen Daija ated to each ward. tains, to-day,

half sick,

patients,

Let us go into ward

6.

It

con-

should judge, eighty or a hundred

I

half

wounded.

The

nothing but boards, well whitewash'd usual slender-framed

edifice is

and the iron bedsteads, narrow and

plain.

You walk down

row on

either side, their feet

inside,

the central passage, with a

towards you, and

heads to the wall.

their

There are fires in and the prevailing white of the walls

large stoves,

pants can be taken at once, for there

no

is reliev'd by some ornaments, stars, circles, &c., made of evergreens. The view of the whole edifice and occuis

partition.

You may hear groans or other sounds of unendurable suffering from two or three of the cots, but in the main there

is

quiet

— almost

a painful absence

demonstration; but the pallid

and the

moisture of the

enough.

Most of these

young such

lip,

of

face, the dull'd eye,

are

demonstration

sick or hurt are evidently

fellows from the country, farmers' sons, and

like.

Look

at the fine large frames, the bright

and broad countenances, and the many yet lingering Look at proofs of strong constitution and physique. the patient and mute manner of our American

wounded

as they

sentatives from

York, and

from

all

New

such a sad collection; repreNew England, and from New

lie in

all

the States and

the West.

all

Most of them

or acquaintances here VOL. IV.-4.

and Pennsylvania

Jersey,

the cities

— indeed

— largely

from

are entirely without friends

— no familiar [49]

face,

and hardly

Specimen H)a?0 a

word of judicious sympathy

or cheer, through their

sometimes long and tedious sickness, or the pangs of aggravated wounds. This young

A

Connecticti^j^^

cut Case

man

bed 25

in

^^^^ Connecticut,

H. D. B. of

is

company

folks live at Northford, near

Though not more than twenty-one,

B.

New

His

Haven.

or thereabouts,

he has knock'd much around the world, on sea and land,

and has seen some fighting on both.

When

1

saw him he was very sick, with no appetite. He declined offers of money said he did not need anything. As was quite anxious to do something, he confess'd that he had a hankering for a good home-made rice pudding thought he could relish first

—

I

—

it

was very weak. said

B.

this

(The doctor,

time his stomach

whom

I

consulted,

nourishment would do him more good than

anything; but things ter

At

better than anything.

than usual, his

rice

the hospital, though bet-

in

revolted

pudding.

him.)

1

soon procured

A Washington

lady,

(Mrs.

O'C), hearing his wish, made the pudding hertook it up to him the next day. He self, and subsequently told me he lived upon it for three This B. is a good sample of the or four days. American Eastern young man ^the typical Yankee. took a fancy to him, and gave him a nice pipe for a keepsake. He received afterwards a box of things from home, and nothing would do but must take 1

—

I

I

£50]

Specimen Wn^B dinner with him, which it

I

did,

and a very good one

was.

same ward are two young men from Brooklyn, members of the 51st i^Boyr^" New York. had known both the two as young lads at home, so they seem near to me. One of them, J. L, lies there with an amputated arm, the stump healing pretty well. (I saw him Here

in

this

I

lying on the ground at Fredericksburg last

December, all bloody, just after the arm was taken off. He was very phlegmatic about it, munching away at a cracker in the remaining hand made no fuss.) He will recover, and thinks and talks yet of meeting Johnny Rebs.

—

The grand ASecesh

^j^^^^

Brave

soldiers are not comprised in

^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^

^^ ^^^ ^j^^ '

other.

Here

is

a sample of an

Southerner, a lad of seventeen.

ment, a few days ago,

I

-^

At the

named Gant,

Depart-

witness'd a presentation of

captured flags to the Secretary. soldier

unknown

War

Among

others a

of the 104th Ohio volunteers,

presented a rebel battle-flag, which one of the

offi-

me was

borne to the mouth of our cannon and planted there by a boy but seventeen cers stated to

years of age,

who

actually endeavor'd to stop the

muzzle of the gun with the

effort,

and the

He was kill'd in was sever'd by a shot

fence-rails.

flag-staff

from one of our men. isi}

Spectmen 2)a?6

May/63.— As Wounded from

'

write this, the

wounded

^^^^ begun to arrive from Hooker's command from bloody Chancellorsville. was I

ChanceUors-

jown among charge told

in

to come.

enough.

If

the

that

is

so

I

You ought to

first arrivals.

me

The men

the bad cases were yet

pity them, for these are

see the scene of the

bad

wounded

arriving at the landing here at the foot of Sixth Street, at night.

Two boat A

last night.

loads

little after

violent shower.

The

came about eight

it

half-past seven

rain'd a long

pale, helpless soldiers

and

had been

debark'd, and lay around on the wharf and neighbor-

hood anywhere. The rain was, probably, grateful to them; at any rate they were exposed to it. The few torches light up the spectacle. All around on the wharf, on the ground, out on side

men

are

— places — the

lying on blankets, old quilts, &c., with

bloody rags bound round heads, arms, and

The attendants

— only

are few,

and

at night

legs.

few outsiders

few hard-work'd transportation men and drivers. (The wounded are getting to be common, and people grow callous.) The men, whatever their condition, lie there, and patiently wait till Near by, the ambutheir turn comes to be taken up. lances are now arriving in clusters, and one after another is call'd to back up and take its load. Extreme cases are sent off on stretchers. The men generally make little or no ado, whatever their sufferings. A few groans that cannot be suppressed, and also

a

[52]

Specimen

lS>w^e

occasionally a scream of pain as they

the ambulance.

To-day, as

lift

a

man

into

are expected,

hundreds more and to-morrow and the next day more,

and so on

many

for

I

write,

Quite often they arrive

days.

at

the rate of looo a day.

May 72.—There was part of the A

Night

^t

Battle, over

a

,...,

V

over a

week

ago, Saturday,

Saturday night and Sunday, under Gen.

Since

Joe Hooker,

glimpse sea

Fredericks-

,

t)urg,) a little

Week

(second

Chancellorsville,

,

late battle

would

I

of— (a moment's

— of which

full details

like to give just a

look in a terrible storm at

a few suggestions are enough, and

The

impossible.)

fighting

had been very

hot during the day, and after an intermission the ter part,

was resumed

furious energy

till

3

lat-

and kept up with the morning. That

at night,

o'clock in

afternoon (Saturday) an attack sudden and strong by

Stonewall Jackson had gain'd a great advantage to the Southern army, and broken our

lines,

entering us

wedge, and leaving things in that position at dark. But Hooker at at night made a desperate like a

1

push,

1

drove the secesh forces back, restored his

original lines,

and resumed

his plans.

This night

scrimmage was very exciting, and afforded countless strange and fearful pictures. The fighting had been general both at Chancellorsville and northeast at Fredericksburg.

(We

hear of some poor fighting,

episodes, skedaddling on our part. CSS]

I

think not of

it.

specimen

3)ai26

think of the fierce bravery, the general rule.)

One

corps, the 6th, Sedgewick's, fights four dashing

and

I

bloody battles

hours, retreating in great

in thirty-six

jeopardy, losing largely but maintaining

itself,

ing with the sternest desperation under

all

fight-

circum-

Rappahannock only by the skin of its teeth, yet getting over. It lost many, many brave men, yet it took vengeance, ample venstances, getting over the

geance.

But

it

was the tug

of Saturday evening, and

through the night and Sunday morning,

make

a special note

of.

It

was

largely in

and quite a general engagement. very pleasant, at times the

and

clear,

summer

all

Nature so calm

in

The night was shining out itself,

many good

helpless, with

new

minute amid the (for there

full

the early

grass so rich, and foliage of the trees

there the battle raging, and

cannon,

moon

wanted to the woods,

I

— yet

fellows lying

accessions to them, and every

rattle

of muskets and crash of

was an

artillery

contest too,) the

red life-blood oozing out from heads or trunks or

limbs upon that green and dew-cool grass. of the

woods take

fire,

Patches

and several of the wounded,

— quite large spaces are swept over, burning the dead also — some of the men have their hair and beards singed — some, burns on their faces and hands — others holes burnt their unable to move, are consumed

in

clothing.

The

flashes of fire from the cannon, the

quick flaring flames and smoke, and the immense [54]

Specimen

2)ai?0

— the

musketry so general, the light nearly bright enough for each side to see the other— the roar

— the yelling— close quarters — we hear the secesh yells — our men cheer loudly back, especially Hooker sight — hand each side stands up to to hand brave, determin'd as demons, they often charge upon us — crashing,

tramping

men

of

if

is

in

conflicts,

it,

done worth to write newer greater poems on and still the woods on fire still many are not only scorch'd too many, unable to move, are burned to death. Then the camps of the wounded O heavens, what scene is this ? is this indeed humanity these butchers' shambles? There are several of them. There they lie, in the largest, in an open space in a thousand deeds are

—

—

—

—

—

the woods, from 200 to 300 poor fellows

and screams

— the

— the groans

odor of blood, mixed with the

fresh scent of the night, the grass, the

slaughter-house sisters

!

O

well

cannot see them

conceiv'd, these things.

both

the arm and

in

there

lie

—

is

it

trees— that

their mothers, their

— cannot conceive, and never One man

leg — both

the rejected members.

shot by a

is

are

shell,

amputated

Some have

—

—

their

—

blown off some bullets through the breast some indescribably horrid wounds in the face or head, all mutilated, sickening, torn, gouged out many some in the abdomen some mere boys legs

—

—

rebels,

badly

with the

hurt— they

rest, just

—

take their regular turns

the same as any [55]

— the surgeons

Specimen 2)a?0 use them just the same.

wounded

— such

the bloody scene

Such

is

the

camp

of the

a fragment, a reflection afar off of

— while

all

over the

large

clear,

moon comes out at times softly, quietly shining. Amid the woods, that scene of flitting souls amid

—

the crack and crash and yelling sounds palpable perfume of the gent, stifling

smoke

woods

— the

— the

im-

— and yet the pun-

radiance of the moon,

looking from heaven at intervals so placid

— the

sky

— the clear-obscure up there, those buoyant upper oceans — a few large placid stars beyond, so heavenly

coming

silently

pearing

— the

around.

And

in

and languidly

out,

and then disap-

melancholy, draperied night above, there,

upon the

roads, the fields,

and

those woods, that contest, never one more des-

perate in any age or land

— masses — no fancy

— both parties now

in force

no semi-play, but

battle,

and savage demons fighting there

fierce

— courage

and

scorn of death the rule, exceptions almost none.

What history, know — the mad, all

1

say, can ever give

determin'd tussle of the armies,

their separate large

and

little

each steep'd from crown to toe purports ?

the

many

gled,

Who know

in desperate,

mortal

the conflict, hand-to-hand

moonbeam'd

in

squads — as this —

conflicts in the dark, those

flashing

— for who can

—

shadowy-tan-

woods — the

writhing

the the cracking groups and squads — the — — the cheers the distant cannon guns and pistols and and threats and awful music of the oaths — cries,

calls

[56]

din,

Specimen Dai^e

— the orders, persuasions, encouragements — the devils rous'd human hearts — the strong shout. Charge, men, charge — the flash of the naked sword, and flame the indescribable mix

officers'

fully

in

rolling

and smoke ? And still the broken, clear and clouded and still again the moonlight pouring silheaven

—

very soft

radiant patches over

its

Who

all.

paint

the scene, the sudden partial panic of the afternoon, at

Who

dusk?

paint the irrepressible advance of

the second division of the Third corps, under Hooker himself,

up— those woods? Who

ordered

suddenly

phantoms through the moves there in the shadows, save, (and

rapid-filing

show what

—

and firm to did save,) the army's name, perhaps

it

fluid

the nation ? as there the veterans hold the

(Brave Berry

Of Unnamed

S^S'*^' Soldier

not yet

falls

him — soon he

death has mark'd

falls.)

scenes like these,

I

who

say,

writes

—

whoe'er cau write the story ? Of many a score -aye, thousands, North and South, of unwrit heroes, credible,

tions

— but

field.

— who

tells?

no music sounds,

unknown

impromptu,

heroisms, in-

first-class

despera-

No history ever — no poem sings, those bravest men of all — those

formal general's report, nor book in the library, nor column in the paper, embalms the bravdeeds.

est.

No

North or South, East or West.

known, remain, and

still

Unnamed, un-

remain, the bravest soldiers. [57]

— Specimen Dapa Our manliest

— our

boys

picture gives them.

(standing,

no doubt,

his death-shot

advances, retreats, there, haply

like a

than

one of them

hundreds, thousands,) crawls or ferny tuft,

flits

little

on receiving while, soak-

— the battle from the scene, sweeps by —

soil,

with red blood

with pain and suffering (yet

— perhaps

— the eyes glaze

in

death

the burial-squads, in truce, a

afterwards, search not the secluded spot

there, at last, the Bravest Soldier earth, unburied

June

crumbles

in

— and

mother

and unknown. 1 8th,

Thomas

s°°^hn n

less,

supposed,) the last lethargy winds

is

serpent round him

none recks

week

for

— there sheltering a

ing roots, grass and

far less,

hardy darlings; no

Likely, the typic

some bush-clump,

aside to

and

— our

—

In

one of the hospitals

company M,

Haley,

4th

—

I

find

New

York cavalry a regular Irish boy, a fine specimen of youthful physical manliness

Cases

— shot through the lungs — inevitably dying— came — has not country from Ireland to over to sleeping a single friend or acquaintance here — enlist

this

is

soundly death) I

at

this

moment, (but

it

is

the sleep of

— has a bullet-hole straight through the lung.

saw Tom when

first

brought here, three days

and did n't suppose he could live twelve hours (yet he looks well enough in the face to a

since,

—

casual observer.)

He

lies

posed above the waist,

there with his frame ex-

all [58]

naked, for coolness, a

Specimen 2)a?0 man, the tan not yet bleach'd from his cheeks and neck. It is useless to talk to him, as

fine

built

with his sad hurt, and the stimulants they give him,

and the

utter strangeness of every object, face, furni-

ture, &c., the

some

poor fellow, even

frighten'd,

shy animal.

when awake, is like Much of the time he

(Sometimes I thought he knew more than he showed.) I often come and sit or half sleeps.

sleeps,

by him

he

in perfect silence;

will

breathe for ten

minutes as softly and evenly as a young babe asleep. Poor youth, so handsome, beautiful shining hair.

with profuse

athletic,

One time

as

sat looking at

I

him while he lay asleep, he suddenly, without the least start, awaken 'd, open'd his eyes, gave me a long steady look, turning his face very slightly to

gaze easier sigh — then again.

— one

long, clear, silent look

turn'd back

and went

—a his

into

slight

doze

he knew, poor death-stricken boy, the

Little

heart of the stranger that hover'd near.

IV, H. E., Co. F,

He

monia.

Aquia creek, here.

2d N.

/.

— His disease

is

lay sick at the wretched hospital for

He was

pneu-

below

seven or eight days before brought

detail'd

from his regiment to go there

and help as nurse, but was soon taken down himan elderly, sallow-faced, rather gaunt, gray-

self.

Is

hair'd

man, a widower, with

children.

He

a great desire for good, strong green tea. lent lady, Mrs.

package;

also'

expressed

An

excel-

W., of Washington, soon sent him a The doctor a small sum of money. [59]

Specimen 2)a?0 him the tea at pleasure; it lay on the table by his side, and he used it every day. He slept a great deal; could not talk much, as he grew deaf. Occupied bed 15, ward I, Armory. (The same lady above, Mrs. W., sent the men a large package of said give

tobacco.)

G.

J.

Pennsylvania.

some also

ward I; is of company B, 7th gave him a small sum of money,

bed

lies in

1

52,

tobacco, and envelopes.

To

a

man

gave twenty-five cents; he flush'd

when

I

offered

it

— refused

in

but as

at first,

adjoining

I

the face

found he

and was very fond of having the daily papers to read, I prest it on him. He was evihad not a

cent,

dently very grateful, but said J.

little.

company F, 9th New Hampshire, ward I. Is very fond of tobacco.

T. L, of

bed 37, nish him some; also with a

in

1

little

money.

lies

fur-

Has

bad case; will surely have to lose three toes. Is a regular specimen of an old-fashion'd, rude, hearty, New England coun-

gangrene of the

feet; a pretty

tryman, impressing

me

celebrated singed cat,

with his likeness to that

who was

better

than she

look'd.

Bed pickles,

doctor,

also

3,

ward

E,

Armory, has a great hankering

something pungent. I

some

for

After consulting the

gave him a small bottle of horse-radish; apples; also a book.

are excellent.

very much.

Some

The woman-nurse (Mrs.

Wright [60]

—a

of the nurses

in this

ward

I

like

year afterwards

I

Specimen found her she

is

2)ai20

Mansion house

in

hospital, Alexandria

—

a perfect nurse.)

one bed a young man, Marcus Small, company sick with dysentery and typhoid K, 7th Maine In

—

fever

— pretty

he thinks he will die a letter for him let

him

case

critical

talk to

a

1

talk with

— looks like

home

me

—

it

him

indeed.

often I

—

write

to East Livermore, Maine

—

I

but not much, advise him

little,

very quiet — do most of the talking myself

to keep

— stay quite a while with him, as he holds on to my hand — talk to him a cheering, but slow, low and measured manner — talk about his furlough, and in

home Thomas

as soon as he

going

Lindly,

is

Pennsylvania cavalry, shot

ist

very badly through the foot suffers

able to travel.

horridly, has to

— poor

young man, he

be constantly dosed with

morphine, his face ashy and glazed, bright young eyes

—

give him a large

I

sight, tell

him

he generally

to have feels

it

handsome

apple, lay

it

in

roasted in the morning, as

easier then,

and can

eat a

little

two letters for him. Opposite, an old Quaker lady sits by the side of shot in her son, Amer Moore, 2d U. S. artillery the head two weeks since, very low, quite rational

breakfast.

I

write

—

— from

hips

down

paralyzed

— he

will surely die.

speak a very few words to him every day and wants nothing evening he answers pleasantly I

—

—

he came about his home his mother had been an invalid, and he fear'd

(he told affairs,

—

me

soon

after

[61]

Specimen 2)a?0 to let her

know

He

his condition.)

died soon after

she came.

my

In

MyPrepara-

^^^

the hospitals

visits to

j^^

simple

^^^

matter

I

of

found

it

personal

presence, and emanating ordinary cheer

Visits

and

magnetism, that

I

succeeded and

more than by medical nursing, or delicacies, During the war gifts of money, or anything else.

help'd or I

possess'd the perfection of physical health.

habit,

when

practicable,

was

My

to prepare for starting

out on one of those daily or nightly tours of from a couple to four or five hours, by fortifying myself

with previous

rest,

the bath, clean clothes, a good

meal, and as cheerful an appearance as possible.

June Ambulance Pfocessions

2^th,

Sundown,

^^j^ paragraph r cj r

I

— As

I

sit

writing

see a train of about thirty ^

huge four-horse wagons, used as ambulances, fill'd with wounded, passing up Fourteenth Street, on their way, probably, to Columbian, Carver, and Mount Pleasant hospitals. This is the way the men come in now, seldom in small numbers, but almost

always

in

these

long,

sad

processions.

Through the past winter, while our army site

lay oppo-

Fredericksburg, the like strings of ambulances

were of frequent occurrence along Seventh Street, passing slowly up from the steamboat wharf, with loads from Aquia creek. [62]

— Specimen IDw^e The

all young men, American ^"^ ^^^ ^^^^ than is generally supposed should say nine-tenths are

Wounds— the

soldiers are nearly

—

Young

I

Among

native-born. Chancellorsville

I

Indiana,

and

sorts of

wounds.

the

arrivals

from

find a large proportion of Ohio,

Illinois

men.

Some

from the explosions of has a long row of

As

of the

usual,

men

there are fearfully

artillery caissons.

all

burnt

One ward

some with ugly hurts. Yesterday was perhaps worse than usual. Amputations are

officers,

going on

— the

attendants are dressing

wounds. As you pass by, you must be on your guard where you look. saw the other day a 1

gentleman, a visitor apparently from curiosity,

in

one of the wards, stop and turn a moment to look at

an awful

pale,

and

and

in

fallen to

wound they were probing. He turn'd a moment more he had fainted away the floor.

fune The Most of

29,

— Just before sundown

this eve-

yg^y \^ygQ cavalry force went by had seen Airwi's ^ ^^"^ sight. The men evidently pjj^g ^

came a mounted band of sixteen bugles, drums and cymbals, playmade my heart jump. Then ing wild martial tunes the principal officers, then company after company, with their officers at their heads, making of course

Shows

service.

First

—

the main part of the cavalcade; then a long train of men with led horses, lots of mounted negroes with [63]

Specimen Wa^e horses—and a long string of baggage-wagons, and then a motley rear each drawn by four horses special

—

guard. It

was

a pronouncedly warlike and gay show; the

sabres clank'd, the

and strong; the

men

electric

look'd

young and healthy

tramping of so

many

on the hard road, and the gallant bearing,

horses

fine seat,

and bright faced appearance of a thousand and more handsome young American men, were so good to An hour later another troop went by, smaller see. They too in numbers, perhaps three hundred men. look'd like serviceable men, campaigners used to field and

fight.

July

5.

— This forenoon, for

more than an hour,

again long strings of cavalry, several regiments, very fine

men and

them north.

horses, four or five abreast.

Fourteenth Street, coming

in

in

Several hundred extra horses,

mares with

number of

colts, trotting along.

prisoners too.)

the cavalry regiments.

mounted,

feel

How

Our men

I

saw

town from some of the

(Appear'd to be a inspiriting

always

are generally well

good, are young, gay on the saddle,

their blankets in a

roll

clanking at their sides.

behind them, their sabres This noise and movement

and the tramp of many horses' hoofs has a curious

—

presently you upon one. The bugles play hear them afar off, deaden'd, mix'd with other noises. Then just as they had all pass'd, a string of ambulances commenc'd from the other way, moving up effect

[64]

Specimen Baija Fourteenth Street north, slowly wending along, bearing a large lot of

wounded

to the hospitals.

~

^^^ weather to-day,- upon the ^^^y ^^^' whole, is Very fine, warm, but from a smart

Battle of

Gettysburg

rain last night, fresh

which

is

enough, and no dust,

a great relief for this city.

I

saw the parade

about noon, Pennsylvania Avenue, from Fifteenth Street

down toward

There were three

the capitol.

regiments of infantry,

(I

suppose the ones doing patrol

duty here,) two or three societies of Odd Fellows, a lot of children in barouches, and a squad of policemen. (A useless imposition

upon the soldiers—they have work

enough on their backs without piling the like of this.) As went down the Avenue, saw a big flaring placard on the bulletin board of a newspaper office, " announcing '' Glorious Victory for the Union Army! Meade had fought Lee at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, yesterday and day before, and repuls'd him most I

signally, taken

3,000 prisoners, &c.

(I

afterwards

saw Meade's despatch, very modest, and

a sort of

order of the day from the President himself, quite religious, giving

thanks to the Supreme, and calling

on the people to do the same.) I

me

walk'd on to Armory hospital several bottles of blackberry

good and

strong, but innocent.

— took along with

and cherry syrup, Went through sev-

wards, announced to the soldiers the news from Meade, and gave them all a good drink of the eral of the

VOL. IV.-5.

[65]

Specimen Da^a syrups with all

ice water, quite refreshing

and serv'd

myself,

Washington for

it

Meanwhile the

around.

it

— prepar'd

bells are ringing their

sundown

peals

Fourth of July, and the usual fusilades of boys'

pistols, crackers,

I

writing this, nearly sundown, watch-

*"S ^ cavalry company, (acting Signal service,), just come in through a shower,

Camp

making

am

and guns.

their

night's

camp ready on some

vacant ground, a sort of hill,

There are the men

window. jackets.

in full

All are

broad,

view opposite

in their

my

yellow-striped

dismounted; the freed horses stand

with drooping heads and wet sides; they are to be led off presently in groups, to water.

The

little

wall-

and shelter tents spring up quickly. see the fires already blazing, and pots and kettles over them.

tents

I

Some among

the

men

are

driving in tent-poles,

wielding their axes with strong, slow blows.

I

see

great huddles of horses, bundles of hay, groups of men,

(some with unbuckled sabres yet on their sides,) a few officers, piles of wood, the flames of the fires, saddles, harness, &c. The smoke streams upward, additional men arrive and dismount some drive in stakes, and tie their horses to them; some go with buckets for water, some are chopping wood, and so on. July 6th,— k steady rain, dark and thick and

—

warm.

A

train of six-mule

wagons has

just pass'd

bearing pontoons, great square-end flatboats, and [66]

Specimen Da^a

We

the heavy planking for overlaying them.

hear

Potomac above here is flooded, and are wondering whether Lee will be able to get back across again, or whether Meade will indeed break him to pieces. The cavalry camp on the hill is a ceaseless that the

of observation for me.

field

This forenoon there

stand the horses, tether'd together, dripping, steaming,

chewing

The men emerge from their The fires are half quench'd. the camp opposite perhaps

their hay.

tents, dripping also.

July loth. fifty

—

—

Still

Some

or sixty tents.

their sabres, (pleasant to-day,)

some some

laying

reading, writing

off,

On

sleeping.

men are cleaning some brushing boots,

of the

— some

cooking,

long temporary cross-sticks back

of the tents are cavalry accoutrements

—

— blankets

and overcoats are hung out to air there are the squads of horses tether'd, feeding, continually stamping and whisking their

long

in

my

third story

— a hundred

little

tails

to keep off

window and

things going on

flies.

I

sit

look at the scene

— peculiar objects

connected with the camp that could not be described,

any one of them ing and coloring

Soidi^^''''^

justly, in

without

much minute draw-

words.

This afternoon, July 22d, I have spent a long time with Oscar F. Wilber, company G,

154th

New

York, low with chronic

He asked me and a bad wound also. to read him a chapter in the New Testament. diarrhoea,

I

C67J

Specimen IDa^B complied, and ask'd him what

''Make your

own

choice."

He said,

I

should read.

I

open'd at the close of

books of the evangelists, and read the chapters describing the latter hours of Christ, and the scenes at the crucifixion. The poor, wasted one of the

first

young man

how

also,

for

ask'd

me

to read the following chapter

Christ rose again.

Oscar was

feeble.

It

I

pleased him very much,

yet the tears were in his eyes.

enjoy 'd religion.

I

''

said,

way you mean, and

the

thing."

He

said,

talk'd of death,

'' It

He

ask'd

my

Perhaps not,

maybe,

yet,

is

read very slowly,

my

is

it

me

fear

I

dear, in

the same

chief reliance."

and said he did not

if

it.

I

He said,

Why, Oscar, don't you think you will get well ?" He said, '' may, but it is not probable." He spoke calmly of his condition. The wound was very bad, *'

I

Then the diarrhoea had prostrated him, and felt that he was even then the same as dying. He behaved very manly and affectionate. The kiss gave him as was about leaving he return'd fourfold. He gave me his mother's address, Mrs. it

discharg'd much. I

I

I

Sally D. Wilber, Alleghany post-office, Cattaraugus

had several such interviews with He died a few days after the one just described.

County, N. Y. him.

I

.

— To-night,

was trying to keep cool, sitting by a wounded soldier in Armory-square, was attracted by some

August 8th, Home-Made

as

I

I

pleasant singing

in

an adjoining ward. [68]

As

my soldier

Specimen Dai^e was

him, and entering the ward where the music was, I walk'd half-way down and took asleep,

I

left

young Brooklyn friend, S. R., the hand at Chancellorsville, and

a seat by the cot of a

badly

who

wounded

in

has suffer'd much, but at that

moment

in

the

evening was wide awake and comparatively easy. He had turn'd over on his left side to get a better

view of the

singers, but the mosquito-curtains of the

adjoining cots obstructed the sight.

stept round

I

and loop'd them all up, so that he had a clear show, and then sat down again by him, and look'd and listen'd.

The

principal singer

was

a

young

lady-

nurse of one of the wards, accompanying on a melodeon, and join'd by the lady-nurses of other wards.

They

making a charming group, with their handsome, healthy faces, and standing up a little behind them were some ten or fifteen of the convalescent soldiers, young men, nurses, &c., with books in their hands, singing. Of course it was not such a sat there,

performance as the great soloists at the opera house take a hand receiv'd as

much

sitting there, as

in,

yet

I

am

New

York

not sure but

I

pleasure under the circumstances, I

have had from the best

Italian

compositions, express'd by world-famous performers.

The men

their cots, rise

down the hospital, wounded — some never

lying up and

(some badly

in

to

thence,) the cots themselves, with their drapery

of white curtains, and the

shadows down the lower

and upper parts of the ward; then the [69]

silence of the

Specimen Baija men, and the attitudes they took sight to look

whitewash'd wooden back again.

it all

voices up to the high,

and pleasantly the roof They sang very well, mostly

roof,

quaint old songs and declamatory tunes.

My

hymns, to

fitting

Here, for instance:

days are gliding swiftly by, and

Would

And

around upon again and again.

there sweetly rose those

sent

— the whole was a

not detain them as they

I

a pilgrim stranger,

fly,

those hours of

toil

and

danger;

For O we stand on Jordan's strand, our friends are passing over, And just before, the shining shore we may almost discover.

my

We'll gird our loins

brethren dear, our distant

home

dis-

cerning,

Our absent Lord has For

O we

left

us word,

let

every lamp be burning.

stand on Jordan's strand, our friends are passing

over,

And

just before, the shining shore

we may

almost discover.

August 1 2th.— see the President almost every day, as happen to live where he I

Lincoln

I

passes to or from his lodgings out of

town.

He never

sleeps at the

White House during

the hot season, but has quarters at a healthy location

some three miles north of the city, the Soldiers' Home, a United States military establishment. saw him this morning about 8| coming in to business, He always riding on Vermont Avenue, near L Street. has a company of twenty-five or thirt>^ cavalry, with I

[70]

Specimen 2)a?0 drawn and held upright over their shoulders. They say this guard was against his personal wish, sabres

but he

let his

makes no

counselors have their way.

great

show

The

party

uniform or horses.

Mr.

in

Lincoln on the saddle generally rides a good-sized,

easy-going gray horse,

somewhat

rusty and

is

dress'd in

dusty,

plain

black,

wears a black

stiff

and looks about as ordinary in attire, &c., as the commonest man. A lieutenant, with yellow straps, rides at his left, and following behind, two by two, hat,

come the They are

cavalry men, in their yellow-striped jackets. generally going at a slow trot, as that

is

The

the pace set them by the one they wait upon.

sabres and accoutrements clank, and the entirely

unornamental cortege as

it

towards Lafayette

trots

Square arouses no sensation, only some

see very plainly Abra-

stranger stops and gazes.

I

ham Lincoln's dark brown

face,

the eyes, always to

lines,

sadness

in

the expression.

curious

me

We

with the deep-cut with a deep latent

have got so that

we

exchange bows, and very cordial ones. Sometimes the President goes and comes in an open barouche. The cavalry always accompany him, with drawn sabres.

Often

and sometimes early

some

I

notice as he goes out evenings in

the morning,

— he turns off and halts

when he

at the large

see from

my window

there.

If in

he does not [71]

returns

and hand-

residence of the Secretary of War, on

and holds conference

K

Street,

his barouche, alight,

—

but

I

can

sits in

Specimen Šai?^ and Mr. Stanton comes out to attend him. Sometimes one of his sons, a boy of ten or twelve, accompanies him, riding at his right on a his vehicle,

pony.

summer

Earlier in the

I

saw the

occasionally

President and his wife, toward the latter part of the afternoon, out in a barouche, on

through the

Mrs. Lincoln

city.

a pleasure ride

was

com-

The equipage

plete black, with a long crape veil.

two

dress'd in

is

and they nothing extra. They pass'd me once very close, and saw the President in the face fully, as they were

of the plainest kind, only

horses,

1

moving slowly, and

look,

his

though abstracted,

happen'd to be directed steadily

bow'd and

subtle

There

is

portrait

I

None

to.

has caught the

or pictures

and

have alluded

I

He

eye.

smiled, but far beneath his smile

well the expression artists

my

in

deep,

noticed of the

though

expression of this man's face.

indirect

something painters of.

else there.

two

One

of the great

or three centuries ago

is

needed.

There has

lately

from heat;

Tem^

we have had

eleven days. brella

and a

fan.

I

been much suffering here

I

it

go around with an um-

saw two

cases of sun-stroke yes-

terday, one in Pennsylvania Avenue,

Seventh

some

Street.

The City

horses every day.

a livelier August, and

is

upon us now

railroad

and another

company

Yet Washington probably putting [72]

is

in

loses

having

in a

more

Specimen Da^e energetic and satisfactory

during

its

existence.

more population

electricity,

ness,

summer, than ever before There is probably more human to

make

more

busi-

before.

The

it,

more light-heartedness, than ever

armies that swiftly circumambiated from Fredericks-

burg— march'd,

struggled,

mighty clinch and hurl

cumambiated

at

had out

fought,

Gettysburg

again, return'd to their

their

— wheel'd,

cir-

ways, touching

us not, either at their going or coming.

And Wash-

ington feels that she has pass'd the worst; perhaps feels that

she

is

henceforth mistress.

sits

with her surrounding

and

is

hills

So here she

spotted with guns,

conscious of a character and identity different

from what

it

was

five or six short

weeks

ago, and

very considerably pleasanter and prouder.

Soldiers, soldiers, soldiers, Soldiers

and Talks

you meet every-

y/here about the city, often superb-look-

ing men, though invalids dress'd in uniforms, and carrying canes or crutches.

1

worn often

have talks with them, occasionally quite long and interesting. One, for instance, will have been all through the peninsula under McClellan to

me

— narrates

the fights, the marches, the strange, quick

changes of that eventful campaign, and gives glimpses of many things untold in any official reports or books These, indeed, are the things that are genuine and precious. The man was there, has been ' out two years, has been through a dozen fights, the or journals.

[73]

Specimen superfluous flesh of talking

and he gives 1

find

me

is

long worked off him,

but the hard meat and sinew.

little

refreshing,

it

5)ai?0

these hardy, bright, intuitive,

American young men, (experienc'd soldiers with their youth.)

The

vocal play and significance

Then

one more than books.

man who

majestic about a tles,

especially

he

if

is

all

moves

there hangs something

has borne his part

very quiet regarding

in bat-

it

when

unbosom. I am continually lost at the absence of blowing and blowers among these old-young American militaires. have found some man or other who has been in every battle since the

you

desire

him

to

I

war began, and have

with them about each

talk'd

many

of

the engagements on the rivers and harbors too.

I

one find

every part of the United States, and

in

men

here from every State in the Union, with-

out exception.

(There are more Southerners, es-

pecially border State is

in

generally supposed."^)

one can get a tically

is,

character,

am

men,

fair

I

idea of

the Union

army than

now doubt whether what

this

war

prac-

what genuine America is, and her without some such experience as this or

I

having.

* Mr. Garfield (In the House of Representatives, April /^, '79. J " Do gentlemen know that Oeaving out all the border States) there were fifty regiments and seven companies of white men in our army fighting for the Union from the States that went into rebellion ? Do they know that from the single State of Kentucky

more Union

soldiers fought

under our flag than Napoleon took into the battle of

more than Wellington took with all the allied armies against Napoleon ? Do they remember that 186,000 color'd men fought under our flag against the rebellion and for the Union, and that of that number 90,000 were from the States which went into rebellion ? " Waterloo

?

[74]

Specimen 3)a^0 Another characteristic scene of that dark

^"^ ^'^^^y ^^^5> ^^^^ "^*^^ ^f ^y ^*s*t to Armory- square hospital, one hot but Officer pleasant summer day. In ward H we approach the cot of a young lieutenant of one of the Wisconsin regiments. Tread the bare board floor lightly here, for the pain and panting of death are in

wlfcLir

this cot.

I

saw the

lieutenant

when he was

first

brought here from Chancellorsville, and have been

with him occasionally from day to day and night to night.

night

He had been getting along pretty well till before last, when a sudden hemorrhage that

could not be stopt came upon him, and to-day continues at intervals.

still

by the

Notice that water-pail

side of the bed, with a quantity of blood

bloody pieces of muslin, nearly

The poor young man

story.

for breath, his great

An

him

He

the

till

attendant last;

is

full;

and

that tells the

struggling painfully

dark eyes with a glaze already

upon them, and the choking throat.

it

yet

sits

faint

but audible

by him, and

little

will

in his

not leave

or nothing can be done.

hour or two, without the presMeantime the ordinary chat and

will die here in an

ence of kith or kin.

business of the ward a ently.

Some

little

way off goes

on

indiffer-

of the inmates are laughing and joking,

others are playing checkers or cards, others are reading, &c.

have noticed through most of the hospitals that as long as there is any chance for a man, no matter I

[753

— specimen 2)a?6

how bad

he

may

be, the surgeon

and nurses work

hard, sometimes with curious tenacity, for his

life,

doing everything, and keeping somebody by him to execute the doctor's orders, and minister to him every minute night and day. See that screen there. As you advance through the dusk of early candle-light,

and

a nurse will step forth on tip-toe,

imperiously forbid you to to

come near

Some

all.

at this

moment

soldier's

life is

flickering

retire.

Per-

the exhausted frame has just

fallen into a light sleep that a step

must

but

noise, or perhaps

suspended between recovery and death.

there,

haps

at

make any

silently

The neighboring

in their stocking feet.

I

You must move

might shake.

patients

have been several times

struck with such mark'd efforts— everything bent to

save a

when

life

that grip

or chance at If it is

is

all,

once firmly

fix'd,

leaving no hope

the surgeon abandons the patient.

a case where stimulus

is

any

relief,

gives milk-punch or brandy, or whatever

ad

libitum.

There

is

no fuss made.

sentimentalism or whining have

death-bed

in hospital or

impassive indifference. efforts

can avail;

labors. at

least

But

from the very grip of the destroyer.

it is

on the All

is

useless to

I

the nurse

is

wanted,

Not a

bit of

seen about a single field,

over,

but generally as far as

any

expend emotions or

While there is a prospect they strive hard most surgeons do; but death certain and

evident, they yield the field.

[76]

Specimen Bai^a Aug,, Sept,, and Oct,, '63,-1 Hospitals

of going to

am

in

the

and to Fairfax sem Ensemble inary, Alexandria, and over Long Bridge to the great Convalescent camp. The journals publish

j^^^j^

a regular directory of

all,

them—a

long

As a

list.

specimen of almost any one of the larger of these hospitals, fancy to yourself a space of three to

acres of ground, on

wooden

very large

which

twenty

are group'd ten or twelve

barracks, with, perhaps, a dozen

and sometimes more than that number, small buildings, capable altogether of accommodating from five hundred to a thousand or fifteen hundred persons. Sometimes these wooden barracks or or twenty,

wards, each of them perhaps from a hundred to a

hundred and

fifty feet long,

row, evenly fronting the

are rang'd in a straight

street;

others are plann'd

so as to form an immense V; and others again are

ranged around a hollow square.

They make

alto-

gether a huge cluster, with the additional tents, extra

wards

for

contagious diseases, guard-houses, sutler's

stores, chaplain's

house;

in

the middle will probably

be an edifice devoted to the offices of the surgeon

in

charge and the ward surgeons, principal attaches,

The wards are either letter'd alphabetiward G, ward K, or else numerically, i, 2, 5, Each has its ward surgeon and corps of nurses.

clerks, &c. cally,

&c.

Of course,

there

is,

in

the aggregate, quite a muster

of employes, and over

Here

in

all

the surgeon in charge.

Washington, when these army hospitals are

Specimen 2)a?0 all fiird,

have been already several times,)

(as they

they contain a population more numerous

in itself

than the whole of the Washington of ten or

Within sight of the

years ago.

capitol, as

I

fifteen

write, are

some thirty or forty such collections, at times holding from

to seventy thousand

fifty

men.

Looking from

any eminence and studying the topography in my rambles, use them as landmarks. Through the rich August verdure of the trees, see that white group of I

buildings off yonder in the outskirts; then another cluster half a mile to the left of the first; then another

a mile to the right, and another a mile beyond, and still

another between us and the

Indeed,

first.

we

any direction but these clusters That little are dotting the landscape and environs. town, as you might suppose it, off there on the brow of a hill, is indeed a town, but of wounds, sickness, and death. It is Finley hospital, northeast of the city, on Kendall green, as it used to be call'd. That other can hardly look

is I

Campbell

in

hospital.

Both are large establishments.

have known these two alone to have from two thou-

sand to twenty-five hundred inmates. is

Carver hospital, larger

city regularly laid out, tries.

still,

Then

a wall'd and military

and guarded by squads of sen-

Again, off east, Lincoln hospital, a

one; and half a mile further

Emory

we

still

hospital.

sweeping the eye around down the Alexandria,

river

camp

stands, with [78]

larger Still

toward

see, to the right, the locality

the Convalescent

there

its five,

where eight

Specimen 2)a^0 or sometimes ten thousand inmates.

Even

all

these

The Harewood, Mount Pleasant, Armory-square, Judiciary hospitals, are some of the are but a portion.

and

rest,

all

large collections.

October 20th, hospital at

Ni^ht^*

Ramble

10 o'clock,

some

closely confined,)

I

The

I

strong,

The

was sweet, very

night

it

of a transparent

walked up Pennsylvania Avenue,

and then to Seventh

and a long while around

Street,

Somehow

the Patent-office.

five hours, pretty

wander'd a long time

slightly golden, the space near

blue-gray tinge.

had been on

voluptuous half- moon,

a

cool,

sufficiently

after leaving the (I

self-imposed duty

around Washington. clear,

—To-night,

it

look'd rebukefully

the delicate moonlight.

majestic, there in

sky, the planets, the constellations

so calm, so expressively

those hospital scenes.

moist

moon

set,

Every Spiritual

Characters

among Soldiers

tne

I

silent,

all

so bright,

so soothing, after

wander'd to and

fro

till

the

long after midnight.

now and

there are beings

then, in hospital or camp, I

meet

— specimens of un-

^Qj-i^jij^ess,' disinterestedness,

purity and heroism

— perhaps

and animal

some un-

conscious Indianian, or from Ohio or Ten-

nessee—on whose

birth

the calmness of heaven

seems to have descended, and whose gradual growing up, whatever the circumstances of work-life or [79]

Specimen 2)a^ change, or hardship, or small or no education that

attended

it,

the

power of a strange

spiritual

sweet-

and inward health, have also attended. Something veil'd and abstracted is often a part of the manners of these beings. have met them, say, not seldom in the army, in camp, and in the hospiThe Western regiments contain many of them. tals. They are often young men, obeying the events and occasions about them, marching, soldiering, fighting, foraging, cooking, working on farms or at some trade before the war— unaware of their own nature, (as to ness, fibre

I

that,

who

aware of

is

his

1

own

nature ?) their

com-

panions only understanding that they are different

more silent, ''something odd about them," and apt to go off" and meditate and muse in from the

rest,

solitude.

Among

other sights are

immense droves

of cattle with their drivers, passing through ^^'*^**

Wariiington

the streets of the

have a

way

culiar caU,

musical, prolonged,

city.

Some

of the

men

of leading the cattle by a pea wild, pensive hoot,

indescribable,

quite

sounding some-

thing between the cooing of a pigeon and the hoot of an owl.

1

like to

stand and look at the sight of

—

a little way off— (as one of these immense droves the dust is great.) There are always men on horseback, cracking their whips and shouting— the cattle

low

— some obstinate ox or steer attempts to escape

Specimen ®a?9

— then

a lively

scene— the mounted men, always

and on good horses, dash after the recusant, and wheel and turn a dozen mounted

excellent riders

—

drovers, their great slouch d, broad-brim'd hats, very

— another dozen on cover'd with dust — long goads

— everybody their hands — an immense drove of perhaps looo cattle — the shouting, picturesque

foot

in

hooting,

movement, &c.

To add

p^*

to other troubles,

sion of this great

amid the

army of sick,

it is

confii-

almost

impossible for a stranger to find any friend or relative, unless he has the patient's specific address

to start upon.

Besides the directory printed in the

newspapers here, there are one or two general

direc-

tories of the hospitals kept at provost's head-quarters,

but they are nothing

like

complete: they are never

up to date, and. as things are, with the daily streams of coming and going and changing, cannot be. I have known cases, for instance, such as a former coming here from northern New York to find a wounded brother, faithfully hunting round for a week, and then compeird to leave and go home without getting any trace of him. When he got home he found a letter

Down

from the brother giving the right address.

at

the Front

Va., /t*. '^.

pretty well

down toward

front S.,

who

is

— Here

Culpepper,

now

I

am

the extreme

Three or four days ago General

in chief

command,

(I

believe

Meade

Specimen 2)a?0 is

absent, sick,)

from camp as

if

moved

a strong force

The

little

They went to been some manoeuver-

intending business.

the Rapidan; there has since ing and a

fighting, but nothing of consequence.

telegraphic accounts given

last,

make

southward

entirely too

much

Monday morning

of

it,

I

should say.

What General S. intended we here know not, but we trust in that competent commander. We were somewhat excited, (but not so very much either,) on Sunday, during the day and

were

night, as orders

sent out to pack up and harness, and be ready to

evacuate, to

fall

back towards Washington.

was very sleepy and went

me

to bed.

But

I

Some tremen-

went forth and found it was from the men above mention'd, who were returning. talk'd with some of found them full of gayety, enthe men; as usual dous shouts arousing

during the night,

I

I

I

durance, and

many

fine little

outshows, the signs of

the most excellent good manliness of the world.

It

was a curious sight to see those shadowy columns stood unobserved in moving through the night. the darkness and watch 'd them long. The mud was very deep. The men had their usual burdens, overI

coats,

knapsacks, guns and blankets.

along they

filed

by me, with

often a laugh, a song,

a cheerful word, but never once a

have been odd, but

I

Along and

murmur.

It

may

never before so realized the

majesty and reality of the American people en masse. It fell

upon me

like a great [82]

awe.

The strong ranks

Specimen S)a?0

moved

They had march'd

neither fast nor slow.

seven or eight miles already through the slipping unctuous mud. The brave First corps stopt here.

The

equally brave Third corps

moved on

to

Brandy

The famous Brooklyn 14th are here, guardYou see their red legs actively moving the town. ing everywhere. Then they have a theatre of their own here. They give musical performances, nearly everything done capitally. Of course the audience is a jam. It is good sport to attend one of these enstation.

tertainments of the 14th.

I

like to

look around at

the soldiers, and the general collection curtain,

more than the scene on the

One Paying the

in front

stage.

of the things to note here

^j-j-jy^j

of the

now is

the

^f ^^^ paymaster with his strong

box, and the payment of bounties to vet-

Major H.

erans re-enlisting.

is

here to-day, with

a small mountain of greenbacks, rejoicing the hearts In the

of the 2d division of the First corps. of a rickety shanty, behind a

little

midst

table, sit

the

major and clerk Eldridge, with the rolls before them,

and much moneys.

A

re-enlisted

man

gets in cash

about $200 down, (and heavy instalments following,

one after another.) The show of the men crowding around is quite exhilThey feel elated, arating; like to stand and look. their pockets full, and the ensuing furlough, the visit home. It is a scene of sparkling eyes and flush'd

as the

pay-days

arrive,

I

[83]

specimen Da^a cheeks.

The

many gloomy and

soldier has

harsh

makes up for some of them. Major H. is order'd to pay first all the re-enlisted men of the First corps their bounties and back pay, and then the rest. You hear the peculiar sound of the rustling of the new and crisp greenbacks by the hour, through the nimble fingers of the major and experiences, and this

my

friend clerk E.

About the excitement of Sunday, and the oi'ders to

Ch^^es

be ready to

start,

I

have heard

came from some cautious minor commander, and that the high principalities knew not and thought not of any such move; which is likely. The rumor and fear here intimated a long circuit by Lee, and flank attack on our right. But cast my eyes at the mud, which was then at its deepest and palmiest conStill it is dition, and retired composedly to rest. about time for Culpepper to have a change. Auetc.

'

since that the said orders

I

thorities

have chased each other here

a stormy sky.

Before the

the rendezvous and sion troops.

who

I

am

has witness'd

camp

first

Bull

like

Run

clouds this

in

was

of instruction of the seces-

stopping at the house of a lady all

the eventful changes of the

war, along this route of contending armies.

She is a and lives

widow, with a family of young children, here with her sister in a large handsome house. number of army officers board with them. [84]

A

Specimen Šaija

,^.

and trodden with wherever move across

Dilapidated, fenceless,'

.

,

Virginia

war her surface,

I

,,....

as Virginia

,

is,

I

find myself rous'd to

surprise

and

What capacity for products, improvehuman life, nourishment and expansion.

admiration.

ments,

Everywhere that have been in the Old Dominion (the subtle mockery of that title now!), such thoughts have fill'd me. The soil is yet far above the average of any of the Northern States. And how I

of breadth

full

the

scenery,

mountains,

everywhere

yet prodigal

in forest

all

the

fruits,

everywhere

convenient

distant

Even woods, and surely eligible for orchards, and flowers. The skies and rivers!

atmosphere most luscious, as feel certain, from more than a year's residence in the State, and movements hither and yon. should say very healthy, I

I

Then

as a general thing.

a rich and elastic quality,

by night and by day. The sun rejoices strength, dazzling and burning, and yet, never unpleasantly weakening.

It

it.

The

8,)

I

moon

the outlined old

color,

it

air

so

before.

cent possible.

sulky

shadow

It

me

first

clear

such

clear,

seem'd to

new moon

saw the

I

me,

not the pant-

nights are often unsurpassable.

evening (Feb.

sky and

to

The north tem-

ing tropical heat, but invigorates.

pers

is

his

in

of the

along

new moon,

with

transparent

had never

Last

it;

the

hues of

really seen the

was the thinnest cut creshung delicate just above the It

of the

Blue Mountains. [85]

Ah,

if

it

Specimen H)a?0 might prove an omen and good prophecy

unhappy

State I

am back

I

regular

o"^T^

fellows, long-suffering

Of

and nightly rounds.

daily

ward here and there

weak and

my

again in Washington, on

many

course there are ting a

for this

Dot-

specialties.

are always cases of poor

under obstinate wounds, or

dishearten'd from typhoid fever, or the

mark'd cases, needing special and sympathetic

like;

nourishment.

These

I

them

or silently cheer

hugely (and so do

down and

sit

up.

either talk to,

They always

Each case has

I).

its

like

it

peculiari-

have learnt and needs some new adaptation. learnt a good deal of hospital to thus conform wisdom. Some of the poor young chaps, away from home for the first time in their lives, hunger ties,

I

—

and

thirst for affection; this is

sometimes the only

thing that will reach their condition.

The men

like

and something to write in. I have given them cheap pocket-diaries, and almanacs for to have a pencil,

1864,

interleaved with blank paper.

generally

have

some

papers — they

old

pictorial

For reading

magazines

I

or

always acceptable.

Also

the morning or evening papers of the day.

The

story

are

do not give, but lend to read through the wards, and then take them to others, and so on; best books

I

they are very punctual about returning the books. In these

wards, or on the

field,

[86]

as

I

thus continue to

Specimen Daiga have come to adapt myself to each emergency, after its kind or call, however trivial, however solemn, every one justified and made real under its circumstances not only visits and cheer-

go round,

I

ing talk and

patient

— but

is

only washing and

gifts

little

wounds

dressing

— — not

have some cases where the unwilling any one should do this but me) (I

passages from the Bible, expounding them,

prayer at the bedside, explanations of doctrine, &c. (I

think

1

see

my

friends smiling at this confession,

was never more in earnest in my life.) In camp and everywhere, was in the habit of reading or giving recitations to the men. They were very fond but

I

I

of

pieces.

We

group by ourselves,

after

and liked declamatory

it,

would gather

in a

large

poetical

supper, and spend the time in such readings, or in talking,

the

and occasionally by an amusing game

game

Army

of twenty questions.

It is

A New Or-

ganization Fit for

institutes,

plain to

me

out of the events of the

^^^^ North and South, and out of

practice,

rules

and

(adopted from Europe from the feudal with, of course, the ''modern improve-

lowed, and believ'd in all

con-

organization,

ments," largely from the French), though not at

all

siderations, that the current military theQj.y^

menca

called

by the

tacitly fol-

officers generally, are

consonant with the United States, nor our

people, nor our days.

What es;]

it

will be

I

know not-

Speclnten Ba^a but

know that as entire an

I

military system,

abnegation of the present

and the naval

and a building up

too,

from radically different root-bases and centres appro-

must eventually result, as that our political system has resulted and become establish'd, different from feudal Europe, and built up on itself priate to us,

from

original, perennial,

have undoubtedly military

and

reliable

the United States the greatest

— an

exhaustless,

rank and

file

—

in

brave

intelligent,

the world, any land,

The problem

is

to organize this

the manner fully appropriate to

it,

to the principles

perhaps in

power

in

We

democratic premises.

lands.

all

of the republic, and to get the best service out of

seen and reviewed,

In the present struggle, as already

probably three fourths of the losses, men,

have been sheer

if

y^^^

I

^^j.

\Yi^i^Y\ce,

reader dear

realities

(many, many happen'd,) as the one

wounded May

fierce tussles of the

man — a

20.

of such cases,

am now

splendid

5,

in

going

one of those

Wilderness — died

He was

May

a small and beardless

soldier —

American, of his age.

in

fact

He had

21

—

young

almost an ideal

serv'd nearly three

and would have been entitled to his discharge He was in Hancock's corps. The a few days.

years, in

I

— the

Stewart C. Glover, company E, 5th

Wisconsin, was

aged about

&c.,

could ever convey to another

tender and terrible

to mention.

lives,

superfluity, extravagance, waste.

wonder

I

— ^^

Deat a Hero

it.

[88]

Specimen fighting

had about ceas'd

2)ai20

for the day,

and the general

commanding the brigade rode by and unteers to bring in the wounded.

among

the

in

Glover responded

— went out gayly — but while

first

act of bearing in a

was shot

call'd for vol-

wounded

in

sergeant to our

the

lines,

the knee by a rebel sharpshooter; conse-

He had

quence, amputation and death.

resided with

John Glover, an aged and feeble man, Batavia, Genesee County, N. Y., but was at school

his father,

Wisconsin,

war broke

after the

listed—soon took to little

officers

diary, like so

many

was very and comrades. He it,

On

of the soldiers.

the day of his death he wrote the following in I

must

to die.

On

To-day the doctor says

me

— ah, so young

in

and there en-

soldier-life, liked

manly, was belov'd by kept a

out,

in

die

— all

is

it:

over with

another blank leaf he

Dear brother Thomas, I have

pencill'd to his brother:

been brave but wicked — pray for me.

It is

Hospital

j^Qt ^p(j

case,

where his

I

sit is

name

is

summer,

oppressive, and very silent through

^he Ward.

inddents

afternoon, middle of

Sunday

now

I

am

taking care of a

lying in a half lethargy.

critical

Near

a suffering rebel, from the 8th Louisiana;

Irving.

He has been

here a long time,

badly wounded, and lately had his leg amputated; it Right opposite me is a sick is not doing very well. soldier-boy, laid

looking

much

down with

his clothes on, sleeping,

wasted, his pallid face on his arm. [89]

I

Specimen 2)a?0 by the yellow trimming on

see

cavalry boy. that he

is

I

his jacket that

step softly over and find

named William Cone,

by

he

is

a

his card

of the ist Maine

Cavalry, and his folks live in Skowhegan.

Cream

of June, ice

—

Treat, One hot day toward the middle gave the inmates of Carver hospital a general cream treat, purchasing a large quantity, and, un-

Ice

I

der convoy of the doctor or head nurse, going around personally through the wards to see to

An Incident, — In

its

a rebel soldier, of large size, evidently a

was

young man,

wounded top of the head, so that the partially exuded. He lived three days, lying back on the spot where he first dropt. He

mortally

brains

on

distribution.

one of the fights before Atlanta,

his

dug with his heel in the ground during that time a hole big enough to put in a couple of ordinary knapsacks. He just lay there in the open air, and with little

intermission kept his heel going night and day.

Some

of our soldiers then

he died

in a

moved him to a house, but

few minutes.

Another.— After the battles at Columbia, Tennessee, where we repulsed about a score of vehement

many wounded on the ground, mostly within our range. Whenever any of these wounded attempted to move away by any means, generally by crawling off, our men without exception brought them down by a bullet. rebel charges, they left a great

They

let

none crawl away, no matter what

dition. [90]

his con-

Specimen As

A

Yankee

I

turn'd off the

Avenue one

into Thirteenth Street, a sol^^^ evening "^ ^

.

dier

,

with knapsack and overcoat stood

the corner inquiring his way. part of the road in

together.

We

soon

my

fell

I

I

judged

in

at

found he wanted to

we

walk'd on

into conversation.

He was

direction, so

small and not very young, and a tough as

cool Octo'

Soldier

go

2)ai?0

the evening

light,

little

fellow,

catching glimpses

by the lamps we pass'd. His answers were short, but he belong'd His name was Charles Carroll clear. to one of the Massachusetts regiments, and was born ;

His parents were living, but were

near Lynn.

in or

very old.

There were four sons, and

all

had

enlisted.

Two

had died of starvation and misery in the prison at Andersonville, and one had been kill'd in the West. He only was left. He was now going home, and by

the

way he

talk'd

He made

out.

inferred that his

I

time was nearly

great calculations on being with his

parents to comfort

them the

rest of their days.

Michael Stansbury, 48 years of age, a sea^^^^^ Pnsoners South

faring o

man, a Southerner by ^

birth

;

and t

ing, formerly captain of

U.

S.

raisi

•

light-ship

Long Shoal, station'd at Long Shoal Point, though a Southerner, a firm Union Pamlico Sound man was captur'd Feb. 17, 1863, and has been

—

—

nearly

two years

one time order'd

in

the Confederate prisons;

releas'd

was

at

by Governor Vance, but a

rebel officer re-arrested him; then sent C91]

on to Rich-

;

Specimen Daije

mond was

sent

— but instead of being exchanged

exchange

for

down

(as a

Southern

citizen,

not a soldier,)

C, where he remained until lately, when he escap'd among the exchang'd by assuming the name of a dead soldier, and coming up via Wilto Salisbury, N.

mington with the in

rest.

Was

about sixteen months

Subsequent to October,

Salisbury.

there

'64,

were about 11,000 Union prisoners in the stockade about 100 of them Southern Unionists, 200 U. S. deserters. During the past winter 500 of the prisoners, to 1

save their

lives,

joined the Confederacy, on condition

of being assign 'd merely to guard

the

1

1

were

,000 not

more than 2500 came out

pitiable, helpless

be buried

would be about

wretches

— the

There were often

condition to travel. ies to

duty.

in

the morning

The

40.

;

;

Out

of

500 of these

were in a 60 dead bod-

rest

the daily average

regular food

was

a meal of

and husk ground together, and sometimes once a week a ration of sorghum molasses. A diminutive ration of meat might possibly come once corn, the cob

a month, not oftener.

11,000 men, there

enough

was

A

for 2000.

In

the stockade, containing

a partial

show

large proportion of the

lived in holes in the ground, in the ness.

and

Some

froze to death, others

feet frozen.

The

of tents, not

rebel guards

men

utmost wretched-

had

their

hands

would occasionally,

and on the least pretence, fire into the prison from mere demonism and wantonness. All the horrors that can be

named,

starvation, lassitude, filth, vermin, [9a]

Specimen

2)ai?0

despair, swift loss of self-respect, idiocy, insanity,

and frequent murder, were there. Stansbury has a wife and child living in Newbern has written to them from here— is in the U. S. lighthouse employ still (had been home to Newbern to see his family, and on his return to the ship was captured in Has seen men brought there to Salisbury his boat). as hearty as you ever see in your life in a few weeks completely dead gone, much of it from thinking on their condition hope all gone. Has himself a hard,

—

—

—

—

sad, strangely deaden'd kind of look, as of for years in the cold

nature had no

room

and dark, where to exercise

his

one

chill'd

good manly

itself.

own

Oct, 24,—S2iw a large squad of our Deserters

deserters (over 300) surrounded with a

cordon of arm'd guards, marching along Pennsylvania

Avenue.

The most motley

sorts of rig,

all

collection

sorts of hats

and

I

caps,

ever saw,

many

all

fine-

some of them shamefaced, some sickly, most of them dirty, shirts very dirty and long worn, &c. They tramp'd along without saw order, a huge huddling mass, not in ranks. some of the spectators laughing, but felt like anylooking

young

fellows,

I

I

These deserters are far more numerous than would be thought. Almost every day see squads of them, sometimes two or three at

thing else but laughing.

I

a time, with a small guard; sometimes ten or twelve, under a larger one. (I hear that desertions from the [93]

Specimen Wa^e army now month. ton

of

is

the field have often averaged 10,000 a

in

One

of the

commonest

Washing-

sights in

a squad of deserters.)

wS^

movements of our troops

In

one of the

in

the valley, (near Upperville,

late

I

think,)

mounted guerillas attack'd a train of wounded, and the guard of cavalry convoying them. The ambulances contained about 60 wounded, quite a number of them officers of rank. The rebels were in strength, and ^ Strong force of Moseby's

HeU-Scenes

the capture of the train and short snap

was

its partial

effectually accomplish'd.

guard

No

after

a

sooner

had our men surrendered, the rebels instantly commenced robbing the train and murdering their prisoners, even the

sample of

it,

wounded.

ten minutes

officers in the

Here

after.

is

the scene, or a

Among the wounded

ambulances were one, a lieutenant of

and another of higher rank. These two were dragged out on the ground on their backs, and were now surrounded by the guerillas, a demoniac regulars,

crowd, each member of which was stabbing them different parts of their bodies.

One

in

of the officers had

ground by bayonets stuck through them and thrust into the ground. These two officers, as afterwards found on examination, had receiv'd about twenty such thrusts, some of them through the mouth, face, &c. The wounded had all his feet pinn'd firmly to the

been dragg'd (to give a better chance also [941

for plun-

Specimen

2)ai?0

wagons; some had been effectually dispatch'd, and their bodies were lying there lifeless and bloody. Others, not yet dead, but horribly mutilated, were moaning or groaning. Of our men who surrender'd, most had been thus maim'd or slaughter'd. At this instant a force of our cavalry, who had der,) out of their

been following the

train at

some

interval,

charged

who proceeded once to make the best escape they could. Most

suddenly upon the secesh captors, at

of them got away, but

seventeen men,

we

gobbled two

officers

and

The was one which admitted of little discussion, as may be imagined. The seventeen captur'd men and two officers were put under guard for the night, but it was decided there and then that they should die. The next morning the two officers were taken in the in

the very acts just described.

sight

town, separate places, put

in

the centre of the street,

The seventeen men were taken to an open ground, a little one side. They were placed in a hollow square, half-encompass'd by two of our and

shot.

cavalry regiments, one of which regiments had three

days before found the bloody corpses of three of their

men hamstrung and hung up by

the heels to

limbs of trees by Moseby's guerillas, and the other

had not long before had twelve men, after surrendering, shot and then hung by the neck to limbs of trees, and jeering inscriptions pinn'd to the breast of one of the corpses, who had been a sergeant. Those say, by three, and those twelve, had been found, I

[953

Specimen

2)ai2S

Now, with

these environing regiments.

revolvers,

they formed the grim cordon of the seventeen

The

pris-

were placed in the midst of the hollow square, unfasten'd, and the ironical remark made to them that they were now to be given ''a chance for themselves. " A few ran for it. But what oners.

latter

From every

use?

side the deadly pills came.

In a

few minutes the seventeen corpses strew'd the hollow square. I was curious to know whether some of the Union soldiers, some few, (some one or two at least of the youngsters,) did not abstain

from shoot-

There was no

ing on the helpless men.

Not one.

exultation, very

almost nothing, yet every

man

little

said,

there contributed his shot.

Multiply the above by scores, aye ify it in all

hundreds— ver-

the forms that different circumstances, indi-

viduals, places, could afford

—

light

it

with every

lurid

passion, the wolf's, the lion's lapping thirst for blood

— the passionate, boiling volcanoes of human revenge — with the comrades, brothers of burnfor

slain

light

ing farms, and heaps of smutting, smouldering black

embers

— and

worse embers

in

the

human

heart everywhere black,

— and you have an inkling of this war.

As a very large proportion of the wounded ^^!"~^^°®^came up from the front without a cent of nation

money that

do to

raise their

in their pockets,

I

soon discover'd

was about the best thing could spirits, and show them that some-

it

I

[96]

Specimen body cared

for

2)ai20

them, and practically

felt

or brotherly interest in them, to give

sums

in

it.

am

1

regularly supplied with funds for this pur-

women and men

Providence, Brooklyn, and

five-cent

bills,

and,

New

York.

new

I

think

it

still

larger

have started

sum

to

incumbent,

some

this subject,

to ventilate the financial

I

provide

I

ten-cent and

30 cents, or perhaps 50 cents,

ionally a I

when

Boston, Salem,

in

myself with a quantity of bright

As

them small

such cases, using tact and discretion about

pose by good

25 or

a fatherly

I

give

and occas-

particular case.

take opportunity

question.

My

supplies,

altogether voluntary, mostly confidential, often seem-

numerous and varied. For instance, there were two distant and wealthy ladies, sisters, who sent regularly, for two years, quite heavy sums, enjoining that their names should be kept secret. The same delicacy was indeed a frequent condition. From several had carte blanche. Many were entire strangers. From these sources, during from two to three years, in the manner deing quite Providential, were

I

scribed, in the hospitals,

others,

I

bestowed, as almoner

many, many thousands of

dollars.

one thing conclusively — that beneath sible

all

I

for

learned

the osten-

greed and heartlessness of our times there

is

no

end to the generous benevolence of men and women in

the United States,

when once

Another thing became clear to not amiss to bring up the VOL.

IV.

-7.

[97]

sure of their object.

me — while

rear, tact

cash

is

and magnetic

Specimen Da^a sympathy and unction

and ever will be, sovereign

are,

still.

Some itenw from

of the half-eras'd, and not over-

jggjj^ig ^s^hen

made, memoranda of things

wanted by one patient or another, will convey quite a fair idea. D. S. G., bed 52, wants a good book; has a sore, weak throat; would like some horehound candy; is from New Jersey, 28th Regiment. C. H. L, 145th Pennsylvania, lies in bed 6, with jaundice and erysipelas; also wounded; stomach easily nauseated; bring him some Books

oranges, also a

young

fellow

little

tart jelly; hearty, full-blooded

— (he got better

now home on

a furlough).

J.

in

a few days, and

is

H. G., bed 24, wants

an undershirt, drawers, and socks; has not had a

change

for quite a while; is evidently a neat, clean

—

boy from New England (1 supplied him; also with a comb, tooth-brush, and some soap and towels; noticed afterward he was the cleanest of the whole ward). Mrs. G., lady nurse, ward F, wants a bottle I

— has two patients imperatively requiring stimulus — low with wounds and exhaustion. of brandy

(I

supplied her with a bottle of first-rate brandy from

the Christian Commission rooms.)

Well, poor John

A

Case from

BuURun

y^s^g^day.

His

Mahay was a

lingering case (see p.

been with him

is

dead.

He

died

and longhave 46 ante). painful

1

at times for the past fifteen

[98]

Specimen Dai?6

He belonged to company A, loist New York, and was shot through the lower region of the abdomen at second Bull Run, August, '62. One months.

scene at his bedside will suffice for the agonies of

The bladder had been

perforated

a bullet going entirely through him.

Not long

two

nearly

by

since

I

ward

E,

years.

sat a

good

part of the

morning by

The water

Armory-square.

his bedside,

ran out of his

eyes from the intense pain, and the muscles of his face

were

distorted, but

now and then.

groan

and

he utter'd nothing except a low

Hot moist cloths were applied, him somewhat. Poor Mahay, a mere boy

reliev'd

but old

in age,

in

misfortune.

was placed

of parents,

He never knew the love

infancy in one of the

in

New

and subsequently bound out to a tyrannical master in Sullivan County (the scars of whose cowhide and club remain'd yet on his

York charitable

His

back).

one, for he

boy. deed,

institutions,

wound was

here

was

a most disagreeable

a gentle, cleanly, and affectionate

He found friends in his hospital life, and, inwas a universal favorite. He had quite a funeral

ceremony.

I

Army

Sur-

DeTd^di

must bear

^^ ^^^ ^eal, spirit

my

most emphatic testimony manliness, and professional

and capacity, generally prevailing

among the surgeons, many of them young men,

in

the hospitals and the army.

much about

I

will not

say

the exceptions, for they are few; (but [99]

I

specimen H)a?6 have met some of those few, and very incompetent and airish they were). never ceas'd to find the I

best men, and the hardest and most disinterested

workers,

among

the surgeons

in

the hospitals.

They

are full of genius, too. have seen many hundreds Theie are, howof them and this is my testimony. I

ever, serious deficiencies, wastes, sad

tem,

in

want of

sys-

the commissions, contributions, and in

all

the voluntary, and a great part of the governmental nursing, edibles, medicines, stores, &c.

do not

(I

say surgical attendance, because the surgeons cannot

do more than human endurance permits.) Whatever puffing accounts there may be in the papers of the North, this

is

the actual

fact.

No

thorough

previous preparation, no system, no foresight, no

Always plenty of stores, no doubt, but never where they are needed, and never the proper application. Of all harrowing experiences, none is greater than that of the days following a heavy battle.

genius.

Scores, hundreds of the noblest

complaining,

lie

men on

earth, un-

helpless, mangled, faint, alone,

and

so bleed to death, or die from exhaustion, either actually untouch'd at

all,

or merely the laying of

them down and leaving them, when there ought be means provided to save them. This 3^^

^^""^

Everywhere

city,

its

to

suburbs, the Capitol, the

White House, the places of „ amusement, the Avenue, and all the mam front of the

,

[100]

,

t

Specimen S)a?6 swarm with soldiers this winter, more than Some are out from the hospitals, some ever before. from the neighboring camps, &c. One source or streets,

another, they pour plenteously, and make, say, the mark'd feature in the

I

should

human movement and

costume appearance of our national city. Their blue pants and overcoats are everywhere. The clump of crutches offices,

is

heard up the

and there are

stairs of

the paymasters'

characteristic groups

around

the doors of the same, often waiting long and wearily in

Toward the

the cold.

latter part of

the after-

noon, you see the furlough'd men, sometimes singly,

sometimes

in small

BaUimore depot.

way

squads, making their

At

all

to the

times, except early in the

morning, the patrol detachments are moving around, especially during the earlier hours of the evening,

examining passes, and arresting them.

They do not question

all

soldiers

without

the one-legged, or

men badly disabled or maim'd, but all others are They also go around evenings through the stopt. auditoriums of the theatres, and make officers and all show their passes, or other authority, for being there.

Sunday, January 29th, /c?^^.— Have been The *" Armory-square this afternoon. wards are very comfortable, new floors and

H^^^^ ^-tei^

and models of neatness. a model hospital after all,

am

plaster walls,

I

but this

in

is

[101]

not sure

important

Specimen 2)a?0 found several sad cases of old lingering

respects.

I

wounds.

One Delaware

soldier,

whom

from Bridgeville,

I

William H.

had been with

battles of the Wilderness, last

Millis,

the

after

May, where he

re-

bad wound in the chest, with another in the left arm, and whose case was serious (pneumonia had set in) all last June and July, now find well enough to do light duty. For three weeks at ceiv'd a very

I

the time mentioned he just hovered between

life

and

death.

As ^^sin

e

I

home about

walked

sunset,

I

saw

in

pQurteenth Street a very young soldier, thinly clad, standing near the house

about to enter.

stopt a

I

I

was

moment in front of the door knew that an old Tennessee

him to me. regiment, and also an Indiana regiment, were tempo-

and

call'd

rarily

I

stopping

This boy

Street.

regiment.

musket.

But

new

in

I

I

found belonged to the Tennessee

could hardly believe he carried a

He was but

twelve months a

near Fourteenth

barracks,

15

soldier,

years old, yet had been

and had borne

several battles, even historic ones.

did not suffer from the cold, and coat.

No, he did not

suffer

I

if

his part in

ask'd

him

if

he

he had no over-

from cold, and had no

draw one whenever he wished. His father was dead, and his mother living in some part of East Tennessee; all the men were from that part of the country. The next forenoon saw the overcoat, but could

I

[102]

Specimen Daije Tennessee and Indiana regiments marching

down the

My

boy was with the former, stepping along with the rest. There were maay other boys no older. stood and watch 'd them as they tramp'd Avenue.

I

along with slow, strong, heavy, regular steps. did not appear to be a

man

over 30 years of age, and

a large proportion were from

They had passive,

all

There

15 to

perhaps 22 or

23.

the look of veterans, worn, stain'd, im-

and a

certain unbent, lounging gait, carrying

arms and knapsacks, frequently a frying-pan, broom, &c. They were all of pleasant physiognomy; no refinement, nor blanch'd in addition to their regular

with

intellect,

along, rank repulsive,

by

but as

my

eye pick'd them, moving

rank, there did not

seem to be a

among

or markedly stupid face

brutal

single

them.

Here

T

^ T Lady Tvr^ Nurse

is

an incident just occurred

of the hospitals. ^

Mrs. Billings, cal friend of soldiers,

who

A

lady -^

in

one

named Miss

has long been

and nurse

in

or

a practi-

the army, and had

become attached to it in a way that no one can realize but him or her who has had experience, was taken sick, early this winter, linger'd some time, and finally died in the hospital. It was her request that she should be buried military

method.

among This

the soldiers, and after the request

was

fully

carried

Her coffm was carried to the grave by soldiers, with the usual escort, buried, and a salute fired over

out.

[103]

Specimen the

2)ai?0

This was at Annapolis

grave.

a few days

since.

women

There are many Female

another,

among

nurses here

Soldiers

in

the hospitals, mostly as

Washington, and among the

in

military stations; quite a

young

ladies acting as volunteers.

in certain

one position or

number of them They are a help

ways, and deserve to be mention 'd with

re-

Then it remains to be distinctly said that few or no young ladies, under the irresistible conventions of

spect.

society,

answer the

for soldiers.

practical requirements of nurses

Middle-aged or healthy and good con-

best.

women, mothers of children, are alMany of the wounded must be handled.

A hundred

things which cannot be gainsay'd must

dition'd elderly

ways

The presence of a good woman, the magnetic touch

occur and must be done.

middle-aged or elderly

of hands, the expressive features of the mother, the silent

soothing of her presence, her words, her know-

ledge and privileges arrived at only through having

had is

children, are precious

a natural faculty that

is

having a genteel young

and

final qualifications.

required;

woman

it

is

It

not merely

at a table in a

ward.

One of the finest nurses met was a red-faced illiterate have seen her take the poor old Irish woman; 1

1

wasted naked boys so tenderly up There are plenty that

would make

in

her arms.

ot excellent clean old black

tip-top nurses. [104]

women

Specimen Da^a Feb. 2}, '65. Southern Escapees

—

saw

I

a large procession of

young men from the rebel army, they are

call'd,

(deserters

but the usual meaning of

word does not apply to them,) passing the Avenue There were nearly 200, come up yesterday to-day. stood and watch 'd them by boat from James River. as they shuffled along, in a slow, tired, worn sort of way; a large proportion of light-hair'd, blonde, light gray-eyed young men among them. Their costumes had a dirt-stain'd uniformity; most had been originally gray; some had articles of our uniform, pants on one,

the

1

vest or coat on another;

think they were mostly

1

Georgia and North Carolina boys.

They

excited

no attention. As stood quite close to them, several good looking enough youths, (but oh, what a tale of misery their appearance told,) nodded or just spoke to me, without doubt divining pity and fatherliness out of my face, for my heart was full enough little

of

or

it.

I

Several of the couples trudg'd along with their

arms about each other, some probably brothers, as if they were afraid they might somehow get separated.

They

nearly

all

what one might call Some had pieces of old

look'd

yet intelligent, too.

simple, carpet,

some blankets, and others old bags around their shoulders. Some of them here and there had fine faces,

still

it

was

a procession of misery.

The two

hundred had with them about half a dozen arm'd Along this week saw some such procesguards. I

sion,

more

or less in numbers, every day, as they [105]

Specimen

3)ai?6

were brought up by the boat. The Government does what it can for them, and sends them North and West. Feb, 2jth.— Some three or four hundred more escapees from the Confederate army came up on the boat. As the day has been very pleasant indeed, (after a long spell of bad weather,) have been wandering around a good deal, without any other object than to be out-doors and enjoy it; have met these 1

escaped

men

in all directions.

Their apparel

same ragged, long- worn motley as talk'd with a number of the men. with an

air,

all

Some

are quite

their poor clothes — walking

all

wearing their old head-coverings on one

side, quite saucily.

proofs, as

the

before described.

I

bright and stylish, for

is

I

find the old, unquestionable

along the past four years, of the unscru-

pulous tyranny exercised by the secession govern-

ment

in

conscripting the

common

people by absolute

force everywhere, and paying no attention whatever

to the men's time being up service just the same.

— keeping them

One

gigantic

in military

young

fellow, a

Georgian, at least six feet three inches high, broadsized in proportion, attired in the dirtiest, drab, well-

smear'd rags, tied with strings, his trousers at the

and streamers, was complacently He appear'd standing eating some bread and meat. saw contented enough. Then a few minutes after him slowly walking along. It was plain he did not

knees

all

strips

I

take anything to heart. Feb.

28th.— As

1

pass'd the military headquarters [106]

Specimen 3)a?0 of the city, not far from the President's house, to interview

some

of the

I

stopt

crowd of escapees who appearance they were the

were lounging there. In same as previously mention'd. Two of them, one about 17, and the other perhaps 25 or 26, talk'd with some time. They were from North Carolina, born and rais'd there, and had folks there. The elder had been in the rebel service four years. He was I

first

conscripted for

two

arbitrarily in the ranks.

He was then kept

years.

This

is

the case with a large

proportion of the secession army.

There was nothing

downcast in these young men's manners; the younger had been soldiering about a year; he was conscripted; there were six brothers in

(all

the boys of the family)

the army, part of them as conscripts, part as

volunteers; three had been

kill'd;

about four months ago, and

now

one had escaped this one had got

away; he was a pleasant and well-talking lad, with the peculiar North Carolina idiom (not at all disagreeable to my ears). He and the elder one were of the same company, and escaped together and wish'd

—

to remain together.

away

portation

They thought

to Missouri,

of getting trans-

and working there; but

was judicious. advised them rather to go to some of the directly Northern States, and get farm work for the present. The younger had made six dollars on the boat, with some tobacco he brought; he had three and a half left. The elder had nothing; gave him a trifle. Soon after, met John

were not sure

it

I

I

[107]

Specimen ©a^e Wormley, 9th Alabama, a West Tennessee rais'd had the look of one for a boy, parents both dead

—

long time on short allowance

— said

very

little

—

chew'd tobacco at a fearful rate, spitting in proportion didn't clear dark-brown eyes, very fine know what to make of me— told me at last he wanted much to get some clean underclothes, and a

— large

—

Did

pair of decent pants. fixings.

Wanted

n't care

a chance to

about coat or hat

wash himself well, and had the very great

put on the

underclothes.

pleasure of

helping him to accomplish

I

all

those

wholesome designs. March ist. Plenty more butternut or clayAbout 160 came in color'd escapees every day. They to-day, a large portion South Carolinians.

—

generally take the oath of allegiance, and are sent

North, West, or extreme Southwest Several of

army, of

them

me

told

they wish.

if

that the desertions in their

men going home,

leave or no leave, are far

more numerous than their desertions to our side. saw a very forlorn looking squad of about a hundred,

I

late this

afternoon, on their

way

to the Baltimore

depot.

To-night

b^GasSt

I

have been wandering awhile

^^^ Capitol, which

is all lit

minated rotunda looks

fine.

me somehow.

I

The

like to

illu-

stand

up at the dome; it The House and Senate were

aside and look a long, long while,

comforts

up.

in

[108]

Specimen 2)a?a both

in session

till

very

late.

I

look'd in upon them,

but only a few moments; they were hard at work on tax and appropriation

long and rich

wander'd through the corridors and apartments under the bills.

I

now Not many persons down

Senate; an old habit of mine, former winters, and

more

satisfaction

than ever.

there, occasionally a flitting figure in .the distance.

he nauguration

March 4th.—The President very quietly ^^^^ down to the Capitol in his own ^ carriage,

by

himself,

on

a

sharp

about noon, either because he wish'd to

hand to sign

bills,

trot,

be on

or to get rid of marching in line

with the absurd procession, the muslin temple of

and pasteboard monitor.

liberty

I

saw him on

his

was He was in his plain two-horse barouche, and very much worn and tired; the lines, indeed,

return, at three o'clock, after the performance

over.

look'd

of vast responsibilities, intricate questions, and de-

mands of life and death, cut deeper than ever upon his dark brown face; yet all the old goodness, tenderness, sadness,

man without

feeling

one to become personally attach'd

to, for

the furrows. that he

is

and canny shrewdness, underneath (I

never see that

his combination of purest, heartiest tenderness,

and

Western form of manliness.) By his side sat his little boy, of ten years. There were no soldiers, only a lot of civilians on horseback, with huge yellow scarfs over their shoulders, riding around the carriage. native

[109]

Specimen 2)a?0

down

(At the inauguration four years ago, he rode

and back again surrounded by a dense mass of arm'd cavalrymen eight deep, with drawn sabres; and there were sharpshooters stationed at every corner on the ought to make mention of the closing route.) I

levee of Saturday night

a compact

jam

in front

Never before was such all the of the White House last.

—

grounds filFd, and away out to the spacious sidewalks. 1

was

there, as

I

took a notion to go

rush inside with the crowd

— surged

— was

in

the

along the pas-

sage-ways, the blue and other rooms, and through

Crowds

the great east room.

some very funny.

of country people,

Fine music from the Marine Band,

off in a side place.

I

saw Mr.

Lincoln, drest

duty bound, shaking hands,

looking very disconsolate, and as

anything to be somewhere

Looking over ^ Foreign

in

and a claw-hammer

black, with white kid gloves coat, receiving, as in

all

he would give

if

else.

my

scraps,

I

the following during 1864.

found

I

wrote

The happen-

Govemments ing to our America, abroad as well as at during the

home, these

years,

The democratic

is

indeed most strange.

republic has paid her to-

day the terrible and resplendent compliment of the united wish of all the nations of the world that her union should be broken, her future cut off, and that she should be compelled to descend to the level of

kingdoms and empires

ordinarily great. [no]

There

is

— Specimen 2)a?0 one Government

Europe but is now watching the war in this country, with the ardent prayer that the United States may be effectually There is not split, crippled, and dismember'd by it.

certainly not

in

one but would help toward that dismemberment, dared.

I

say such

is

the ardent wish to-day of Eng-

land and of France, as governments, and of nations of Europe, as governments. it

is

to-day the

if it

real, heartfelt

the

think indeed

I

wish of

all

all

the nations

of the world with the single exception of Mexico

Mexico, the only one to

done wrong, and

now

whom we

have ever

the only one

who

really

prays for

us and for our triumph, with genuine prayer.

not indeed strange? fully

America,

made up

of

cheer-

from the beginning opening her arms to

the result and justifier of

all,

last

all,

of Britain, Germany,

—the accepter, the resource and general house of —she who

France and Spain— all here hope,

all,

Is it

friend,

all

has harm'd none, but been bounteous to so many,

mother of strangers and exiles, all nations should now, I say, be paid this dread compliment of general governmental fear and hatred. Are

to millions, the

—

we indignant?

alarm'd?

Do we feel jeopardized? No;

help'd, braced, concentrated, rather.

prone to wander from ourselves, to

We are all too

affect

Europe, and

watch her frowns and smiles. We need this hot lesson of general hatred, and henceforth must never forget it. Never again will we trust the moral sense nor abstract friendliness of a single Government of the Old World. [Ill]

Specimen Da^a

Tti

^'^^ther the

w

—Does

the heat and cold, and

rains,

ii

^h^t what

It

Sympathize with These

[^jg

underlies affects

p]^y

^f

them

man

are affected with

all,

in

masses, and follow

passionate

action,

strain'd

stronger than usual, and on a larger scale

—whether

than usual

this,

or no,

it

certain that

is

now, and has been for twenty months or more, on this American continent north, many re-

there

is

markable,

many

world of

subtile

since this war,

an unprecedented expression of the air

above us and around

us.

There,

and the wide and deep national

agitation, strange analogies, different combinations,

a different sunlight, or absence of it; different products

even out of the ground. great storm.

urday

last,

Even

After every great battle, a

civic events the

same.

On

Sat-

a forenoon like whirling demons, dark,

with slanting

rain, full of rage;

and then the

after-

noon, so calm, so bathed with flooding splendor from heaven's most excellent sun, with atmosphere of

show'd the stars, long, long before they were due. As the President came out on the Capitol portico, a curious little white cloud, the only one in that part of the sky, appear'd like a sweetness; so

clear,

it

hovering bird, right over him. Indeed, the heavens, the elements, ological influences,

Such

caprices,

beauty, (as last

I

have run

all

riot for

the meteor-

weeks

past.

abruptest alternation of frowns and

never knew.

summer was

It is

a

common remark

that

different in its spells of intense [112]

Specimen S)a?0 heat from any preceding

has been without to the hour

am

I

the past month

it,)

the winter just completed

parallel.

has remain'd so

Much

writing.

was

It

down

of the daytime of

sulky, with leaden heaviness,

and some insane storms. But there have been samples of another description.

fog, interstices of bitter cold,

Nor

knew

earth nor sky ever

spectacles of superber

beauty than some of the nights western

star,

Venus,

in

has never been so large, so clear;

something, as

if it

The

it

seems

as

if it

told

held rapport indulgent with hu-

manity, with us Americans.

hung

lately here.

the earlier hours of evening,

Five or six nights since,

by the moon, then a little past its first quarter. The star was wonderful, the moon like a young mother. The sky, dark blue, the transparent it

close

night, the elastic

planets, the

moderate west wind, the

temperature, the miracle of that great

star,

and the young and swelling moon swimming in the heard, slow and west, suffused the soul. Then clear, the deliberate notes of a bugle come up out of I

the silence, sounding so good through the night's

mystery, no hurry, but firm and

faithful,

floating

and there a long-drawn note; the bugle, well play'd, sounding tattoo, in one of the army hospitals near here, where along, rising, falling leisurely, with here

wounded (some

them personally so dear to me,) are lying in their cots, and many a sick boy come down to the war from Illinois, Michigan, Wis-

the

consin, Iowa,

of

and the

rest.

VOL. IV.—8.

["3l

Specimen 2)a?0

March ti

6,

—

have been up to look

I

d^"^^ ^^^ supper-rooms,

nB^"

at the

for the inaugura-

tion ball at the Patent Office;

and

1

could

not help thinking, what a different scene they pre-

sented to

my view a while since, fill'd with a crowded

mass of the worst wounded of the war, brought in from second Bull Run, Antietam, and Fredericks-

women, perfumes,

burg.

To-night, beautiful

violin's

sweetness, the polka and the waltz; then the

the

amputation, the blue face, the groan, the glassy eye of the dying, the clotted rag, the odor of

wounds

and blood, and many a mother's son amid strangers,

away untended there (for the crowd of the badly hurt was great, and much for nurse to do, and much for surgeon). passing

must mention a strange scene at the Capi^^'' ^^^ ^^" ^^ Representatives, the morning of Saturday last (March 4th). The I

the^Ca^itoi

day

just

dawn'd, but

in

half-darkness, everything

dim, leaden, and soaking.

In that

dim

light,

the

members nervous from long drawn duty, exhausted, some asleep, and many half asleep. The gas-light, mix'd with the dingy day-break, produced an unearthly effect.

The poor

little

pages, the smell of the hall, the

sleepy,

stumbling

members with heads

leaning on their desks, the sounds of the voices

speaking,

with unusual

intonations

— the

general

moral atmosphere also of the close of this important [114]

Specimen

2)ai?5

— the strong hope that the war ing close — the tantalizing dread one — the grandeur of the may be a session

is

approach-

its

lest

the hope

false

hall itself,

shadows up toward the panels all made a mark'd and spaces over the galleries with

its effect

of vast

—

combination. the midst of

In

with the suddenness of a

this,

thunderbolt, burst one of the most angry and crashing

storms of rain and

hail

ever heard.

howl'd and

beat like a del-

and the wind For a moment, (and no

uge on the heavy glass roof of the literally

It

roar'd.

hall,

wonder,) the nervous and sleeping Representatives

were thrown with

fear,

The slumberers awaked for the doors, some look'd up

into confusion.

some

started

with blanch'd cheeks and little

pages began to cry;

it

lips to

was

the roof, and the

a scene.

over almost as soon as the drowsied

awake.

ally

They

But

it

men were

was

actu-

recover'd themselves; the storm

raged on, beating, dashing, and with loud noises at

But the House went ahead with

times.

then,

I

think, as calmly

tion as at

any time

its

and with as much

in its career.

business delibera-

Perhaps the shock

(One is not without impression, after all, amid these members of Congress, of both the Houses, did

it

that

good.

if

the

flat

routine of their duties should ever

upon by some great emergency involving real danger, and calling for first-class personal qualities, those qualities would be found generally forthcoming and from men not now credited with them.) be broken

in

["5]

Specimen ©ai^a

March

A

—Sergeant Calvin F. Harlowe, company C, 29th Massachu-

ankee

setts,

/5^5.

2j,

3d brigade,

Ninth corps

ist division,

—a

marked sample of heroism and death, (some

may

say bravado, but

est

order) —

I

say heroism, of grandest, old-

the late attack by the rebel troops,

in

and temporary capture by them, of

The

at night.

fort

was

Steadman,

fort

surprised at dead of night.

Suddenly awaken'd from

and rushing

their sleep,

from their tents, Harlowe, with others, found himself in the

hands of the secesh

surrender

— he

course

was

it

odds were too this time

— they demanded his

answer'd, l^ever while I useless.

great.)

by a

The

live,

(Of

others surrender'd; the

Again he was ask'd to

rebel captain.

yield,

Though surrounded,

and quite calm, he again refused, call'd sternly to his comrades to fight on, and himself attempted to do but at the so. The rebel captain then shot him

—

same

Both

instant he shot the captain.

mortally wounded.

fell

Harlowe died almost

together

instantly.

The rebels were driven out in a very short time. The body was buried next day, but soon taken up and sent home (Plymouth County, Mass.).

was

Harlowe

slim, darkonly 22 years of age — was a blue-eyed young man — had come out tall,

origi-

hair'd,

nally with the 29th;

and that

is

the

his death, after four years' campaign.

way he met He was

the Seven Days' fight before Richmond, Bull

Run, Antietam,

first

in

in

second

Fredericksburg, Vicksburg,

[116]

Specimen Da^a Jackson, Wilderness, and the campaigns following

was

as

good a

every old

soldier as ever

officer in

wore the

blue,

—

and

the regiment will bear that testi-

mony. Though so young, and in a common rank, he had a spirit as resolute and brave as any hero in the books, ancient or modern it was too great to say the words ''I surrender" and so he died. (When think of such things, knowing them well, all the vast and complicated events of the war, on which history dwells and makes its volumes, fall aside, and for the moment at any rate see nothing but young Calvin Harlowe's figure in the night,

— —

I

I

disdaining to surrender.)

The war

is

over, but the hospitals are

Wounds and Diseases

^^j|^^ ^j^^^^ ^^^^^

cases.

are in the

of

wound,

A

arms and in

^^^^ former and current

large majority of the legs.

But there

every part of the body.

of the sick, from

my

wounds

is

every kind

I

should say

observation, that the prevailing

maladies are typhoid fever and the

camp

fevers gen-

and

bronchitis,

erally, diarrhoea, catarrhal affections

rheumatism and pneumonia.

These forms of sickness lead; all the rest follow. There are twice as many sick as there are wounded. The deaths range from seven to ten per cent, of those under treatment. * * In the U. S. Surgeon-General's office since, there is a formal record and treatment of 253, 142 cases of wounds by government surgeons. What must have been the number unofficial, indirect to say nothing of the Southern armies?

—

[1173

— Specimen 2)a?0 April Pre^*ident

Lincoin

i6, '^5.

—

my

find in

I

*™^'

*^^^ passage

ham

Lincoln:

He

notes of the

on the death of Abraleaves

America's

for

and biography, so far, not only its most dramatic reminiscence he leaves, in my opinion, the greatest, best, most characteristic, artistic, moral personality. Not but that he had faults, and show'd them in the Presidency; but honesty, goodness, shrewdness, conscience, and (a new virtue, unknown to other lands, and hardly yet really known here, but the foundation and tie of all, as the history

—

future will grandly develop,) Unionism, in

its

and amplest sense, form'd the hard-pan of

his char-

These he

acter.

splendor of his

throws round

seal'd

with his

death,

purging,

life.

The

truest

tragic

illuminating

all,

his form, his head, an aureole that will

remain and will grow brighter through time, while history lives, and love of country lasts.

has this Union been help'd; but

man, must be pick'd servator of

it,

to the future.

but the Union falls

a

on.

is

and another

wave

out, he,

if

The

all, is

He was

assassinated

thousand

its

the con-

fa iral

—

One

soldier drops, sinks like

— but the ranks of the ocean

Death does

one name, one

most of

not assassinated

falls.

By many

eternally press

work, obliterates a hundred, a

— President, general, captain, private, —but

the Nation

is

immortal.

[X18]

Specimen

bnerman's Army's Jubilation— its Sudden Stoppage

2)ai?0

When

Sherman's armies, (long n « after they j left Atlanta,) were marching through South

and North Carolina—after leaving Savan^^^ ^j^^ ^^^^ ^f Lee's capitulation hav^ ing been receiv

a mile without from

some

d—the

men

never mov'd

part of the line sending up

continued, inspiriting shouts.

At intervals

all

day

long sounded out the wild music of those peculiar

They would be commenc'd by one regiment or brigade, immediately taken up by others, and at length whole corps and armies would join in It was one of the these wild triumphant choruses. army

cries.

Western troops, and serving as a relief and outlet to the

characteristic expressions of the

became

men

a habit,

—a vent

peace, &c.

for their feelings of victory, returning

Morning, noon, and afternoon, spontane-

ous, for occasion or without occasion, these huge,

strange

through the open youth, joy,

from

differing

cries,

air

wildness,

for

any

many

other,

echoing

a mile, expressing

irrepressible

strength,

and

the ideas of advance and conquest, sounded along

the

swamps and uplands

skies.

of the South, floating to the

(''There never were

men

that kept in better

danger or defeat— what then could they do victory?" said one of the 15th corps to me,

spirits in

in

afterwards.)

—

This exuberance continued

till

the

There the news of the Then no more President's murder was receiv'd. shouts or yells, for a week. All the marching was

armies arrived at Raleigh.

[119]

Specimen Dai?0 comparatively muffled. hardly a loud

A hush and

word

was very

It

or laugh in

silence pervaded

significant

—

many of the regiments. all.

Probably the reader has seen physiognoPortraif

^'^^ (often old farmers, sea-captains, and f

such) that, behind their homeliness, or even

Lincoln

ugliness, held superior points so subtle,

yet so palpable, making the real

life

of their faces

almost as impossible to depict as a wild perfume or fruit-taste, or a passionate

and such was Lincoln's lines of cal

it,

it

The

tion.

them

face,

the peculiar color, the

the eyes, mouth, expression.

Of

techni-

had nothing—but to the eye of a great furnished a rare study, a feast and fascina-

beauty

artist

tone of the living voice—

it

current portraits are

all

failures

—most of

caricatures.

The Released

?^^^° Pnsoners

from South

bloodiest.

releas'd

prisoners of

war

are

now

coming up from the Southern prisons. have seen a number of them. The sight ° than any is worse sight of battle-fields, any collection of or wounded, even the There was, (as a sample,) one large boat I

load, of several hundreds,

brought about the 25th,

and out of the whole number only three individuals were able to walk from the boat. The rest were carried ashore and laid down in one to Annapolis;

place or another.

Can those be men— those [120]

little

Specimen

2)ai?0

brown, ash-streak'd, monkey-looking dwarfs ? —are they really not mummied, dwindled corpses ? They lay there, most of them, quite still, but with a livid

horrible look in their eyes

and skinny

not enough flesh on the

lips to

lips (often

with

cover their teeth).

Probably no more appalling sight was ever seen on (There are deeds, crimes, that

this earth.

forgiven; but this

is

not

among them.

may be It

steeps

perpetrators in blackest, escapeless, endless

its

dam-

Over 50,000 have been compell'd to die the death of starvation reader, did you ever try to in those prisons realize what starvation actually is ? —and in a land of plenty.) An indescribable meannation.

—

—

ness, tyranny, aggravating course of insults, almost

incredible

through

— was

all

evidently the

of treatment

The dead some of the

the Southern military prisons.

much

there are not to be pitied as

come from living— many of them living that

will

rule

there are

—

if

as

they can be calFd

mentally imbecile, and

never recuperate.*

* From a review 0/" Andersonville,

A Story

of Southern Military Prisons,"

published serially in the Toledo ''Blade," in iSyp, and afterwards in hook form: •'There

is

a deep fascination in the subject of Andersonville

—

^for

that Golgotha,

which lie the whitening bones of 13,000 gallant young men, represents the It dearest and costliest sacrifice of the war for the preservation of our national unity. is a type, too, of its class. Its more than hundred hecatombs of dead represent in

several times that

number of

their brethren, for

whom

the prison gates of Belle

Isle,

Columbia, and Cahaba open'd only in eternity. There are few families in the North who have not at least one dear relative or friend among these 60,000 whose sad fortune it was to end their service for the Union by Danville,

lying

Salisbury,

Florence,

down and dying

for

it

The manner

in a southern prison pen.

the horrors that cluster'd thickly around every unfaltering steadfastness with

moment

which they endured [121]

all

of their death,

of their existence, the loyal,

that fate had brought them,

Specimen 2)a?0 Frank H. Irwin, company E, 93d Pennsyl-

— Dear

mother,

Soldier

and Frank's death

fact of his

in

madam

No

doubt you

have heard the sad hospital here, through his uncle, friends

who

or the lady from Baltimore, (I

:

took his things.

have not seen them, only heard of them

Frank.)

I

will write

by

friend that sat

his

you

visiting

few lines— as a casual death-bed. Your son. Corporal a

Frank H. Irwin, was wounded near Fort Fisher, Vir-

1865—the wound was in the left knee, pretty bad. He was sent up to Washington, was receiv'd in ward C, Armory-square hospital, March 28th—the wound became worse, and on the March

ginia,

25th,

It was not with them as with their comrades in was perform'd in the presence of those whose duty it was to observe such matters and report them to the world. Hidden from the view of their friends in the north by the impenetrable veil which the military operations of the rebels drew around the so-called confederacy, the people knew next to nothing

has never been adequately told. the

field,

whose every

act

of their career or their sufferings.

hundreds

who

on the

perish'd

outright, in the terrible

of desperate fighting

many till

—

down

many Union dead

in lie

less

heeded even than the

Grant did not lose as

many men

kill'd

—

campaign from the Wilderness to the James river 43 days as died in July and August at Andersonville. Nearly twice as

died in that prison as

he settled

Thousands died there

battle-field.

fell

from the day that Grant cross'd the Rapidan,

the trenches before Petersburg.

More than

four times as

under the solemn soughing pines about that forlorn

village in southern Georgia,

little

than mark the course of Sherman from Chattanooga to

Atlanta. The nation stands aghast at the expenditure of life which attended the two bloody campaigns of 1864, which virtually crush'd the confederacy, but no

one remembers that more Union soldiers died in the rear of the rebel lines than were kill'd in the front of them. The great military events which stamp'd out the rebellion

drew

play'd in those

From a "

1

attention

away from

gloomy pens

letter of

the sad drama which starvation and disease

in the far recesses

"Johnny Bouquet,"

of sombre southern forests."

in N. Y.

visited at Salisbury, N. C., the prison

"

pen or the

Tribune, ^^ site

of

it,

March

2"],

^81.

from which nearly

12,000 victims of southern politicians were buried, being confined in a pen without

[122]

Specimen 2)a?0 was amputated a little above the operation was perform 'd by Dr. Bliss, one

4th of April the leg

knee—the

of the best surgeons in the

army—he

whole

did the

himself—there was a good matter gather'd—the bullet was found in the knee. For a couple of weeks afterwards he was doing pretty deal

operation

of bad

by him frequently, as he was fond of having me. The last ten or twelve days of He previously April saw that his case was critical. had some fever, with cold spells. The last week in well.

I

and

visited

sat

I

he was much of the time flighty—but always

April

He died first of May. The actual death was pyaemia, (the absorption of the

mild and gentle. cause of

Frank,

matter in the system instead of its discharge). as far as

1

saw, had everything requisite

He had watches much

treatment, nursing, &c. exposed to

shelter,

the elements could do, to

all

together could create, and to caitiff

all

in surgical

all

of

the disease herding animals

the starvation and cruelty an incompetent and intense

From the conversation and almost from the

government could accomplish.

recollection of the northern people this place has dropp'd, but not so in the gossip

of the Salisbury people, nearly

all

of

whom

say that the half was never told

when

such was the nature of habitual outrage here that the townspeople harbor'd fall

on them, to

at the

often

them

Boyden House, who

men

notice, but too

weak

still

pull'd out of the

to

lift

back to such

vengeance of God would Said one old man

cruelty.

a finger.

alive.

dead

I

cart

have the testimony of a surgeon their eyes open and taking

with

There was not the

least excuse for

ment, as the confederate government had seized every sawmill could just as well have put up shelter for these prisoners as not, here.

It

will

that

join'd in the conversation one evening: 'There were

buried out of that prison pen

had seen them

that he

in their barns, afraid the

deliver even their enemies

;

Federal prisoners escaped

be hard to make any honest

slightest necessity for those prisoners

man

having to

in Salisbury

such treat-

in the region,

wood

and

being plentiful

say that there was the

live in old tents, caves

and holes

made to the Davis government against Promotion was the the officers in charge of it, but no attention was paid to them. punishment for cruelty there. The inmates were skeletons. Hell could have no ** terrors for any man who died there, except the inhuman keepers.' half-full

of water.

Representations were

[123]

Specimen 2)a?0 He was

the time.

affectionate,

I

so good and well-behaved and

myself liked him very much.

was in by him,

I

the habit of coming in afternoons and sitting

and soothing him, and he liked to have me— liked to put his arm out and lay his hand on my knee would keep it so a long while. Toward the last he was

—

more

night— often fancied himself with his regiment—by his talk sometimes seem'd as if his feelings were hurt by being blamed by his officers for something he was entirely innorestless

cent of

—

said,

and

''I

flighty

never

at

in

my

was thought

life

capable of such a thing, and never was."

times he would fancy himself talking as to children or such like, his relatives

giving them good advice

I

At other seem'd

it

suppose, and

would talk to them a long while. All the time he was out of his head not one single bad word or idea escaped him. It was remark'd that

many

;

a man's conversation in his senses

was not half as good as Frank's delirium. He seem'd quite willing to die— he had become very weak and had suffer'd a good deal, and was perfectly resign'd, do not know his past life, but feel as if it must have been good. At any rate what saw of him here, under the most trying circumstances,

poor boy.

I

I

I

with a painful wound, and among strangers, say that

after

can

he behaved so brave, so composed, and

so sweet and affectionate,

And now

I

like

serving

many his

it

could not be surpass'd.

other noble and good men,

country [124]

as

a

soldier,

he

has

— Specimen Baige young

yielded up his

God

at the very outset in her

Such things are gloomy—yet there is a text, all things well "—the meaning of which,

service. *'

life

doeth

due time, appears to the soul. I thought perhaps a few words, though from a stranger, about your son, from one who was with him at the last, might be worth while—for loved the young man, though but saw him immediately after

I

1

pitals

am

merely a friend visiting the hosoccasionally to cheer the wounded and sick.

to lose him.

I

W.W. May ^

R^turaSg

Sunday.

7.

— To-day

I

fell

themselves) about a thousand

portion of

way

I

was

with several large squads of the

in

returning Western army, {Sherman's call'd

as

walking a mile or two south of Alexandria,

them

half sick,

some

men

in all,

as they

the largest

convalescents, on

to a hospital camp.

These fragmentary excerpts, with the unmistakable Western physiognomy and idioms, crawling along slowly— after a

their

great campaign,

blown

this

way, as

their latitude— I

mark'd with

with off and on

for

was one very some of the

it

were, out of

and talk'd Here and there

curiosity,

over an hour.

were able to walk, except last, who had given out, and were seated on the ground, faint and despondent. These tried to cheer, told them the camp they were to reach was only a little way further over the hill, and sick

;

but

all

I

C125]

Specimen Da?0 so got them up and started, accompanying some of the worst a

little

way, and helping them, or putting

them under the support of stronger comrades. May 21.— Saw General Sheridan and his cavalry to-day; a strong, attractive sight; the men were mostly young, (a few middle-aged,) superb-look-

brown, spare, keen, with well-worn

ing fellows,

many with

clothing,

around

dash'd along pretty

wide close ranks,

mud; no holiday

spatter'd with after

in

fast,

brigade.

I

They

down.

hanging

shoulders,

their

water-proof cloth

pieces of

all

brigade

soldiers;

could have watch 'd for a week.

Sheridan stood on a balcony, under a big tree, coolly

smoking a

me

cigar.

favorably.

May 22. — Have full

been taking a walk along Penn-

Avenue and Seventh

sylvania is

His looks and manner impress'd

Street north.

of soldiers, running around loose.

everywhere, of

all

grades.

All

beaten look of practical service. All the

tire of.

them,)

The

for

swarming

armies are

to-morrow's

like

a sight

I

never

here (or portions of

review.

You

see

them

bees everywhere.

For two days The Grand

Officers

have the weatherIt is

now

city

now

the broad spaces of

Pennsylvania Avenue along to Treasury

and so by detour around to the President's house, and so up to Georgetown, and across the aqueduct bridge, have been alive with a magnifihill,

[126]

Specimen Ba?6 cent sight, the returning armies.

wide ranks watch them

In their

stretching clear across the Avenue,

I

march or ride along, at a brisk pace, through two whole days— infantry, cavalry, artillery some 200,000 men. Some days afterwards one or two other corps; and then, still afterwards, a good part of Sherman's immense army, brought up from Charleston,

—

Savannah, &c.

May Western

j^^^^

Soldiers

26-7.

— The

the public build

^^^ grounds of Washington,

swarm with

all

the Western States.

me first, and always show

1

They

continually meeting and talking with them.

often speak to

still

soldiers from Illinois, Indiana,

Ohio, Missouri, Iowa, and

am

streets,

great socia-

and glad to have a good interchange of chat. These Western soldiers are more slow in their movements, and in their intellectual quality also; have no extreme alertness. They are larger in size, have a bility,

more serious physiognomy, are continually looking They are largely at you as they pass in the street. During the war have animal, and handsomely so. I

been

at

times with the Fourteenth, Fifteenth, Seven-

always feel drawn and Twentieth Corps. toward the men, and like their personal contact when we are crowded close together, as frequently teenth,

I

They General Sherman; call him

think the

these days in the street-cars.

all

world of

''old Bill," or

sometimes ''Uncle

Billy." [127]

Specimen Dai^e

'^

Lincoln

May 28,—As 1 sat by the bedside of a sick ^° Michigan soldier in hospital to-day, a convalescent from the adjoining bed rose and

came to me, and presently we began talking. He was a middle-aged man, belonged to the 2d Virginia regiment, but lived in Racine, Ohio, and had a fam-

He spoke

ily there.

of President Lincoln, and said:

and many are

And now we have lost the best, the fairest, the truest man in America. Take him altogether, he was the best man this country ever produced. It was quite a while thought very different; but some time before ''The war

is

over,

lost.

I

the murder, that

was deep

was now

the

way

I

have seen

earnestness in the soldier.

further talk he

and quite

's

There

found upon

had known Mr. Lincoln personally,

closely, years before.) in

(I

it."

the

fifth

He was

a veteran;

year of his service;

cavalry man, ^nd had been in a

good

was

a

deal of hard

fighting.

May Two

Broth-

one South one North

28-9,-1 staid to-night a long time

j^y ^{^^

bedside of a

new

patient, a

6]*s

Baltimorean, aged about 19 years, p.,

young

W.

S.

(2d Maryland, southern,) very feeble,

right leg amputated, can't sleep hardly at all

— has

taken a great deal of morphine, which, as

more than it comes to. Evidently very affectionate very intelligent and well bred held on to my hand, and put it by his face, not willusual,

is

costing

—

[128]

—

Specimen 2)a?0 ing to

him

me

let

As

leave.

in his pain,

was

I

me

he says to

—

lingering, soothing

suddenly,

'' I

hardly

don't wish to impose know who am said did not am a rebel soldier."

think you

I

upon

you —

know

that,

I

I

I

I

made no difference. Visiting him daily for about two weeks after that, while he lived, (death had mark'd him, and he was quite alone,) but

it

I

loved him much, always kiss'd him, and he did me. In

an adjoining ward

I

found his brother, an

officer

of rank, a Union soldier, a brave and religious man, (Col. Clifton K. Prentiss, sixth Maryland infantry,

Sixth corps,

wounded

in

one of the engagements

at

Petersburg, April 2 —lingered, suffer'd much, died in

Brooklyn, Aug. 20,

both were

hit.

'65).

was

It

One was a strong

in

the same battle

Unionist, the other

Secesh; both fought on their respective sides, both

badly wounded, and both brought together here

Each died

a separation of four years.

Ca^s

vet

plication

after

for his cause.

A/<^j^/.—James H. Williams, aged 21, 3d Virginia cavalry. About as mark'd a case of a strong man brought low by a comof diseases, (laryngitis, fever, debility and

—

diarrhoea,) as

I

have ever seen

—has superb physique,

remains swarthy yet, and flushed and red with fever

—

is

altogether flighty

— flesh of his great breast and

arms tremulous, and pulse pounding away with treble quickness lies a good deal of the time in a partial sleep, but with low muttering and groans a sleep

—

VOL. IV.—Q.

—

[129]

Specimen Dapa which there is no rest. Powerful as he is, and so young, he will not be able to stand many more days of the strain and sapping heat of yesterday and today. His throat is in a bad way, tongue and lips When ask him how he feels, he is able parch'd. just to articulate, 'M feel pretty bad yet, old man," and looks at me with his great bright eyes. Father, in

I

John Williams, Millensport, Ohio.

June 9-10.— have been \

the bedside of a

wounded

sitting late to-night

captain, a special friend of

mine, lying with a painful fracture of of the hospitals, in a large

ward

The

but a

lights

were put

out,

by

all

left

leg in

one

partially vacant. little

candle, far

The full moon shone in through the windows, making long, slanting silvery patches on the floor. All was still, my friend too was silent, but could not sleep; so sat there by him, slowly from where

I

sat.

I

wafting the fan, and occupied with the musings that arose out of the scene, the long beautiful ghostly moonlight

shadowy ward, the

on the

floor,

the white

beds, here and there an occupant with huddled form,

the bed-clothes thrown

off.

The

hospitals have a

number of cases of sun-stroke and exhaustion by heat, from the late reviews.

There are many such

from the Sixth corps, from the hot parade of day before yesterday.

(Some

of these

shows

cost the lives

of scores of men.)

Sunday, Sept. /o.— Visited Douglas and Stanton hospitals.

They

are quite

full.

[130]

Many

of the cases

Specimen 2)a?6 bad ones, lingering wounds, and old sickness. There is a more than usual look of despair on the countenances of many of the men; hope has left them. went through the wards, talking as usual. There are several here from the Confederate army are

I

whom

had seen in other hospitals, and they recognized me. Two were in a dying condition. I

In

one of the hospital tents

Calhoun's

i

Real Monu-

^^^^^> ^^

'

putation,

ment

I

j.

j.

j

i

for special

j*

^^t to-day tending a

new am-

heard a couple of neighboring

soldiers talking to each other from their cots.

One down with

fever,

but improving, had

come up belated from Charleston not long before. The other was what we now call an ''old veteran," (/. e., he was a Connecticut youth, probably of less than the age of twenty-five years, the four

which he had spent

in active service in

the

last

war

of

in all

The two were chatting of one thing and another. The fever soldier spoke of John C. Calhoun's monument, which he had seen, and was describing it. The veteran said: '' have seen Calhoun's monument. That you saw is not the real monument. But have seen it. It is the desolated, ruined South; nearly the whole generation of young parts of the country).

1

I

men between maim'd;

all

seventeen and thirty destroyed or

the old families used up

— the rich im-

poverish'd, the plantations cover'd with weeds, the slaves unloos'd

and become the masters, and the [131]

— Specimen 2)a?0

name all

of Southerner blacken 'd with every

that

is

Calhoun's October 3,

Hospitals

^^^

real

shame

—

monument."

—There are two army hospitals

remaining.

I

went

to the

largest

of these (Douglas) and spent the after-

There are many sad cases, noon and evening. old wounds, incurable sickness, and some of the wounded from the March and April battles before Richmond. Few realize how sharp and bloody those

Our men exposed themselves press'd ahead without urging. Then

closing battles were.

more than

usual;

the Southerners fought with extra desperation. sides

knew

Both

that with the successful chasing of the

rebel cabal from

Richmond, and the occupation of

by the national troops, the game was up. The dead and wounded were unusually many. Of that city

wounded the

the

last lingering driblets

brought to hospital here.

I

find

many

have been

rebel

wounded

and have been extra busy to-day 'tending to the worst cases of them with the rest. here,

—

Dec, '65. Sundays. Every Sunday of these months visited Harewood hospital out in the woods, pleasant and recluse, some two and a The situahalf or three miles north of the Capitol. Oct., Nov.,

tion

is

healthy, with broken ground, grassy slopes

and patches of oak woods, the trees large and fine. It was one of the most extensive of the hospitals,

now

reduced to four or five partially occupied wards, [132]

Specimen 3)a?0 numerous others being vacant. In November, this became the last military hospital kept up by the Government, all the others being closed. Cases of the worst and most incurable wounds, obstinate illness, and of poor fellows who have no homes to go the

to, are

found here.

Dec, 10,

—Sunday, —Again spending a good part of

the day at Harewood.

sundown.

I

write this about an hour before

have walk'd out

few minutes to the edge of the woods to soothe myself with the hour and scene. It is a glorious, warm, golden-sunny, I

for a

The only noise is from a crowd of cawing crows, on some trees three hundred yards distant. Clusters of gnats swimming and dancing in the air in all directions. The oak leaves are thick afternoon.

still

and give a strong and delicious perfume. Inside the wards everything is gloomy. Death is there. As I enter'd, was confronted by under the bare

trees,

I

it

the

first

thing; a corpse of a poor soldier, just dead,

of typhoid fever.

The attendants had just straighten'd

the limbs, put coppers on the eyes, and were laying it

out.

The Roads.— K great years, has

been

in

recreation, the past three

taking long walks out from

ington, five, seven, perhaps ten

generally with

of

it

as

I

am.

my friend

Wash-

miles and back;

Peter Doyle,

who is

as fond

Fine moonlight nights, over the per-

fect military roads,

hard and smooth

we had these delightful

—or Sundays—

walks, never to be forgotten. [133]

Specimen

2)ai?0

The roads connecting Washington and the numerous forts around the city made one useful result, at any rate,

out of the war.

Even the

typical soldiers

I

have been per-

with,— it seems to me if were to make a list of them it would be Some few only have menlike a city directory. most are dead—a few tion'd in the foregoing pages yet living. There is Reuben Farwell, of Michigan, sonally intimate

J^\^^^

'

-^

Soldiers

I

I

—

(little

185th stein,

New

*'

Mitch";) Benton H. Wilson,

New

Wm.

York;

color-bearer,

Stansberry; Manvill Winter-

Ohio; Bethuel Smith; Capt. Simms, of 51st York, (killed at Petersburg mine explosion;)

Capt. Sam. Pooley and Lieut. Fred.

same

Also,

reg't.

Whitman

—

reg't,

my

in active service all

re-enlisting twice

— was

McReady, same

brother,

George

W.

through, four years,

promoted, step by step,

(several times immediately after battles,) lieutenant, captain, major at

and

lieut.

colonel— was

in

the actions

Roanoke, Newbern, 2d Bull Run, Chantilly, South

Mountain,

Antietam,

Fredericksburg,

Vicksburg,

Jackson, the bloody conflicts of the Wilderness, and

Cold Harbor, and afterwards around Petersburg; atone of these latter was taken prisoner, and pass'd four or five months in secesh military

at Spottsylvania,

narrowly escaping with life, from a severe from starvation and half-nakedness in the

prisons, fever,

winter.

(What

a history that 51st [134]

New

York had!

Specimen 2)a^0

Went in

out early— march'd, fought everywhere

storms at sea, nearly wreck'd— storm 'd

tramp'd hither and yon

in Virginia,

—was —

forts

night and day,

summer of '62— afterwards Kentucky and Mississippi re-enlisted was in all the engagements and cam-

—

—

paigns, as above.)

much with

strengthen and comfort myself

I

the certainty that the capacity for just

such regiments, (hundreds, thousands of them)

is in-

exhaustible in the United States, and that there

is n't

a county nor a township in the republic in

any

city

— but

could turn out, and, on occasion,

would turn out, lots of whenever wanted. As "Convui-

1

^j^^

just such typical soldiers,

have look'd over the proof-sheets of have once or preceding pages, I

twice fear'd that at best,

—nor a street

my

diary

would prove,

but a batch of convulsively written reminis-

cences.

Well, be

it

so.

actual distraction, heat,

those times.

The war

society preceding that very

word

it,

They are but parts of the smoke and excitement of itself,

with the temper of

can indeed be best described by

oonvulsiveness.

During those three years Three Years

Summ'd up

^^ ^^^j^

'

j

^^^^ ^^^^

^j^

in hospital,

hundred

camp

visitS OX

and went, as I estimate, countmg all, among from eighty thousand to a hundred thousand of the wounded and sick, as sustainer of spirit tours,

[135]

Specimen 2)ap6 and body

in

visits varied

for

some

degree, in time of need.

from an hour or two, to

with dear or

cases

critical

I

all

These

day or night;

generally watch'd

all

Sometimes took up my quarters in the hospital, and slept or watch'd there several nights in succession. Those three years consider the greatest privilege and satisfaction, (with all their feverish excitements and physical deprivations and lamentable sights,) and, of course, the most profound lesson of my life. can say that in my ministerings comprehended all, whoever came in my way, Northern or Southern, and slighted none. It arous'd and brought out and decided undream'd-of depths of emotion. It has given me my most fervent views of the true ensemble and extent of the States. While was with night.

I

1

I

I

I

wounded and

New

England

Jersey,

sick in thousands of cases from the States,

and from

York,

New

and Pennsylvania, and from Michigan, Wis-

consin, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, States,

New

I

was with more

and

all

or less from

the States,

all

North and South, without exception.

many from

the Western

I

was with

the border States, especially from Mary-

land and Virginia, and found, during those lurid years

more Union Southerners, especially Tennesseans, than is supposed. was with many rebel officers and men among our wounded, and had, and tried to cheer gave them always what them the same as any. was among the army 1862-63,

far

I

I

I

teamsters considerably, and, indeed, always found [136]

Specimen Ba^e

Among

myself drawn to them.

wounded also took

or sick, and in the contraband camps,

my way

and did what

I

whenever

in their

I

neighborhood,

could for them.

The dead

D^^'Sr

the black soldiers,

this

in

strewing the

war

— there

they

lie,

and woods and valleys of the South —Virginia, Malvern Hill and Fair

fields

Summ'd up ^nd battle-fields the Peninsula

—

— the banks of the Chickahominy—the terraces of Fredericksburg — Antietam bridge — the grisly ravines of Manassas — the bloody promenade of the Wilderness — the varieties of the strayed dead, (the Oaks

estimate of the

War

Department

march

— 15,000

inhumed by

in haste, in hitherto

at

localities

mud by

away by

all,

5,000

on the

strangers, or

unfound

graves cover'd by sand and freshets, 3,000 carried

25,000 national

and never buried

soldiers kill'd in battle

drown'd

is

— 2,000

Mississippi

caving-in of banks,

—

Vicks&c.,)— Gettysburg, the West, Southwest burg Chattanooga the trenches of Petersburg

—

—

— the

numberless

where

— the

typhoid,

battles,

camps, hospitals every-

crop reap'd by the mighty reapers,

dysentery,

inflammations

and loathsomest of all, the dead and

— and

blackest

living burial-pits,

the prison-pens of Anderson ville, Salisbury, Belle &c., (not Dante's pictured hell

and

all

its

Isle,

woes,

its

degradations, filthy torments, excelled those prisons)

— the

dead,

the dead, the [137]

At2idi

— our

dead

— or

Specimen Daija South or North, ours

finally

(all, all, all,

all,

dear to

— or East or West — Atlantic coast or Mississippi valley — somewhere they crawl'd to alone, me)

die,

in

bushes, low gullies, or on the sides of hills— (there, in

secluded spots, their skeletons, bleach'd bones, of hair,

tufts

buttons,

occasionally found yet)

fragments of clothing, are

— our

young men once so

handsome and so joyous, taken from us

— the

son

from the mother, the husband from the wife, the dear friend

from the dear friend

— the

clusters of

camp

graves, in Georgia, the Carolinas, and in Tennessee

— the single graves side,

left in

woods

or

(hundreds, thousands, obliterated)

down

floated

by the road-

—the corpses

the rivers, and caught and lodged,

(dozens, scores, floated after

the

down

the upper Potomac,

the cavalry engagements, the pursuit of Lee,

following Gettysburg) the sea

— some

lie

at the

— the general million, and the almost the States —the

teries in

perfumed with

palpable ashes' exhalation

and

shall

special

infinite

all

(the land entire saturated,

distill'd,

bottom of

in

be so forever,

Nature's in

ceme-

dead

—

their im-

chemistry

every future grain

wheat and ear of corn, and every flower that grows, and every breath we draw) not only of

Northern dead leavening Southern

soil

— — thousands,

aye tens of thousands, of Southerners, crumble to-day in

Northern earth.

—

And everywhere among these countless graves everywhere in the many soldier Cemeteries of the C138)

Specimen 2)a?0 Nation, (there are

them)

now,

— as at the time

in

I

believe, over seventy of

the vast trenches, the de-

and Southern,

positories of slain. Northern

great battles

— not

only where the

passed those years, but radiating since ful

quarters of the land

after

scathing in all

— we see, and

the trail

the peace-

may

ages yet

on monuments and gravestones, singly or in masses, to thousands or tens of thousands, the

see,

word Unknown, (In some of the cemeteries nearly all the dead are unknown. At Salisbury, N. C. for instance, the known

significant

,

are only 85, while the

unknown are

of these are buried in trenches.

A

and

12,027,

national

1

1,700

monument

has been put up here, by order of Congress, to mark the spot

— but what

ever fittingly

commemorate

Never Get "^*^®

in

that spot ?)

so good-bye to the war.

I

it

I

(and

still,

rank and

and

monument can

know not may or may be, to how have been, Others — to me the main interest found, And

WarwUi

visible, material

on

recollection,

find,)

in

the

of the armies, both sides,

file

those specimens amid the hospitals, and even

the dead on the

field.

To me

the points illustrating

the latent personal character and

eligibilities

of these

young and middle-aged men. North and South, embodied in those armies— and especially the one third or one fourth of their number, stricken by wounds or disease States, in the

two or three

millions of American

£139]

Specimen l)a?0

—

some time in the course of the contest were of more significance even than the political interests in-

at

(As so

volved.

faces death,

we get

of a race depends on

how

stands personal anguish and

and the

far

indirect traits

and asides

in Plutarch,

profounder clues to the antique world than

more formal

all its

it

it

As, in the glints of emotions under emer-

sickness.

gencies,

and

how

much

history.)

know

Future years will never

the seething hell

and the black infernal background of countless minor scenes and interiors, (not the official surface-courteousness of the Generals, not the few great battles) of the Secession war; and

— the

real

mushy

it is

war, will never get

best they should not in

the books.

In

the

influences of current times, too, the fervid

atmosphere and typical events of those years are danger of being totally forgotten.

watch'd by the side of a sick

who

could not live

many

man

in

hours.

I

have

in

at night

the hospital, one I

have seen his

eyes flash and burn as he raised himself and recurr'd to the cruelties

on his surrender'd brother, and muti-

lations of the corpse afterward.

(See in the preceding

pages, the incident at Upperville— the seventeen

were left there on the ground. After they dropt dead, no one touch'd them —all were made sure of, however. The carcasses were left for the citizens to bury or not, as they chose.) Such was the war. It was not a quadrille in a kill'd

as in the description

ball-room.

Its interior

history will not only never be [140]

Specimen 2)a?0

—

written sions,

minutiae of deeds and pas-

its practicality,

never be even suggested.

will

soldier of i862-'65,

The

North and South, with

ways, his incredible dauntlessness,

actual all

his

habits, practices,

tastes, language, his fierce friendship, his appetite,

rankness, his superb strength and animality, lawless gait,

and a hundred unnamed

camp,

I

and shades of

written — perhaps

be

say, will never

lights

must

not and should not be.

The preceding notes may glimpses into that

and

life,

furnish a

few stray

into those lurid interiors,

never to be fully convey'd to the future. The hospital part of the

drama from

recorded.

Of that many-threaded drama, with its sud-

'6i

to '65 deserves indeed to be

den and strange surprises, ecies, its

moments

its

confounding of proph-

of despair, the dread of foreign

interference, the interminable campaigns, the

mighty and cumbrous and green armies,

battles, the

the drafts and bounties

— the

immense money ex-

penditure, like a heavy-pouring constant rain

over the whole land, the gle,

bloody

last three

— with,

years of the strug-

an unending, universal mourning- wail of women,

parents, orphans

— the

centrated in those

times as South, of the

if

marrow

Army Hospitals— (it seem'd some-

the whole interest of the land. North and

was one affair

vast central hospital, and

all

the rest

but flanges)—those forming the untold

and unwritten history of the (like life's)

of the tragedy con-

war— infinitely greater

than the few scraps and distortions that are [141]

Specimen Daijs ever told or written. Think

how much, and of import-

— how much, and military, has ready been — buried eternal darkness. the grave,

ance, will be

civic

al-

in

in

Several years

^

my

diary.

I

now

resume Washington

elapse before

continued at

I

Par^^^h"^ working in the Attorney-General's department through '66 and '67, and some time afterward.

February

In

'73

1

was

stricken

down

by paralysis, gave up my desk, and migrated to Camden, New Jersey, where lived during '74 and but after that began to grow '75, quite unwell better commenc'd going for weeks at a time, even I

—

;

for

down

in

the country, to a charmingly

rural spot

along Timber Creek, twelve or

months,

recluse

and

thirteen miles from River.

the

Stafifords,

life

sort of life)

it

enters the Delaware

Domicil'd at the farmhouse of

creek and

my

where

its

near by,

I

I,

perhaps,

owe

partial

And

it

is

to

recovery (a

second wind, or semi-renewal of the lease of

from the prostration of 1874-75.

of that outdoor

life

Doubtless

in

If

the notes

could only prove as glowing to

you, reader dear, as the experience

itself

was

to me.

the course of the following, the fact of

invalidism will crop out, lytic

friends,

lived half the time along this

adjacent fields and lanes.

here that

my

(I

call

myself a half-Para-

these days, and reverently bless the Lord

no worse,) between some of the

lines

— but

I

get

ft

is

my

share of fun and healthy hours, and shall try to in[142]

— specimen Da^a dicate them.

(The

trick

is, find, to tone your low down enough, and make much of negatives, and of mere daylight and the skies.)

wants and

I

tastes

1876, '77'—

my

^®^

and early June

Entered

positiou.*

upon

there, or resting

Seated

mid-May com-

in

best places for

on

on

logs

rails,

stumps

or

nearly

all

memoranda have been

following

down. Wherever

woods

find the

'

the

jotted

summer, city or country, alone at home or traveling, must take notes (the ruling passion strong in age and disablement, and even the approach of but must not say I

go, indeed, winter or

I

—

—

it

Then underneath

yet).

the following excerpta

crossing the fs and dotting the

movements

of late years

I

—

of certain moderate

i's

am

I

fain to

foundations of quite a lesson learn'd.

exhausted what there viviality, love,

you have

After

business, politics, con-

in

— have found that none of or permanently wear — what

and so on

these finally satisfy,

remains?

is

fancy the

Nature remains; to bring out from their

woman

torpid recesses the affinities of a

man

with the open

the changes of

* Without apology have put

book

in

air, for the

the trees,

fields,

abrupt change of

the preceding pages

field

or

and atmosphere— after what

— temporary episodes, thank heaven — !

I

restore

I

my

and buoyant equilibrium of concrete outdoor Nature, the only book or human life. Who knows, (I have it in my fancy, my ambition,) but the pages now ensuing may carry ray of sun, or smell of grass or corn, or call of bird, or gleam of stars by to the bracing

permanent

reliance for sanity of

night, or snow-flakes falling fresh tired

workman

or

workwoman ?

and mystic, to denizen of heated

— or may-be

cooling breeze, or Nature's aroma, to

some

in

sick-room or prison

fever'd

[143]

mouth

city house, or

— to

or latent pulse.

serve as

Specimen 2)a?0 seasons

by

— the

sun by day and the stars of heaven

We

night.

will

begin from these convictions.

and

Literature flies so high

our notes

common is

may seem

is

so hotly spiced, that

hardly more than breaths of

or draughts of water to drink.

air,

But that

part of our lesson.

Dear, soothing, healthy, restoration-hours three confining years of paralysis strain of the

war, and

its

wounds and

As every man has Entering a

Lane

growing

in

death.

by old

mine

chest-

with dabs of moss

copious weeds

lichen,

after

the long

his hobby-liking,

nut-rails gray-green

and

after

^ ^eal farm-lane fenced

jg f^,.

^^™'

—

—

and

briers

spots athwart the heaps of stray-pick'd

stones at the

fence

— irregular paths worn characcow tracks —

bases

between, and horse and

all

accompaniments marking and scenting the neighborhood in their seasons apple-tree blossoms

teristic

—

in

— pigs,

forward April

buckwheat, and

in

August

poultry, a field of

another the long flapping tassels

of maize — and so to the pond, the expansion of the creek, the secluded-beautiful, with trees,

and such recesses and So,

To the Brook

^

still

as

my

old

vistas.

sauntering on, to the spring under

the willows glasses

young and

— musical

as

soft

clinking

— pouring a sizeable stream, thick neck, pure and clear, out from

vent where the bank arches over [M4]

like a great

its

brown

— Specimen Baije shaggy eyebrow or mouth-roof— gurgling, gurgling meaning, saying something, of course ceaselessly

—

(if

one could only translate

there, the

whole year through

oceans of mint, blackberries light

and shade

— just

How

day

— never giving out summer — choice of

in

my

in

July sun-

it,

as

sit

I

inimit-

there hot

grow into me, day keeping— the wild, just-

they and

— everything

gurgling

— but mainly the

able soft sound-gurgles of

afternoons.

— always

the place for

baths and water-baths too

after

it)

all

palpable perfume, and the dappled leaf-shadows, and all

the natural-medicinal, elemental-moral influences

of the spot.

Babble on, I

O

brook, with that utterance of thine!

too will express what

and progress,

have gather'd

I

while, at any rate.

As

way —

I

with thee, a

little

often, season

by season, thou knowest, reckest not me, be so certain? thee,

who

can

tell?)

days

now

haunt thee so

I

my

— and

native, subterranean, past

Spin and wind thy

thee.

in

— but

I

(yet

will learn

why from

— receive, copy, print from

and dwell on thee

thee.

Away An

Early

ReveiUe

then to loosen, to unstring the

yjj^^ j^q^^

curtain,

3^ tense, SO long.

carpet,

ciety"— from

sofa,

city

modern improvements and

book house,

luxuries

primitive winding, aforementioned [145]

di-

Away, from

— from

''so-

street,

and

— away

to the

wooded

creek,

Specimen Da^a with

untrimm'd bushes and turfy banks

its

— away

from ligatures, tight boots, buttons, and the whole

— from entourage of machine, studio, parlor — from tailordom fashion's clothes — from any clothes, perhaps,

cast-iron civilized store,

and

artificial

life

office,

for the

nonce, the

summer

heats advancing, there in

Away, thou

those watery, shaded solitudes.

me

(let

soul,

pick thee out singly, reader dear, and talk in

perfect freedom, negligently, confidentially,) for

day and night life

of us

all

at least, returning to the

sodden

— how

that return

is

silent

how many

Alas!

many have wander'd

savage

of us are so

so

far

jottings, taking

them

as they come,

from the heap, without particular selection. is little

consecutiveness in dates.

within nearly five or six years. pencilled

The as

the open

air,

of their copy

is

There

They run any time Each was carelessly

at the

printers will learn this to

much

first

in

away,

almost impossible.

my

But to

naked source-

— to the breast of the great

all-acceptive Mother.

one

time and place.

some vexation perhaps,

from those hastily-written

notes.

Did you ever chance to hear the midnight flight of birds passing through the air and

Birds ^

^ Midnight^

darkness overhead,

in countless armies,

changing their early or

late

summer hab-

something not to be forgotten.

itat?

It is

called

me up

just after 12 last night to [146]

A

friend

mark the

Specimen Da^^a peculiar noise of unusually

immense

north (rather late this year).

flocks migrating

shadow

In the silence,

and delicious odor of the hour, (the natural perfume belonging to the night alone,) thought it rare music. I

You could hear the

characteristic

motion

— once or

twice ''the rush of mighty wings," but often a

— sometimes

drawn out with continual calls and

velvety rustle, long

—

near

song-notes. in a

lasted from 12

It all

while the species

was

make out the

could thrush,

white-crown'd

from high

in

the

air

chirps, till

quite

and some

Once

after 3.

plainly distinguishable;

bobolink,

sparrow,

I

Wilson's

tanager,

and occasionally

came the notes of the

plover.

— month of swarming, singmating birds — the bumble-bee month — month of the flowering — (and May-month

Bees

^

^"S»

lilac

then I

my own

am

As jot this paragraph, and down towards the

birth-month).

I

out just after sunrise,

The

creek.

lights,

birds, grass birds

perfumes, melodies

and

— the

blue

robins, in every direction

the noisy, vocal, natural concert.

—

For undertones,

a neighboring wood-pecker tapping his tree, and

the distant clarion of chanticleer. earth

smells

— the

colors,

Then the

fresh-

the delicate drabs and

thin blues of the perspective.

The

bright green of

the grass has received an added tinge from the last

two

days' mildness and moisture.

silently

mounts

in

How

the sun

the broad clear sky, on his day's CM7]

Specimen Daija

How

journey!

A the

warm beams

the

come streaming

bathe

and

all,

my face.

and almost hot on

kissingly

while since the croaking of the pond-frogs and

golden dandelions the ground

endless profusion,

in

— the rosy

light-clear

my

air

with their

little

awakening

— the

as

feet,

I

saunter the

blush of budding apple-trees

emerald hue of the wheat-fields

darker green of the rye

pervading the

spotting

wild violets, with their blue eyes

tooking up and saluting

wood-edge

the

The white cherry and

everywhere.

— the

pear-blows

— the — the

Now

white of the dogwood blossoms.

first

— a warm

elasticity

— the cedar-bushes profusely deck'd brown apples — the summer fully

convocation of black birds, garru-

some

gathering on

tree,

and

making the hour and place noisy as sit near. Nature marches in procession, in Later,

sec-

lous flocks of them,

I

—

tions,

like

much

for

days

me, and

still

do.

But

All

for the last

''bumble," as the children

call

walk, or hobble, from the farmhouse

creek,

I

by old

two

rails,

with

down

As

to the

rails,

many

splits,

splinters,

choice habitat of those crooning,

they swarm and dart and

As

breaks,

Up and down and by and between

hairy insects.

myriads.

him.

traverse the before-mention'd lane, fenced

holes, &c., the

these

have done

has been the great wild bee, the humble-

it

bee, or I

the corps of an army.

I

wend

slowly along,

fly in countless I

am

often ac-

companied with a moving cloud of them. [148]

They

Specimen

my

play a leading part in

2)ai?0

morning, midday or sun-

and often dominate the landscape in never before thought of fill the long lane,

set rambles,

a

way

—

1

not by scores or hundreds only, but by thousands.

Large and vivacious and swift, with wonderful

mentum and

now and

a loud swelling, perpetual hum, varied

then by something almost

they dart to and

and

other,

me

a

(little

chasing each

things as they are,) conveying to

and movement.

season? or what

sense of strength, beauty,

Are they

in

their

mating

the meaning of this plenitude,

is

As walk'd, thought was folio w'd by a particular swarm, but upon

swiftness, eagerness, display? I

like a shriek,

in rapid flashes,

fro,

new and pronounc'd

vitality

mo-

observation

I

saw

that

changing swarms, one

As

write,

I

tree — the

I

am

it

I

was

I

a rapid succession of

after another.

seated under a big wild-cherry

warm day

temper'd by

partial clouds

a fresh breeze, neither too heavy

here

I

sit

long and long, envelop'd

musical drone of these bees, ing to and fro about

with

light

nor light

flitting,

in

and

— and

the deep

balancing, dart-

me by hundreds — big

fellows

yellow jackets, great glistening swelling

stumpy heads and gauzy wings— humming their perpetual rich mellow boom. (Is there not a hint in it for a musical composition, of which it should be the back-ground? some bumble-bee symbodies,

phony?)

How

all

it

way most needed

;

nourishes,

the open [149]

air,

lulls

me,

in

the

the rye-fields, the

Specimen Da^a The

apple orchards. less

sun, breeze,

in

two days have been

last

temperature, and everything;

never two more perfect days, and

My

them wonderfully. and

my

spirit at

peace.

health

from

7 to 9,

jotting,

have enjoy'd

somewhat

is

better,

my

life is

close at hand.)

another perfect day: forenoon,

two hours envelop'd

Down

bees and bird-music. in a

I

(Yet the anniversary of the

saddest loss and sorrow of

Another

fault-

in

sound of bumblethe apple-trees and

in

neighboring cedar were three or four russet-

back'd thrushes, each singing his best, and roulading in

ways

I

never heard surpassed.

Two

hours

I

aban-

don myself to hearing them, and indolently absorbnotice has a ing the scene. Almost every bird sometimes limited to a special time in the year when it sings its best; and now is the few days Meanwhile, up and period of these russet-backs. I

—

—

down

the lane, the darting, droning, musical

ble-bees. 1

return

As

I

A

great

swarm

again for

brook under a

a beautiful object

From top

before. later,

1

am

tulip-tree, 70 feet high,

thick with the fresh verdure of

its

young maturity

— every branch, every leaf

—

perfect.

to bottom, seeking the sweet juice in the

swarms with myriads of these wild whose loud and steady humming makes an

blossoms,

it

undertone to the whole, and to hour.

entourage as

home, moving along with me as write this, two or three weeks

sitting near the

bees,

my

bum-

All of

which

I

my mood

and the

will bring to a close cise]

by ex-

:

!

Specimen Baije trading the following verses from Henry A. Beers's little

volume As

A

I

lay

yonder

in tall grass

drunken bumble-bee went past

Delirious with

honey toddy.

The golden sash about Scarce kept

it

in his

his

body

swollen belly

Distent with honeysuckle

jelly.

Rose liquor and the sweet-pea wine

Had

his soul

fill'd

with song divine;

Deep had he drunk the warm night through,

wet with dew.

His hairy thighs were Full

many an

antic

he had play'd

While the world went round through Oft had he

Some

When

lit

with thirsty

flower-cup's nectar'd sweets to

on smooth petals he would

Or over tangled stamens

And headlong else his

and shade.

sip.

slip,

trip,

in the pollen roll'd,

Crawl out quite dusted

Or

sleep

lip

heavy

feet

o'er

with gold; ^

would stumble

Against some bud, and down he'd tumble Amongst the grass there lie and grumble ;

In low, soft bass — poor maudlin bumble

As A^

les

I

journey'd to-day

in a light

w^agon

^^" ^^ twelve miles through the country,

nothing pleas'd

beauty and novelty

(I

had

me

more,

in their

homely

either never seen the

things to such advantage, or had never noticed before) than that peculiar

fruit,

yellow dangles of inch-long [151]

with

its

little

them

profuse clear-

silk or yarn, in

boundless

Specimen 2)ap0 profusion spotting the dark green cedar bushes

— the flossy

contrasting well with their bronze tufts

shreds covering the knobs

wild hair on

down by

i

over, like a shock of

On my

elfin pates.

the creek

all

ramble afterward

pluck'd one from

its

bush, and

These cedar-apples last only a while however, and soon crumble and fade. keep

shall

it.

June loth.—As

little

write, 5i p.m., here

by

*^^ creek, nothing can exceed the quiet

Si^^ts^d

Splendor and freshness around me.

indoiencies

had and

I

—

a

heavy shower, with

brief

lightning, in the middle of the day;

overhead, one of those not

uncommon

We

thunder

and

since,

yet indescrib-

able skies (in quality, not details or forms) of limpid blue, with rolling silver-fringed clouds,

For underlay, trees

dazzling sun.

der foliage — — based by the

liquid, reedy, fretful

and a pure-

in fulness of ten-

long-drawn notes of birds

mewing

of a querulous cat-

and the pleasant chippering-shriek of two kingfishers. have been watching the latter the last half hour, on their regular evening frolic over and in

bird,

I

the stream; evidently a spree of the liveliest kind.

They pursue each around, with many

other,

a jocund

whirling and wheeling

downward

ing the spray in jets of diamonds

— and then off they

swoop, with slanting wings and graceful times so near

me

I

dip, splash-

flight,

some-

can plainly see their dark-gray

feather-bodies and milk-white necks. [152]

Specimen S)a?6 June Perfume— Quail-Notes

—-the Her-

19th,

4

to 6^,

RM.— Sitting

alone

^V ^^^ creek — solitude here, but the scene bright and vivid enough — the sun shin^^^ quite a fresh wind blowing (some heavy showers last night,) the grass and jj^g^

trees looking their best

— the clare-obscure of

differ-

ent greens, shadows, half-shadows, and the dappling

glimpses of the water, through recesses

— the wild

— the

just-heard

flageolet-note of a quail near

some hylas down

by

—

pond crows cawing in the distance a drove of young hogs rooting in soft ground near the oak under which sit some come sniffing near me, and then scamper away, with grunts. And still the clear notes of fretting of

there in the

—

—

i

— the quiver of leaf-shadows over the paper as write — the sky with white clouds, and the sun well declining to the west — the swift darting

the quail

aloft,

I

of

many sand-swallows coming and

going,

their

— the odor of the cedar and oak, so palpable, as evening approaches — holes in a neighboring marl-bank

perfume, color, the bronze-and-gold of neariy ripen 'd

—

— —

wheat clover-fields, with honey-scent the wellup maize, with long and rustling leaves the. great patches of thriving potatoes, dusky green, fleck'd all over with white blossoms able oak above

me — and

— the

old,

warty, vener-

ever, mix'd

with the dual

notes of the quail, the soughing of the wind through

some near-by pines. As rise for return, 1

I

linger long to a delicious

[153]

specimen ®a?0 song-epilogue

(is it

the hermit-thrush

?)

from some

bushy recess off there in the swamp, repeated leisurely and pensively over and over again. This, to the circle-gambols of the swallows flying by dozens concentric rings in the last rays of sunset, like

in

flashes of

A

some

The

airy wheel.

durable in this pure

noon by the Pond

much more

fervent heat, but so

Ttllv After—

air

en-

— the white and

pink pond-blossoms, with great heart-

shaped leaves; the glassy waters of the creek, the banks, with dense bushery,

turesque beeches and shade and

reedy

of

call

some

turf;

and the

pic-

the tremulous,

bird from recesses, breaking the

warm,

indolent, half- voluptuous

sional

wasp, hornet, honey-bee or bumble (they

hover near I

my

hands or

face,

silence

yet annoy

;

me

an occanot, nor

them, as they appear to examine, find nothing, and

away they go) so

clear,

— the vast space of the sky overhead

and the buzzard up there

sailing his

slow

whirl in majestic spirals and discs; just over the surface of the pond,

with wjngs of ally

two

large slate-color'd dragon-flies,

lace, circling

and darting and occasion-

balancing themselves quite

quivering

all

still,

their

wings

the time, (are they not showing off for

my amusement ?)— the

pond

itself,

with the sword-

—

occasionally a shaped calamus; the water snakes flitting blackbird, with red dabs on his shoulders, as

he darts slantingly by

— the [154]

sounds that bring out

Specimen 2)a?0

shade— the quawk

the solitude, warmth, light and

— (the crickets and grasshoppers

some pond duck are mute in the noon of

first

cicadas;)

— then

heat, but at

some

hear the song of the

I

distance the rattle and

whirr of a reaping machine as the horses draw

on

it

a rapid walk through a rye-field on the opposite side

creek— (what was the yellow or light-brown bird, large as a young hen, with short neck and longstretch'd legs just saw, in flapping and awkward of the

I

flight

over there through the trees

?)

— the prevailing

delicate, yet palpable, spicy, grassy, clovery

to

my

sight

and over

nostrils;

and

and blue

encircling

all,

perfume

all,

to

my

soul, the free space of the sky, transparent

— and

hovering there

in

the west, a mass

of white-gray fleecy clouds the sailors

mackerel"

— the

sky, with

call

''

shoals of

silver swirls like locks

expanding— a vast voiceless, formless simulacrum yet maybe the most real reality and formulator of everything who knows? of toss'd hair, spreading,

—

/fug.

2^.— Reedy monotones

sounds of katydid

Katydids

—

—

I

of locust, or

hear the

latter at

and the other both day and night. thought the morning and evening warble of birds night,

I

delightful; but

I

find

sects with just as

now off,

I

can listen to these strange

much

pleasure.

A

in-

single locust

is

heard near noon from a tree two hundred feet as

I

write

—a

loud noise graded

long whirring, continued, quite in

distinct [155]

whirls,

or swinging

Specimen circles, increasing in

ing

Each

fall.

strength and rapidity up to a

and then a

certain point,

strain is

fluttering,

the

scene — gushes,

like

some

quietly taper-

continued from one to two

The locust-song

minutes.

3)ai?0

very appropriate to

is

has meaning,

is

masculine,

not sweet, but

fine old wine,

is

far better

than sweet.

But the katydid—how

One

utterances ? side

my

shall

I

describe

its

piquant

sings from a willow-tree just out-

open bedroom window, twenty yards

dis-

tant; every clear night for a fortnight past has sooth 'd

me

to sleep.

rode through a piece of

I

woods

for a

hundred rods the other evening, and heard the katydids by myriads very curious for once; but 1 like

—

better

Let

my me

on the tree. say more about the song of the

single neighbor

even to repetition;

chromatic,

a long,

locust,

tremulous

crescendo, like a brass disk whirling round and round,

emitting certain in

wave

after

wave

of notes, beginning with a

moderate beat or measure, rapidly increasing

speed and emphasis, reaching a point of great

energy and significance, and then quickly and gracefully

dropping

down and

the singing-bird

—

far

Not the melody of

out.

from

the

it;

common

musician

might think without melody, but surely having to the finer ear a harmony of

but what a swing there

round and round,

its

is

own; monotonous

in

that brassy drone,

cymballine — or

of brass quoits. [156]

—

like

the whirling

Specimen Ba^ja Sept,

The Lesson of a Tree

/.— should not 1

take either the big-

gest or the most picturesque tree to ^^^^^

^^^^

j^

^^^ ^^

j^

^^

illus-

favorites

now

before me, a fine yellow poplar, quite straight, per-

and four thick at the butt. How strong, vital, enduring! how dumbly eloquent! What suggestions of imperturbability and being, as against the human trait of mere seeming. Then the qualities, haps 90

feet high,

almost emotional, palpably

artistic, heroic,

so innocent and harmless, yet so savage.

says nothing.

How

equable serenity little

whiffet,

or snow.

all

rebukes by

it

its

of a tree; It is,

yet

tough and

weathers, this gusty-temper'd

man, that runs indoors

at a mite of rain

Science (or rather half-way science) scoffs

at reminiscence of

dryad and hamadryad, and of trees

speaking.

they don't, they do as well as most

But,

if

speaking, writing, poetry, sermons

do a great

deal better.

I

— or rather they

should say indeed that

those old dryad-reminiscences are quite as true as any, and profounder than most reminiscences

we get.

C'Cut this out," as the quack mediciners say, and keep by you.) Go and sit in a grove or woods, with one or more of those voiceless companions, and read the foregoing, and think.

One

lesson from affiliating a tree

greatest moral

lesson

anyhow from

— perhaps earth,

the

rocks,

same lesson of inherency, of what is, without the least regard to what the looker-on (the critic) supposes or says, or whether he likes or animals,

is

that

[157]

Specimen Daija dislikes.

What worse

pervades each and

all

— what more general malady

of us, our literature, education,

toward each other, (even toward ourselves,) than a morbid trouble about seems, (generally temattitude

porarily

seems

and no trouble

too,)

at

all,

or hardly

any, about the sane, slow-growing, perennial, real parts of character, books, friendship, marriage

— hu-

manity's invisible foundations and hold-together?

(As the

the nerve, the great-sympathetic,

all-basis,

the plenum within humanity, giving stamp to everything,

is

Aug. fects

on

grays, clear

necessarily invisible.) 4,

^RA/.— Lights

tree-foliage

&c.,

beams

on the

are

quilted,

rare ef-

— transparent

greens,

and grass

pomp and dazzle. The now thrown in many new places,

in

all

and shades and

sunset

seam'd, bronze-drab,

lower tree-

—

shadow'd except at this hour now flooding their young and old columnar ruggedness with strong light, unfolding to my sense new amazing features of silent, shaggy charm, the solid bark, the

trunks,

expression of harmless impassiveness, with

bulge and gnarl unreck'd before.

In

why

fables?)

with

trees,

mood,

at the old story fables, (indeed,

of people falling into love-sickness

seiz'd extatic

with the mystic realism

of the resistless silent strength in ihtx^

which

a

the revealings

of such light, such exceptional hour, such

one does not wonder

many

after all is

perhaps the

est beauty. [158]

last,

— strength,

completest, high-

;

Specimen Daije

am familiar

Trees I

— one

Oaks, (many kinds

sturdy old fellow,

vital,

with here. Black-walnuts, Sassafras,

green, bushy, five feet

Willows,

thick at the butt,

Catalpas,

sit

I

under every day),

Persimmons,

Cedars plenty,

Mountain-ash,

Tulip-trees, {Liriodendron,)

Hickories,

is

of the magnolia family

—

have seen

I

it

in

Mich-

igan

and southern

nois,

140 feet high and

Illi-

Maples,

many kinds,

Locusts, Birches,

Dogwood,

8 feet thick at the butt*;

Pine,

does not transplant well

the Elm,

best rais'd

Chestnut,

from seeds —

lumbermen

the

call

it

yellow poplar,

Aspen,

Sycamores,

Gum

Spruce,

both

trees,

sweet

and sour.

Hornbeam, Laurel,

Beeches, * There

Linden,

Holly.

is

a tulip poplar within sight of

Woodstown, which

is

twenty

feet

around, three feet from the ground, four feet across about eighteen feet up the trunk,

which

is

broken

off

about three or four

has shot out from which feet

rise

two

feet higher up.

On

from the ground.

large

enough

for,

the south side an

arm

stems, each to about ninety-one or ninety-two

Twenty-five (or more) years since the cavity and nine men at one time, ate dinner therein.

in It

the butt is

was

supposed

fifteen men could now, at one time, stand within its trunk. The severe winds of 1877 and 1878 did not seem to damage it, and the two stems send out

twelve to yearly

fume. *'

many It

is

Register,''

blossoms, scenting the entirely unprotected

^pril 15,

air

by

immediately about

other trees, on a

'7^.

[159]

hill.

it

with their sweet per-

— IVoodstown,

N. y.,

Specimen ®a?0

— Under an old black oak, glossy and green, exhaling aroma — amid a grove the Albic druids might have chosen — en-

Sept. 20.

s*d*^^

velop'd in the

warmth and

and swarms of ing of

flitting insects

many crows

stack'd in sere

—a

its

—

—

away here enjoying all. The corn,

a hundred rods

absorbing,

in solitude,

sit

noonday sun, with the harsh caw-

light of the

I

cone-shaped stacks, russet-color'd and

large field spotted thick with scarlet-gold

pumpkins

— an

adjoining one of cabbages, showing

well in their green and pearl, mottled

—

by much

light

melon patches, with their bulging ovals, and shade and great silver-streak'd, ruffled, broad-edged leaves and many an autumn sight and sound beside the distant scream of a flock of guinea-hens and pour'd over all the September breeze, with pensive cadence

—

—

—

through the tree-tops.

Another Day,

— The

ground

in

all

directions

Timber creek, as banks, has ebb'd low, and shows

strew'd with debris from a storm. I

slowly pace

its

reaction from the turbulent swell of the late equinoctial.

As look around, take account of stock I

and shrubs,

I

—weeds some

knolls, paths, occasional stumps,

with smooth'd tops, (several use as seats of rest, from I

place to place, and from one lines,)

— frequent

I

am now jotting

wild flowers,

little

shaped things, or the cardinal red of the

white,

these star-

lobelia, or

cherry-ball seeds of the perennial rose, or the

the

many-

threaded vines winding up and around trunks of trees. [i6o]

— Specimen 2)a?6 and 3.— Down every day in the solitude of the creek. A serene autumn sun and westerly Oct,

I,

2

breeze to-day (3d) as

moving

prettily

in

here, the water surface

sit

I

On

wind-ripples before me.

a

stout old beech at the edge, decayed and slanting,

almost

and leaves exploring, runs up

the stream, yet with

fallen to

life

mossy limbs, a gray squirrel, and down, flirts his tail, leaps to the ground, in its

sits

on

haunches upright as he sees me, (a Darwinian hint?) and then races up the tree again. his

Oct, winter.

^.—Cloudy and

coolish; signs of incipient

Yet pleasant here, the leaves thick-falling,

brown with them

the ground

yellows of

already; rich coloring,

hues, pale and dark-green, shades

all

from lightest to richest red—all set

and toned down by the prevailing brown of the earth and gray of the sky. So, winter is coming; and yet in my sit here amid all these fair sights and sickness. vital influences, and abandon myself to that thought, with its wandering trains of speculation. in

I

I

20,— A

Oct.

The Sky— Days and Nights

Happiness

breezy ^^^^

'

air,

clear,

day

crispy

of oxygen.

full

—dry

Out of the

beauteous miracles that en-

silent,'

velope and fuse

me—trees,

water, grass,

sunlight and early frost—the one

looking at most to-day

is

the sky.

cate, transparent blue, peculiar to

only clouds are

little

and

It

has that

I

am

deli-

autumn, and the

or larger white ones, giving

VOL. IV.—XX

ti6i]

Specimen Wa^B their All

and

still

motion to the great concave.

spiritual

through the

earlier

a pure, yet vivid blue.

day (say from 7 to 1) it keeps But as noon approaches the 1

color gets lighter, quite gray for

—then

paler for a spell,

still

till

two

or three hours

sundown— which

last

watch dazzling through the interstices of a knoll of big trees darts of fire and a gorgeous show of lightyellow, liver-color and red, with a vast silver glaze the transparent shadows, askant on the water shafts, sparkle, and vivid colors beyond all the I

—

—

paintings ever made.

seems to me mostly owing to these skies, (every now and then I have of course seen them every day think, while never really saw the skies before,) have of my life,

know what

don't

I

or

how, but

it

I

I

had

this

—may read,

I

autumn some wondrously contented hours have not say perfectly happy ones? As I

Byron just before

his death told a friend that

he had known but three happy hours during his

whole

Then

existence.

legend of the king's I

was out

there

through the

bell,

there to the

by the wood,

trees,

I

is

the old

same

point.

German While

that beautiful sunset

thought of Byron's and the

and the notion started in me that I was having a happy hour. (Though perhaps my best

bell story,

moments

I

cannot afford to break the randa. it

I

when they come charm by inditing memo-

never jot down;

just

abandon myself to the mood, and

float on, carrying

me

in its placid extasy.) [162]

I

let

Specimen Daija

What

anyhow?

happiness,

is

hours, or the like of

it?

—so

breath, an evanescent tinge?

Is this

mine? of

Thy

its

—a mere am not sure — so

impalpable I

let

me give myself the benefit of the doubt. pellucid, in

one of

Hast Thou,

azure depths, medicine for case like

(Ah, the physical shatter and troubled spirit

me

the last three years!)

mystically

now

drip

And

through the

it

dost

Thou

subtly

air invisibly

upon

me? Night of Oct, 28.

— the

parent

—The

heavens unusually trans-

by myriads—the great path

stars out

Way, with

of the Milky

its

branch, only seen of

very clear nights—Jupiter, setting

hugh hap-hazard

like a

for

splash,

in

the west, looks

and has a

little

star

companion.

Clothed in his white garments, Into the round and

Holding a Like the

little

moon

clear arena

child

•

slowly entered the brahmin,

by the hand,

with the planet Jupiter in a cloudless night-sky.

Old Hindu Poem,

— At

Early in November,

its

farther

end the lane al-

ready described opens into a broad grassy upland field

of over twenty acres, slightly sloping to the

south.

and

Here

am

effects, either

from this

yond

I

field

my

accustom'd to walk

sky views

morning or sundown. To-day soul is calm'd and expanded be-

description, the

blue arching over

for

all,

whole forenoon by the

clear

cloudless, nothing particular, [163]

a

Specimen only sky and daylight.

2)ai?0

Their soothing accompani-

ments, autumn leaves, the cool, dry

aroma

— crows

cawing

in

the

air,

buzzards wheeling gracefully and slowly

—the

occasional

murmur

the faint

distance — two far

great

up there

of the wind, sometimes

quite gently, then threatening through the trees

gang of farm-laborers loading corn-stalks sight, and the patient horses waiting. Such a play of colors and Colors

A

lines of the far horizon

tinged edge of the landscape loses

As

I

in a field in

lights, different

gg^sQpg^ different hours of the

Contrast

—

day—the

where the itself in

faint-

the sky.

slowly hobble up the lane toward day-close, an

incomparable sunset shooting

and gold,

shaft after

shaft,

molten sapphire

through the ranks of

the long-leaved corn, between

^Another Day.

in

me and

the west.

— The rich dark green of the

tulip-

and the oaks, the gray of the swamp-willows, the dull hues of the sycamores and black-walnuts, the emerald of the cedars (after rain,) and the light trees

yellow of the beeches.

The forenoon leaden and November

8,

cloudy, not cold

^^ ^^^^ ^^^ indicating both.

down

As

1

hobble

by the silent pond, how different from the excitement amid which, in the cities, millions of people are now waiting news of yesterday's Presidential election, or receiving and here and

[164]

sit

Specimen 2)a^6 discussing the result

—

this secluded

in

place un-

unknown.

cared-for,

Nov. 14,— As

^^ Crows

sit

here by the creek, rest-

'"^ ^^^^^

^y ^^"^'

me from

the sun.

warm languor bathes No sound but a cawing

I

^

of crows, and no motion but their black flying figures

from over-head, reflected

in

the mirror of the pond

below. Indeed a principal feature of the scene to-day

is

these crows, their incessant cawing, far or near, and

and processions moving from

their countless flocks

and

place to place,

at

times almost darkening the

with their myriads. As the bank, far

I

I

sit

a

moment

air

by of them

writing this

see the black, clear-cut reflection

below, flying through the watery looking-glass,

by ones, twos,

or long strings. All last night

the noises from their great roost

in

I

heard

a neighboring

wood.

One Day onThe Sea-Beach

bright

December midday

coffee love,

I

^P^"* down on the New Jersey sea-shore, reaching it by a little more than an hour's railroad trip over the old

lantic.

lately

Camden and At-

had started betimes, fortified by nice strong and a good breakfast (cook'd by the hands I I

my dear sister Lou's — how much better it makes

the victuals taste, and then assimilate, strengthen

you,

perhaps

afterwards.)

make the whole day comfortable Five or six miles at the [165]

last,

our track

Specimen 2)a?0 meadows, intersected by lagoons, and cut up everywhere by watery runs. The sedgy perfume, delightful to my nostrils, reminded me of *' the mash " and South Bay of my enter'd a broad region of salt grass

native island. till

could have journey'd contentedly

I

night through these

From

half-past

the beach, or

till

1 1

2

flat I

and odorous

was

nearly

all

sea-prairies.

the time along

of the ocean, listening to

in sight

its

hoarse murmur, and inhaling the bracing and wel-

come

breezes.

First,

a rapid five-mile drive over the

hard sand — our carriage in

it.

Then

after

hours to spare)

I

wheels hardly made dents

dinner (as there were nearly

walk'd off

in

two

another direction,

met or saw a person,) and taking possession of what appear'd to have been the reception-room of an old bath-house range, had a broad expanse of view all to myself quaint, refreshing, unimpeded (hardly

—

—

a dry area of sedge and Indian grass immediately before and around

simple,

Distant vessels, and the

space.

unornamented

far-off,

just visible

smoke of an inward bound steamer; more ships, brigs, schooners, in sight, most of them

trailing

plainly,

with every

The

me — space,

sail

set to the firm

and steady wind.

attractions, fascinations there are in sea

shore!

How

one dwells on

What

their simplicity,

and even

by those indirecThat spread of waves and tions and directions ? gray-white beach, salt, monotonous, senseless vacuity!

is it in

us, arous'd

—

such an entire absence of

art,

[166]

books,

talk,

elegance

Specimen S)a?0

— so indescribably comforting, even — grim, yet so delicate-looking, so

this winter spiritual

—

strik-

ing emotional, impalpable depths, subtler than the poems, paintings, music, heard.

(Yet

me

let

be

fair,

I

day all

have ever read, seen,

perhaps

it

is

because

I

have read those poems and heard that music.)

^

Even

^^

^o

Fancies

had the fancy, the wish, write a piece, perhaps a poem, about as a boy,

— that suggesting,

the sea-shore line, contact,

— that

I

dividing

junction, the solid marrying the liquid

curious,

lurking

something,

(as

doubtless

every objective form finally becomes to the subjective spirit,) sight,

which means

grand as that

is

far

more than

— blending the

its

real

mere first and ideal,

and each made portion of the other. Hours, days, in my Long Island youth and early manhood, haunted the shores of Rockaway or Coney Island, or I

away

east to the

Hamptons

or Montauk.

Once, at

the latter place, (by the old lighthouse, nothing but sea-tossings in sight in every direction as far as the

remember well, felt that must one day write a book expressing this liquid, mystic theme. Afterward, recollect, how it came to me eye could reach,)

I

I

I

I

that instead of any special lyrical or epical or literary

attempt, the sea-shore shoula be an invisible influence, a pervading gauge and tally for me, in my composition. I

am

(Let

me

not sure but

I

give a hint here to

young writers.

have unwittingly followed out the [167]

Specimen Dai?^ same

with other powers besides sea and shores

rule

— avoiding them,

in

the

way

of any dead set at

poetizing them, as too big for formal handling satisfied

if

I

could indirectly

and fused, even

if

show

only once, but

— quite

we have met enough — that we that

have really absorbed each other and understand each other.)

There tervals,

is

a dream, a picture, that for years at in-

(sometimes quite long ones, but surely again,

in time,)

has come noiselessly up before me, and

really believe, fiction as

my

practical

shaped and

life

has enter'd largely into

it is,

— certainly

colored them.

I

into

It is

my

and

writings,

nothing more or

less

than a stretch of interminable white-brown sand,

hard and smooth and broad, with the ocean perpetually,

grandly, rolling in upon

it,

with slow-measured

sweep, with rustle and hiss and foam, and

thump I

as of low bass drums.

say, has risen before

times

I

Thoma?

at times for years.

thirty-five years ago, in

^^^^' ^^

a

This scene, this picture,

wake at night and can hear and see

Some of

me

many

Tammany

it

Some plainly.

New

York

which happen 'd to be-

Hall, of

place

I

was then a frequenter, 2*°,?*°^!^'''*';^ come quite well acquainted with Thomas ^ ^ HaU, Philadelphia, Paine

I

most intimate chum, and certaluly his later years' very frequent companion, a remarkably fine old man, Col. Fellows, who may yet be remembered by some stray

Sunday. Jan. 28. •77. for 140th anmversary ^f

Paiue's perhaps *^ "^

[168]

Specimen Da^ja relics I

of that period and spot.

If

you

will first give a description of the

He was

tall,

will

allow me,

Colonel himself

of military bearing, aged about 78,

I

should think, hair white as snow, clean-shaved on the face, dress'd very neatly, a tail-coat of blue cloth

with metal buttons, buff vest, pantaloons of drab color,

and

and wrists showing the

his neck, breast

whitest of linen.

Under

circumstances, fine

all

man-

good but not profuse talker, his wits still about him, balanced and live and undimm'd as ever. He kept pretty fair health, though so old. For employment for he was poor he had a post as constable of some of the upper courts. used to think him very picturesque on the fringe of a crowd holding a tall staff, with his erect form, and his suners

;

a

fully

—

—

I

perb, bare, thick-hair'd,

closely-cropt white head.

The judges and young lawyers, with

whom

he was

ever a favorite, and the subject of respect, used to

him Aristides. It was the general opinion among them that if manly rectitude and the instincts of absolute justice remain'd vital anywhere about New York City Hall, or Tammany, they were to be found in Col. Fellows. He liked young men, and enjoy'd to leisurely talk with them over a social glass of toddy, after his day's work, (he on these occasions never drank but one glass,) and it was at reiterated call

meetings of this kind

in

old

of those days, that he told Paine. At

Tammany's back parlor me much about Thomas

one of our interviews he gave [169]

me

a

minute

Specimen IDn^s account of Paine's sickness and death.

from those friend,

talks,

was and am

I

short,

In

satisfied that

my

old

with his mark'd advantages, had mentally,

morally and emotionally gauged the author of Com-

mon

me

and besides giving

Sense,

a

good

portrait

of his appearance and manners, had taken the true

measure of

his interior character.

Paine's practical demeanor, and retical belief, lish

was

much

of his theo-

a mixture of the French

and Eng-

schools of a century ago, and the best of both.

Like most old-fashion'd people, he drank a glass or

two every

day, but

was no

tippler,

He

alone being a drunkard.

let

nor intemperate, lived simply

well — was

economically, but quite

and

always cheery

and courteous, perhaps occasionally a little blunt, having very positive opinions upon politics, religion, and so forth. That he labor'd well and wisely for the States in the trying period of their parturition,

and

in

me no

the seeds of their character, there seems to question.

our Union

pendence

is

—

I

dare not say

how much

owning and enjoying to-day — its

tice of radical

ardent belief

human

rights

in,

of

what

its

inde-

and substantial prac-

— and the

severance of

government from all ecclesiastical and superstitious dominion dare not say how much of all this is owing to Thomas Paine, but am inclined to think a good portion of it decidedly is. its

—

I

I

But

I

was not going

eulogium of the man.

either into an analysis or I

wanted

[170]

to carry

you back

Specimen 2)a^0 you by indirection a and also to ventilate a very earnmoment's glance believe authentic opinion, nay conviction, est and a generation or two, and give

—

I

of that time, the fruit of the interviews tioned,

I

have men-

and of questioning and cross-questioning,

my

best information since, that

Thomas

Paine had a noble personality, as exhibited

in pres-

clench'd by

ence, face, voice, dress, manner, and call'd his

and

atmosphere and magnetism, especially the

years of his

later

life.

am

I

sure of

of his decease, the absolute fact life,

every man,

woman and

States

some extent

— and

is

the foul

that as he lived a

He served

became him. Union with most precious to

Of

he died calmly and philo-

after its kind,

sophically, as

is

it.

about the circumstances

foolish fictions yet told

good

what may be

service

—a

the

embryo

service that

our thirty-eight

child in

receiving the benefit of

one here cheerfully, reverently throw my pebble on the cairn of his memory. As we all know, the season demands or rather, will to-day

I

for

—

it

ever be out of season?

— that

America learn to

better dwell on her choicest possession, the legacy

of her good and faithful serve their fame, that she

fail

if

men— that

unquestion'd

—

she well pre-

or,

if

need be,

not to dissipate what clouds have

truded on that fame, and burnish brighter, continually.

[171]

it

in-

newer, truer and

Specimen Ba^a

— From

Feb. 3, '77.

A Two-

^i^g

4 to 6 p.m. crossing

my Cam-

Delaware, (back again at

den home,) unable to make our landing,

s^i

through the

and

and war,

is

our boat stanch and strong

but old and sulky, and poorly

skilfully piloted,

minding her helm.

ice;

{Power, so important in poetry

also first point of

a winter steam-

all in

with long stretches of ice-packs to tackle.)

boat,

two hours we bump'd and beat

For over

but

invisible ebb, sluggish

irresistible, often

us long distances against our of dusk, as

I

In

will.

look'd around,

I

arctic,

tended, depressing scene. Everything

broken, but sight.

The

some big

and south,

first

tinge

grim-ex-

was yet plainly

ice, ice, ice,

and no

cakes,

the

carrying

thought there could

not be presented a more chilling,

visible; for miles north

about, the

clear

mostly

water

in

shores, piers, surfaces, roofs, shipping,

A

mantled with snow.

faint

winter vapor hung a

accompaniment around and over the endless whitish spread, and gave it just a tinge of steel and brown. fitting

Feb.

6.— As

I

cross

home

in the 6 p.m.

the transparent shadows are leisurely falling,

filled

The

far,

ice,

On

the shores, near

the glow of just-lit gas-clusters at intervals.

hummocks, sometimes floatthrough which our boat goes crunching. permeated by that peculiar evening haze,

sometimes

ing fields,

The

everywhere with

slightly slanting, curiously sparse

but very large, flakes of snow.

and

boat again,

light

in

[172]

specimen Da^a which sometimes renders quite

right after sunset,

distant objects so distinctly.

Feb, Spring

70.—The

jpg^ Qf ^

chirping, almost sing-

to-day.

J3JJ.J

Then

ming about the open window in the sun. In the soft rose and pale gold of the II,

—

Feb.

declining light, this beautiful evening, first

hum and preparation

faint — whether

insects,

on a

noticed a

I

honey-bees spirting and hum-

^^^^P'^ ^f

Recreations

first

I

rail

in

heard the

I

of awakening spring

—very

the earth or roots, or starting of

know not— but it was audible, as lean'd (I am down in my country quarters awhile,) I

and look'd long

western horizon.

at the

came

forth

great Orion; and a

little

the east, Sirius, as the shadows deepen 'd,

And

in dazzling splendor.

Turning to

to the northeast the big Dipper, standing on end.

20.— k

and pleasant sundown hour at the pond, exercising arms, chest, my whole body, by a tough oak sapling thick as my wrist, twelve Feb,

feet air.

its

high

solitary

— pulling and

After

I

pushing, inspiring the good

wrestle with the tree awhile,

young sap and

I

can

feel

up out of the me from crown to Then for addition and var-

virtue welling

ground and tingling through toe, like health's wine. iety

I

launch forth

in

my

vocalism; shout declama-

tory pieces, sentiments, sorrow, anger, &c., from

the stock poets or plays

— or

inflate

sing the wild tunes and refrains [173]

1

my

lungs and

heard of the blacks

Specimen Wa^B

down

South, or patriotic songs

make the echoes

I

learn'd in the army.

As the twilight fell, in a pause of these ebullitions, an owl somewhere the other side of the creek sounded too-oo-ooOO'OO, soft and pensive (and fancied a little sarcastic) I

ring,

I

tell

you!

I

Either to applaud the

repeated four or five times.

negro songs

— or

perhaps an ironical

comment on

the sorrow, anger, or style of the stock poets.

How is One o the

that in

gomeness of

all

the serenity and lone-

solitude,

away

I

amid have

mountain

still-

off here

the hush of the forest, alone, or as

Kinks

found ness,

it

one

is

in prairie wilds, or

never entirely without the instinct of

looking around,

(1

never am, and others

tell

me

the

same of themselves, confidentially,) for somebody to appear, or start up out of the earth, or from behind some tree or rock ? Is it a lingering, inherited remains of man's primitive wariness, from the wild

animals? or from his savage ancestry not at thing

all

nervousness or

unknown were

fear.

possibly

Nay,

bushes, or solitary places. there

is

— some Feb,

An

After-

noon

— Last

^^^ ^^^^^

Seems

as

lurking it

is

if

in

It is

somethose

quite certain

unseen presence.

vital

22,

back?

far

'

^jjj

night and to-day rainy

mid-afternoon, '

when

the

wind chopp'd round, the clouds swiftly drew off like curtains, the clear appear'd, and with it the fairest, grandest, most wondrous

Scene

[174]

Specimen rainbow

I

ever saw,

2)ai20

complete, very vivid at

all

its

earth-ends, spreading vast effusions of illuminated haze, violet,

yellow,

drab-green, in

and

directions

all

overhead, through which the sun beam'd

— an

inde-

so gorgeous had never witness'd soft, before. Then its continuance: a full hour pass'd before the scribable utterance of color

such as

yet so

last of

I

those earth-ends disappear'd.

hind was little

all

spread

in

The sky be-

translucent blue, with

To

white clouds and edges.

filling,

light,

many

these a sunset,

dominating the esthetic and soul senses,

sumptuously, tenderly,

full.

I

end

this note

by the

pond, just light enough to see, through the evening

shadows, the western reflections

in its

with inverted figures of

trees.

surface,

water-mirror I

hear

now

and then the flup of a pike leaping out, and rippling the water.

April

6.

— Palpable spring indeed, or the

indications of

Opening

it.

I

am

sitting in bright

sunshine, at the edge of the creek, the surface just rippled

by the wind.

morning freshness, negligence.

two

kingfishers sailing,

All is solitude,

For companions

my

winding, darting, dipping,

sometimes capriciously separate, then flying together. hear their guttural twittering again and I

again; for awhile nothing but that peculiar sound.

As noon approaches other birds warm up. The reedy notes of the robin, and a musical passage of [175]

specimen 2)a?0 two

one a

parts,

other birds I

To which

cannot place.

I

just hear

clear delicious gurgle,

one low purr

it,)

is

with several join'd, (yes,

from some

at intervals

The

murmur of a pretty stiff breeze now and then through the trees. Then a poor little dead leaf, long frostbound, whirls from somewhere up aloft in one wild impatient hylas at the pond-edge.

escaped freedom-spree then dashes closely

and

down

their wrinkled

largely

yet

are

trees

space and sunlight, and

in

which hold

to the waters,

and soon drown

it

sibilant

The bushes

out of sight.

but

bare,

yellow leaves of

beeches

the

it

have

last season's foliage

frequent cedars and pines yet green, and

left,

the grass not without proofs of coming fullness.

And over

all

a wonderfully fine

dome

of clear blue,

the play of light coming and going, and great fleeces

swimming so

of white clouds

The The Comthe SoU

here,

soil,

g^^^ ^^Q '

"^^

'

f^^' t^

— the

^^5

j

others pen-and-ink the

sometimes

choose the

try)

common

— but

soil for

rain-shower at night and the

morning

out of the ground

little

let

—

fresh smell next

start

^jj.^

—

theme naught else. The brown soil (just between winter-close and opening spring

and vegetation)

grass,

too

silently.

— the

— the red worms wriggling

dead leaves, the incipient and the latent life underneath the effort to something already in shelter'd spots some

—

—

flowers

— the

distant emerald [176]

show

of winter

Specimen wheat and the

rye-fields

2)ai?0

— the yet naked

clear interstices, giving prospects

hidden

trees, in

with

sunnmer

—the tough fallow and the plow-team, and the stout encouragement — and boy whistling to his horses for

there the dark fat earth in

long slanting stripes

upturn 'd.

A Little Later—Bright Weather, —An

un-

Birds and

usual melodiousness, these days, (last of

and Birds

^P^''

birds

^"^ ;

^^^^t

indeed

^f May,) from the blackall

sorts of birds, darting,

whistling, hopping or perch'd on trees.

Never before have I seen, heard, or been in the midst of, and got so flooded and saturated with them and their performances, as this current month. Such oceans, such successions of them. those

I

Let

me make

a

list

find here:

Blackbirds (plenty),

Meadow-larks (plenty),

Ring doves,

Cat-birds (plenty),

Owls,

Cuckoos,

Woodpeckers,

Pond snipes

King-birds,

Cheewinks,

Crows Wrens,

Quawks, Ground robins,

Kingfishers,

Ravens,

Quails,

Gray

Turkey-buzzards,

Eagles,

Hen-hawks,

High-holes,

(plenty),

VOL. IV.— la.

[177]

snipes,

(plenty),

of

Specimen TDa^B Yellow-birds,

Herons,

Thrushes,

Tits,

Reed

Woodpigeons.

birds,

Early

came the

Bluebirds,

Meadow-lark,

Killdeer,

White-bellied swallow.

Plover,

Sandpiper,

Robin,

Wilson's thrush,

Woodcock,

Flicker.

May

m

hts*^^^

21.

— Back

in

Camden.

Again com-

mencing one of those unusually

trans-

parent, full-starr'd, blue-black nights, as if

to

may

show

that

be, there

can outvie

however lush and pompous the day is

something

The

it.

rarest,

left in

the not-day that

finest

sample of long-

drawn-out clear-obscure, from sundown to 9 o'clock. I went down to the Delaware, and cross'd and cross'd.

west.

Venus like blazing silver well up in the The large pale thin crescent of the new moon,

half an hour high, sinking languidly under a barsinister of cloud,

overhead. the south.

A

and then emerging.

faint fragrant

Arcturus right

sea-odor wafted up from

The gloaming, the temper'd

coolness,

with every feature of the scene, indescribably soothing and tonic

— one of those hours that give hints to

the soul, impossible to put in a statement.

where would be any food [178]

for spirituality

(Ah,

without

Specimen Baije The vacant spaciousness

night and the stars?)

the

air,

of

and the veil'd blue of the heavens, seem'd

miracles enough.

As the night advanced it changed its spirit and garments to ampler stateliness. was almost conI

scious of a definite presence. Nature silently near.

The great its coils

constellation of the Water-Serpent stretch'd

down

with outspread wings was flying

Way.

The Swan

over more than half the heavens.

the Milky

there

The northern Crown, the Eagle, Lyra, all up in their places. From the whole dome shot

down

points of light, rapport with me, through the

clear blue-black.

animal

life,

All

the usual sense of motion,

seem'd discarded, seem'd a

fiction;

all

a cu-

rious power, like the placid rest of Egyptian gods,

took possession, none the palpable.

Earlier

I

darting

yon over the

river;

bats, balancing in

their

black forms

now

but

they

alto-

and the moon Alertness and peace lay calmly couching

gether disappear'd.

had gone.

potent for being im-

had seen many

the luminous twilight, hither and

less

The evening

star

together through the fluid universal shadows.

Aug. 26.— Bright has the day been, and my spirits an equal for^ando.

Then comes the

inexpressibly pensive, with

Venus

its

own

night, different,

tender and tem-

west with a voluptuous dazzle unshown hitherto this summer. Mars rises early, and the red sulky moon, two days past her full Jupiter at night's meridian, and the long per'd splendor.

lingers in the

;

[179]

specimen Daija curling-slanted Scorpion stretching

view in the Mars walks the heavens lord-

south, Aretus-neck'd.

now

paramount

;

all

through this month

after

supper and watch for him

up

midnight to take another look

at

Justre.

(1

full

;

go out

sometimes getting at his unparalleled

see lately an astronomer has

through the

1

made out

new Washington telescope that Mars has

certainly

one moon, perhaps two.)

but near

in

Pale and distant,

the heavens, Saturn precedes him.

Large,

placid

summer

mulleins, as

ad-

MuUeins

vauces,

MuUeins

greenish-drab color, growing everywhere in

in their

velvety in

the fields

— at

broad-leav'd low

texture,

first

of a light

earth's big rosettes

cluster-plants, eight, ten,

—

plentiful on the fallow twenty leaves to a plant twenty-acre lot, at the end of the lane, and especially

— then close to the ground, but soon springing up — leaves as broad as my hand, and the lower ones twice as long — so fresh the morning — stalks now four or and dewy by the

ridge-sides of the fences

in

five,

even seven or eight think the mullein a

grown

feet high.

The

farmers,

I

find,

mean unworthy weed, but

I

have

to a fondness for

it.

Every object has

its

lesson, enclosing the suggestion of everything else

— and

lately

I

sometimes think

all is

concentrated for

me in these hardy, yellow-flower'd weeds. As come I

down

the lane early in the morning,

their soft wool-like fleece

I

pause before

and stem and broad

[i8o]

leaves,

Specimen

with countless diamonds.

glittering

summers now, they and

three

together

them,

2)aij6

;

1

have

such long intervals

at

musing— and woven with

hours and moods of sane or sick

spirit,

partial

I

Annually

silently returned

among of so many

stand or the

for

rest,

sit

rehabilitation

here as near at peace as

— of

it

my

can be.

The axe of the wood-cutter, the measured Distant

tJ^^J of ^ single threshing-flail, the

crow-

ing of chanticleer in the barn-yard, (with invariable responses from other barn-yards,)

lowing of

wind

cattle

— but most of

— through the

all,

and the

or far or near, the

high tree-tops, or through low

bushes, laving one's face and hands so gently, this

balmy-bright noon, the coolest for a longtime, (Sept. 2)

—

I

will not call

firm, sane,

giving

there

sighing, for to

me

it is

always a

cheery expression, through a monotone,

many

delicate.

it

varieties, or swift or slow, or

The wind

— how

in

sibilant.

the patch of pine

Or

at sea,

I

dense or

woods

can imagine

off it

moment, tossing the waves, with spirits of foam flying far, and the free whistle, and the scent of the salt and that vast paradox somehow with all its action and restlessness conveying a sense of eternal this

—

rest.

Other Adjuncts,— ^\\\ the sun and the

and these times.

moon

here

As never more wonderful by day,

the gorgeous orb imperial, so vast, so ardently, lovingly hot

— so never a more glorious moon of nights, C181]

Specimen 3)a?0 especially the last three or four.

too — Mars never before ing-large,

say

—

is

The

great planets

so flaming bright, so flash-

with slight yellow tinge, (the astronomers

it

true?

past century)

— nearer

— and

anytime the

to us than

well up, lord Jupiter, (a

while since close by the moon)

— and

in

little

the west,

sun sinks, voluptuous Venus, now languid and shorn of her beams, as if from some divine after the

excess.

Sunday, Aug, 2y.— Another day quite

A

Sun-

fj.Q,jj

Nakedness

mark'd prostration and pain.

seems indeed as

fields, in

down

the good

Nature — open,

It

peace and nutriment

if

from heaven subtly slowly hobble

free

into

filter

me

as

I

these country lanes and across

air

— as

voiceless,

I

sit

here in solitude with

mystic, far removed, yet

merge myself in the scene, in the perfect day. Hovering over the clear am sooth'd by its soft gurgle in one brook-water, place, and the hoarser murmurs of its three-foot fall in another. Come, ye disconsolate, in whom any palpable, eloquent Nature.

I

I

latent eligibility

creek-shore, (July

is left

and wood and

and August,

'77,)

they begin to make a seclusion

— come get the sure virtues of have

field. I

new man

Two months

absorbed them, and of me.

Every day,

— every day at least two or three hours

freedom, bathing, no

talk,

books, no manners. [182]

no bonds, no

dress,

of

no

Specimen Bai^a Shall

tell

I

you, reader, to what

ready much-restored health? That

I

my

attribute

I

al-

have been almost

two years, off and on, without drugs and medicines, and daily

in

the open

air.

summer

Last

one side by

ticularly secluded little dell off

originally a large dug-out marl-pit, fill'd,

with bushes,

found a par-

I

trees, grass, a

now

my creek,

abandon'd,

group of willows,

a straggling bank, and a spring of delicious water

running right through the middle of three

little

Here

cascades.

I

it,

with two or

retreated every hot day,

and follow it up this summer. Here realize the meaning of that old fellow who said he was seldom 1

less alone

than

when

so close to Nature close to me.

By

;

alone.

Never before did

I

get

never before did she come so

old habit,

I

pencill'd

down from

time to time, almost automatically, moods, sights, hours,

tints

and

outlines,

on the spot.

Let

me

specially record the satisfaction of this current fore-

noon, so serene and primitive, so conventionally exceptional, natural.

An hour or so after breakfast wended my way down to the recesses of the aforesaid dell, which and I

I

had all to ourselves. A light southwest wind was blowing through the tree-tops. It was just the place and time for my Adamic air-bath and flesh-brushing from head to foot. So hanging clothes on a rail near by, keeping old broadbrim straw on head and easy shoes on feet, First havn't had a good time the last two hours certain thrushes, cat-birds, &c.,

I

!

[183]

Specimen Wa^B with the sides, in

till

rasping arms, breast,

stiflf-elastic bristles

— then partially bathing of the running brook — taking

they turn'd scarlet

the clear waters

many rests and pauses every few minutes now

everything very leisurely, with

— stepping about barefooted

and then in some neighboring black ooze, for unctuous mud-bath to my feet a brief second and third

—

rinsing in the crystal running waters

the fragrant towel the turf up and casional

down

negligent promenades on

in

the sun, varied with oc-

and further

rests,

— sometimes

frictions of

the bristle-

from place to place, as

my portable chair with my range is quite exten-

hundred

rods, feeling quite secure

brush

me

— slow

— rubbing with

sive here, nearly a

carrying

from intrusion, (and that indeed

ous about,

if it

I

am

not at

all

nerv-

accidentally happens).

As walk'd slowly over the grass, the sun shone out enough to show the shadow moving with me. Somehow seemed to get identity with each and I

I

every thing around me,

in its condition.

Nature was

and was also. It was too lazy, soothing, and joyous-equable to speculate about. Yet might have thought somehow in this vein: Perhaps the inner never-lost rapport we hold with naked,

I

I

earth,

light,

air,

trees,

&c.,

is

not to be realized

through eyes and mind only, but through the whole

which will not have blinded or bandaged any more than the eyes. Sweet, sane, still Nakedness in Nature! ah if poor, sick, prurient

corporeal body,

I

—

[184]

Specimen Da^e might

know you once

humanity

in

more!

not nakedness then indecent?

Is

inherently.

your

cities

It is

No, not

your thought, your sophistication,

your

fear,

really

respectability,

that

indecent.

is

There come moods when these clothes of ours are not only too irksome to wear, but are themselves indecent.

Perhaps indeed he or she to

free exhilarating extasy of

never been eligible (and are!) has not really

nakedness

how many

whom

the

Nature has

in

thousands there

known what

purity

is

— nor

what faith or art or health really is. (Probably the whole curriculum of first-class philosophy, beauty, heroism, form, illustrated by the old Hellenic race

—

the highest civilization in

height and deepest depth

those departments

known

— came from

to

their

natural and religious idea of Nakedness.)

Many

such hours, from time to time, the

two summers

—

attribute

I

my

last

partial rehabilitation

Some good people may think it a feeble or half-crack'd way of spending one's time and thinking. May be it is. largely to them.

Sept.

^

®

and

^>aks^

5,

sheltered

I

'77.— \ write

this,

11

a.m.

under a dense oak by the bank.

where have taken refuge from a sudden came down here, (we had sulky drizzles all I

rain.

I

the morning, but an hour ago a

lull,) for

mention'd daily and simple exercise

— to

pull

I

the before-

am

fond of

on that young hickory sapling out there [185]

—

Specimen 2)a?6 to

sway and

— haply

yield to

to get

and

elastic fibre

into

its

tough-limber upright stem

my

some

old sinews

clear sap.

I

of

its

stand on the turf and

take these health-pulls moderately and at intervals for nearly

an hour, inhaling great draughts of fresh

Wandering by the creek, naturally favorable spots where lug with me and use for more

air.

I

I

At other spots convenient

I

I

have three or four

rest —besides a chair

deliberate occasions.

have selected, besides

the hickory just named, strong and limber boughs of beech or holly, in easy-reaching distance, for natural gymnasia, for arms, I

can soon

feel

trunk-muscles.

the sap and sinew rising through me,

mercury to heat.

like

chest,

my

I

hold on boughs or slender

and shade, wrestle and know the with their innocent stalwartness (Or virtue thereof passes from them into me.

trees caressingly there in the sun

may be we aware of it But big oak

interchange

than

all

now

— may be the trees are more

ever thought.)

pleasantly imprisoned here under the

— the

with leaden

I

—

rain

dripping,

and the sky cover'd pond on one

clouds — nothing but the

and the other a spread of grass, spotted with the sound the milky blossoms of the wild carrot yet of an axe wielded at some distant wood-pile in this dull scene, (as most folks would call it,) side,

—

why am

I

—

so (almost) happy here and alone

would any the charm?

intrusion,

But

am

I

even from people alone? [186]

I

?

Why

like, spoil

Doubtless there comes

:

!

Specimen ®a?0 a time

— perhaps

has come to

me — when

one through his whole being, and pronouncedly

feels

it

the emotional part, that identity between himself subjectively and Nature objectively

which Schelling

and Fichte are so fond of pressing.

know

not, but

moods

clear

I

How

often realize a presence here

1

am

certain of

it,

is

it

—

I

in

and neither chemistry

nor reasoning nor esthetics will give the least ex-

two summers it has been strengthening and nourishing my sick body and soul,

planation.

as

thy

All

the past

Thanks, invisible physician,

never before.

silent delicious

thy waters and thy trees,

Quintette ^j^^

have been kept by the

I

shelter of

and comfortable, to the I

have

the banks, the grass, the

and e'en the weeds

While

A

thy day and night,

medicine, airs,

for

which

I

of the drops

mood

will give

under

great oak, (perfectly dry

rattle

pencill'd off the

quintette,

my

rain

all

around,)

of the hour in a

little

you

At vacancy with Nature, Acceptive and at ease, Distilling the present hour,

Whatever, wherever

And

it is.

over the past, oblivion.

Can you get hold you like it anyhow ?

of

it,

reader dear ? and

[187]

how do

Specimen

Where The

First

pable ^y

Mems~

2)ai?0

was stopping

I

frost,

my

on

saw the

I

first

pal-

sunrise walk, October

^" ^^^^ ^^e yet-greeo spread a light

blue-gray

veil,

giving a

new show

to the

had but little time to notice it, for the sun rose cloudless and mellow-warm, and as returned along the lane it had turned to glittering I entire landscape.

patches of wet.

I

As

I

walk

notice the bursting

I

pods of wild-cotton, (Indian hemp they call it here,) with flossy-silky contents, and dark red-brown seeds

— a startled rabbit — life-everlasting

and

1

pull a handful of the balsamic

stuff

down

it

my

in

trowsers-

pocket for scent.

December Three

— Somehow

I

got thinking

to-day of young men's deaths ^°

Deaths

— not

^sadly or sentimentally, but gravely, tically,

me

20.

perhaps a

little

at all

realis-

Let

artistically.

give the following three cases from budgets of

have been turning memoranda, which alone in my room, and resuming and dwelling

personal over,

I

on, this rainy afternoon.

the theme does not

how

it

may be

Who

is

come home? Then

to others, but to

me

nothing gloomy or depressing the contrary, as reminiscences,

in 1

whom

there to 1

don't

not only

know

is

there

such cases

— on

find

them soothing,

bracing, tonic.

Erastus Haskfxl. from a

letter written

—

[I

just transcribe verbatim

by myself [188]

in

one of the army

— Specimen Dai^a hospitals,

1

6 years ago, during the secession war.]

IVashington, July 28, 186),

— Dear M., —

I

by the

ing this in the hospital, sitting

am

writ-

side of a

do not expect to last many hours. His fate he seems to be only about 19 has been a hard one

soldier,

I

—

or 20

— Erastus

company

Haskell,

K, 141st N. Y.

has been out about a year, and sick or half-sick more

than half that time

— has

down on

been

the penin-

sula—was

detail'd to

While

the surgeon told him to keep up with

sick,

the rest

He

is

in

fine

down on

me

the peninsula

The

first

in

march'd too long). a very sensible

complains — was

manners — never

fever.

up here

the band as fifer-boy.

— (probably work'd and

a shy, and seems to

— has phoid

go

boy sick

an old storehouse —ty-

week

this July

was brought

— journey very bad, no accommodations, no

nourishment, nothing but hard jolting, and exposure

enough to make a well man journeys do the job for many)

nth — a silent

sick

;

(these fearful

— arrived here

July

dark-skinn'd Spanish-looking youth,

with large very dark blue eyes, peculiar looking. Doctor

F.

here

made

light of his sickness

would recover soon, &c.; but ent,

and told

F.

so repeatedly

;

I

— said he

thought very (I

came near

—

differ-

quarrel-

but he him about it from the first) laugh'd, and would not listen to me. About four days ago, told Doctor he would in my opinion lose the boy without doubt but F. again laugh'd at me. The next day he changed his opinion brought the

ing with

I

—

—

[189]

Specimen 2)a?0

—

he said the boy would head surgeon of the post probably die, but they would make a hard fight for him.

The

—a

breath

two days he has been

last

pitiful sight.

I

lying panting for

have been with him some

He suffers a says little or nothing— is great deal with the heat flighty the last three days, at times knows me alevery day or night since he arrived.

—

ways, however calls

the

—

me

calls

—

''Walter"

name over and over and over

Chemung County,

Breesport,

with large family

mother too

—

is

is living.

shall write again

to-day

word from home

for

I

sit

N. Y.,

This young

I

He

past

all

is

a long while.

I

man

here as

is

within

lies

;

every breath a spasm

a noble youngster,

am

his

hands clasp'd across

his

Often there

hope.

;

wish you could

his breast, his thick black hair cut close

so cruel.

man

— Erastus has not received a

on his back,

ing, breathing hard,

mechanic

months.

see the whole scene. flat

a

have written to them, and

here writing to you, M.,

reach of me,

is

a steady, religious I

mus-

again,

His father lives at

ingly, abstractedly, to himself.)

As

— (sometimes

—

I

he

—

is

it

doz-

looks

consider him

no one with him

much

for

as possible.

Camden, Nov., 1874, Monday afternoon his widow, mother, relamates of the fire department, and his other

William Alcott, fireman.

— Last tives,

friends,

love

(I

grew

was fast

one, only lately

and

close, the [X90]

it

is

true, but our

days and nights of

Specimen 2)a?0 those eight weeks by the chair of rapid decline, and the bed of death,) gather'd to the funeral of this

young man, who had grown up, and was wellknown here. With nothing special, perhaps, to record, would give a word or two to his memory. He seem'd to me not an inappropriate specimen in I

character and elements, of that bulk of the average

good American race that ebbs and flows perennially beneath this scum of eructations on the surface. Always very quiet in manner, neat in person and punctual and industrious at dress, good temper'd he just his work, till he could work no longer

—

lived

steady,

his

own humble (Though intellect

I

—

unobtrusive

square,

sphere, doubtless unconscious of

in

its

itself.

think there were currents of emotion and far

deeper than his

— or

than he himself

undevelop'd beneath,

acquaintances ever suspected ever did.)

life,

He was no

talker.

His troubles,

when

As there was nothlife, he made no com-

he had any, he kept to himself. ing querulous about

him

in

plaints during his last sickness.

He was one

of those

persons that while his associates never thought of attributing all

any

particular talent or grace to him, yet

insensibly, really, liked Billy Alcott. I,

too, loved him.

quite a

good

deal —

ing for breath,

much

At after

last, after

being with him

hours and days of pant-

of the time unconscious, (for

though the consumption that had been lurking in his system, once thoroughly started, made rapid [191]

Specimen 2)a?0 was

progress, there

great vitality in him, and

still

indeed for four or five days he lay dying, before the

on Wednesday night, Nov.

close,) late

we

surrounded his bed

in silence,

where there came a lull 4th,

— a longer drawn breath, a pause, a

faint sigh

other— a weaker

sigh — a

breath,

another

— anpause

again and just a tremble — and the face of the

wasted young man (he was just in death,

on

my

fell

gently over,

hand, on the pillow.

Charles Caswell.

—

batim, from a letter to

my friend New York

26,)

poor

[I

extract the following, ver-

me

dated September 29, from

John Burroughs, at Esopus-on-Hudson, State.] S. was away when your picture

came, attending his sick brother, has since died

— an

Charles

— who

event that has sadden'd

me

was younger than S., and a most attractive young fellow. He work'd at my father's and had done so for two years. He was about the best specimen of a young country farm-hand ever knew. You would have loved him. He was like one of your poems. With his great strength, his much.

Charlie

I

his

and contentment, his silent manly ways, he

a youth hard to match.

He was murder'd by

blond

hair,

universal

was

his cheerfulness

good

will,

and

He had typhoid fever, and the old fool bled him twice. He lived to wear out the fever, but had not strength to rally. He was out of his an old doctor.

head nearly in

all

the time.

the afternoon, S.

In the

morning, as he died

was standing over him, when [192]

;

Specimen 2)a?0 Charlie put up his arms around S.'s neck, and pull'd his face

down and

the end

was

to the last.)

was

kiss'd him.

near.

(S.

S. said

knew then

stuck to him day and night

When was home I

cradling on the

he

and

hill,

in

August, Charlie

was a picture to see All work seem'd play

it

him walk through the grain. He had no vices, any more than Nature has, to him. and was beloved by all who knew him. have written thus to you about him, for such young men belong to you; he was of your kind. I wish you could have known him. He had the sweetness of a child, and the strength and courage and readiness of a young Viking. His mother and father His mother are poor; they have a rough, hard farm. works in the field with her husband when the work presses. She has had twelve children. I

February ^e ruary

tart,

my

country

hours

as

I

have been

I

spots to

sit

/57<?.— Glistening sun to-day,

I

;

in

and

in

— then

down

air,

in

two woods

For

picking out choice

up and slowly on again.

summer

course, none of the

to-day hardly even the winter exercising

my

voice in

ringing the changes on

vocal and alphabetical sounds. VOL. IV.— 13.

the open

chair,

amuse myself by

recitations,

enough, and yet

wandering around the

my

Of

peace here.

here

warm

under an old cedar.

idly

awhile

noises or vitality ones.

sit

retreat,

and pond, lugging All is

y,

^j^j^ slight haze,

_

_

[193]

all

the

Not even an echo

!

specimen Da^a only the cawing of a solitary crow, flying at some

The pond is one bright,

distance.

a

ripple — a

flat

spread, without

vast Claude Lorraine glass, in

study the sky, the

the leafless trees,

light,

which and an I

occasional crow, with flapping wings, flying over-

The brown of snow left.

head.

fields

9.— After an

Feb,

resting, sitting close

have a few white patches

now retreating, in a warm nook,

hour's ramble,

by the pond,

writing this, shelter'd from the breeze, just before

The emotional

noon.

Nature

I,

!

aspects

and

too, like the rest, feel these

dencies (from

all

influences of

modern

ten-

the prevailing intellections, literature

and poems,) to turn everything to pathos, ennui, morbidity, dissatisfaction, death. is

to

me

clear

all,

but of one's

own

it

distorted, sick or

Here, amid this wild, free scene,

soul.

healthy,

how

that those are not the born results, influences

of Nature at silly

Yet

how

joyous,

how

how

clean and vigorous and

sweet Mid-afternoon.— One of my nooks is south of the barn, and here am sitting now, on a log, still basking in the sun, shielded from the wind. Near me I

are the cattle, feeding

on corn-stalks.

Occasionally

(how handsome and bold he is !) scratches and munches the far end of the log on which sit. The fresh milky odor is quite perThe ceptible, also the perfume of hay from the barn.

a

cow

or the

young

bull

I

perpetual rustle of dry corn-stalks, the low sough of [194]

Specimen

2)ai?0

the wind round the barn gables, the grunting of pigs, the distant whistle of the locomotive, and occasional

crowing of chanticleers, are the sounds. Cold and sharp last night Feb, 19.

—

not

much wind

— the

full

moon

spread of constellations and

— clear

and

and a

fine

shining,

little

and big

stars

—

by manyorb'd Orion, glittering, vast, sworded, and chasing with his dog. The earth hard frozen, and a stiff glare of ice over the pond. Attracted by the calm Sirius very bright, rising early, preceded

splendor of the night,

was

driven back

also at 9 o'clock, I.

sun

down

when

I

cold.

Too

came

out this

severe for

But now, near noon,

the lane, basking

all

the

me

morning, so

way

I

have in

the

farm has a pleasant southerly exposure,)

(this

and here

attempted a short walk, but

by the

turn 'd back again.

walk'd

I

I

am, seated under the

lee of a bank, close

by the water. There are bluebirds already flying about, and hear much chirping and twittering and I

two

or three real songs, sustain'd quite a while, in

the mid-day brilliance and warmth.

(There! that

is

coming out boldly and repeatedly, as if the singer meant it.) Then as the noon strengthens, the reedy trill of the robin to my ear the most cheering of bird-notes. At intervals, like bars and breaks (out of the low murmur that in any scene, howa true carol,

—

ever quiet,

is

never entirely absent to a delicate ear,)

the occasional crunch and cracking of the ice-glare

congeal'd over the creek, as

it

gives

way

to the

Specimen Da^a

— sometimes with

— sometimes

low sigh with indignant, obstinate tug and snort.

sunbeams

(Robert Burns says

in

one of his

letters:

''

There

scarcely any earthly object gives me more — do not know should pleasure — but something which exalts me — something which enraptures me — than to walk the shelter'd side of a wood a is

I

if

call

I

it

in

in

cloudy winter day, and hear the stormy wind howling is

among

my

the trees, and raving over the plain.

best season of devotion."

characteristic

Some

poems were composed

in

It

of his most

such scenes

and seasons.)

March /^.— Fine, A Meadow adow

^j^^

Lark

clear, dazzling

^^^ j^^^

^^^

a stamp in advance

my

^^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^

enough.

What

morning,

whole day receives from the song of that meadow lark perch 'd on a fence-stake twenty rods distant!

Two

or three liquid-simple notes, repeated at inter-

vals, full

of careless happiness and .hope.

With

its

shimmering slow progress and rapid-noiseless action of the wings, it flies on a way, lights on another stake, and so on to another, shimmering and peculiar

singing

many

minutes.

May S'htT^

6,

5 P.M.

—This

is

strange effects in light and to

make

spokes of molten

a colorist

go

the hour for

shade— enough

delirious

silver sent horizontally [196]

— long

through the

Specimen 2)a?0 trees leaf

(now

in their brightest

and branch of endless

then lying

tenderest green,) each

foliage a lit-up miracle,

prone on the youthful-ripe, intermin-

all

able grass, and giving the blades not only aggregate

but individual splendor, other hour.

in

ways unknown

One

these effects in their perfection.

any

to

have particular spots where

I

I

get

broad splash

on the water, with many a rippling twinkle, offset by the rapidly deepening black-green murkylies

transparent

shadows behind, and

along the banks. zontal

fire

at

intervals

all

These, with great shafts of hori-

thrown among the

trees

and along the

more and more more and more superb, unearthly, rich and

grass as the sun lowers, give effects peculiar,

dazzling.

June

2.—This

is

the fourth day of a dark

Thoughts

northeast storm, wind and

Oak—A

^^^^ yesterday

Dream

now

was my

enter'd on

my

rain.

birthday.

6oth year.

Day I

be-

have

Every

day of the storm, protected by overshoes

and a waterproof blanket, I regularly come down to the pond, and ensconce myself under the lee of the great oak;

I

am

here

now

The dark smoke-color'd clouds athwart the sky; the

soft

writing these lines. roll in

furious silence

green leaves dangle

all

around me; the wind steadily keeps up its hoarse, soothing music over my head Nature's mighty

—

whisper.

Seated here

in solitude [197]

I

have been musing

Specimen 2)as6 over

my

life— connecting events, dates, as links of a

chain, neither sadly nor cheerily, but

day here under the oak,

in

somehow,

to-

the rain, in an unusually

matter-of-fact spirit.

But

my

great

oak—sturdy,

thick at the butt.

Then the

him.

limb; as

walk,

if

if it

by—the

foliage

the beauteous,

only would.

the other day, in which

feet

and throwing-out of

vital, leafy

creature could

had a sort of dream-trance

(I I

Apollo of the

robust and sinewy,

graceful, yet

hang of

green— five

a great deal near or under

sit

tulip-tree near

woods—tall and inimitable in

I

vital,

saw

my

favorite trees step

down and

out and promenade up,

around,

very

curiously— with a whisper from one, leaning

down

as he passed me.

We do

on the present occa-

all this

sion, exceptionally, just for you.)

Hay Pe^^ fume

fills

July ^A, 4th, ^th,— Clear, hot, favorable Weather—has been a good summer—the

growth of clover and grass now generally mow'd. The familiar delicious perfume the barns and lanes. As you go along you

see the fields of grayish white slightly tinged with

yellow, the loosely stack'd grain, the slow-moving

wagons

passing,

and farmers

in

the fields with stout

boys pitching and loading the sheaves. about beginning to

tassel.

All

— long,

[198]

is

over the Middle and

Southern States the spear-shaped nous, curving, flaunting

The corn

battalia, multitudi-

glossy, dark-green

Specimen Baige plumes

for the great

cheery notes of

but too

one

my

horseman, earth.

old acquaintance

hear the

Tommy

(though

late for the whip-poor-will,

solitary lingerer night before last).

broad majestic

I

1

flight of a turkey-buzzard,

quail;

heard

I

watch the sometimes

high up, sometimes low enough to see the lines of his form, even his spread quills, in relief against the

Once

sky.

or twice lately

have seen an eagle here

I

at early candle-light flying low.

An ,, Unknown .

,

/^^^ 75.—To-day ,

,

.

hawk from

his bill

large

grown hen

—a

— supand general look — only he

haughty, white-bodied dark-wing'd

pose a

new ,

.

of a nearly

size

bird,

noticed a

I

^

.

hawk

I

had a clear, loud, quite musical, sort of bell-like call, which he repeated again and again, at intervals, from a lofty dead tree-top, overhanging the water. there a long time, and

on the opposite bank watch-

Then he darted down, skimming

ing him.

close to the stream sight,

I

and

sail'd

flapping at

all,

— rose

slowly,

I

saw

with steady wide-spread wings, no

up and down the pond two or three

Once he came quite

plainly his hook'd

How much Whistling

pretty

a magnificent

times, near me, in circles in clear sight, as delectation.

Sat

bill

close over

and hard

if

for

my

my head;

restless eyes.

music (wild, simple, savage,

doubtless, but so tart-sweet,) there

mere whistling It utterance of birds. There are !

[199]

is all

is in

four fifths of the sorts

and

styles.

Specimen ©a^a For the

last half-hour,

some

now, while

I

have been

sitting

away off in the bushes has been repeating over and over again what I may here,

call

feathered fellow

a kind of throbbing whistle.

And now

about the robin size has just appear'd, red, flitting

deep

4

among

red, not

o'clock

me — a

very bright

There

:

the bushes

its

body,

have heard.

I

a real concert going on around

is

dozen different birds pitching

show

mulberry

— head, wings,

— no song, as

There have been occasional all

all

a bird

in

with a

will.

and the growths vivifying influences. As finish this, rains,

I

by the pond-edge, much

seated on a log close

chirp-

ing and trilling in the distance, and a feathered recluse in

woods near by

the

many

notes, but

pathy

— continuing

full

is

singing deliciously

of music of almost

for a long,

— not

human sym-

long while.

Aug, 22,— Hot a human being, and hardly the evidence of one, in sight. brief semi-daily bath,

I

sit

here for a

bit,

After

the brook

musically brawling, to the chromatic tones of a ful cat-bird

walk hither old lane, off

I

now the sky, now the mileand now the apple orchards.

stopt to view,

the

hill,

a contrast from

streets!

fret-

somewhere off in the bushes. On my two hours since, through fields and the

woods on

What

my

New

York's or Philadelphia's

Everywhere great patches of dingy -blos-

som'd horse-mint wafting a spicy odor through the air,

(especially evenings). [200]

Everywhere the flower-

Specimen Wa^e ing

and the

boneset,

rose-bloom

of

the

wild

still

haunt

bean.

July

14.

—My

the pond.

and

two

kingfishers

In the bright

sun and breeze

perfect temperature of to-day, noon,

I

am

sitting

here by one of the gurgling brooks, dipping a French

water-pen

in

the limpid crystal, and using

it

to write

these lines, again watching the feather'd twain, as

they

fly

and sport athwart the water, so

touching into three of us.

its

surface.

almost

Indeed there seem to be

For nearly an hour

them while they

close,

I

indolently look and

and turn and take their airy gambols, sometimes far up the creek disappearing for a few moments, and then surely returning again, and performing most of their flight within sight of me, as if they knew appreciated and absorb'd their vitality, spirituality, faithfulness, and the rapid, vanishing, delicate lines of moving yet quiet electricity they draw for me across the spread of the grass, the trees, and the blue sky. While the brook babbles, babbles, and the shadows of the boughs dapple in the sunshine around me, and the cool westby-nor'west wind faintly soughs in the thick bushes and tree-tops. join

dart

I

Among

the objects of beauty and interest

ginning to appear quite plentifully spot, its

I

in this

now

be-

secluded

notice the humming-bird, the dragon-fly with

wings of

slate-color'd gauze, [201]

and many

varieties

Specimen Da^a of beautiful and plain butterflies, idly flapping

the plants and wild posies.

among

The mullein has shot

up out of its nest of broad leaves, to a tall stalk towering sometimes five or six feet high, now studded with knobs of golden blossoms. The milk-weed, (I see a great gorgeous creature of gamboge and black lighting on one as write,) is in flower, with its delicate red fringe; and there are profuse clusters of a feathery blossom waving in the wind on taper stems. see lots of these and much else in every direction, I

I

as

1

saunter or

persistently kept

up

from the bushes.

some

For the

sit.

my

(I

have a positive conviction that flirt

about

special benefit.)

New York of

City.

— Came

on from West

Philadelphia, June 13, in the 2 p.m. train

^^ Jersey City,

len Bryant

friends,

and so across and to my J. H. J., and their

Mr. and Mrs.

amid

large house, large family (and large hearts,)

which

has

a simple, sweet, melodious song,

of these birds sing, and others fly and

here for

Death

last half-hour a bird

I

feel at

home,

at

Avenue, near Eighty-sixth looking the dense

woody

peace

— away up on

Fifth

Street, quiet, breezy, over-

fringe of the Park

of space and sky, birds chirping, and

air

— plenty compara-

and odorless. Two hours before starting, saw the announcement of William Cullen Bryant's had funeral, and felt a strong desire to attend. known Mr. Bryant over thirty years ago, and he had

tively fresh

I

[202]

.^

CTkliu^m. /<^.. (J}y^^tr

:

Specimen 2)a?6 been markedly kind to me.

Off and on, along that

time for years as they pass'd, together.

I

we met and

thought him very sociable

chatted

way,

in his

and a man to become attach'd to. We were both walkers, and when work'd in Brooklyn he several I

times came over, middle of afternoons, and rambles, miles long, Flatbush, in

me

till

On

these occasions he gave

clear accounts of scenes in

Europe

looks, architecture, art, especially Italy

had

good

took

dark, out towards Bedford or

company.

traveled a

we

— the — where

cities,

he

deal.

June 14. — The Funeral, — And so the good, stainless,

noble old citizen and poet

coffin there — and this

is

lies

A

his funeral.

the closed

in

solemn, im-

and senses.

The

remarkable gathering of gray heads, celebrities

— the

pressive,

simple scene, to

finely render'd

anthem, and other music

dim even now

at approaching noon,

the mellow-stain'd

on the bard

spirit

who

in its light

— the pronounc'd eulogy

windows

— ending with

appropriate well-known lines

I

gazed upon the glorious sky,

And the green mountains round, And thought that when came to lie I

At

rest within the

ground,

'Twere pleasant that

When And

from

loved Nature so fondly, and sung

shows and seasons

so well her

— the church,

in

flowery June,

brooks send up a joyous tune, groves a cheerful sound, [203]

these

Specimen 2)a^0 The The

rich green

June *

^

my

sexton's hand,

20th.

grave to make.

mountain

— On

turf should break.

Mary

the

Powell en-

The

j^y'd everything beyond precedent.

Hudson^

summer

delicious tender

—

warm

day, just

the constantly changing but ever beautiful enough (went up near panorama on both sides of the river a hundred miles) the high straight walls of the stony Palisades beautiful Yonkers, and beautiful Irvington the never-ending hills, mostly in rounded lines, swathed with verdure, the distant turns, like great shoulders in blue veils the frequent gray and

—

— —

—

brown

of the tall-rising

now

narrowing,

many

— — rocks — the expanding — the white

river itself,

some

sails

now

of the

some in the distance the rapid succession of handsome villages and cities, (our boat is a swift traveler, and makes few stops) the Race picturesque West Point, and indeed all along the costly and often turreted mansions forever showing in some cheery light color, through the woods make up the scene. sloops, yachts, &c.,

near,

—

—

—

—

— June 21. — Here

I

am, on the west bank

Happiness and Rasp-

^^ ^^^ Hudson, 8o miles north of

berries

York,

'

near

Esopus,

at

the

New

handsome,

roomy, honeysuckle-and-rose-embower'd cottage of John Burroughs.

The

place, the perfect

June days and nights, (leaning toward crisp and cool,) the hospitality of

j.

and Mrs.

[204]

B.,

the

air,

the

Specimen 2)a^6 fruit,

(especially

favorite dish, currants

and rasp-

mixed, sugar'd, fresh and ripe from

berries,

bushes

my

—

pick 'em myself)

1

night, the perfect bed, the

— the

room

window

1

the

occupy

at

giving an ample

view of the Hudson and the opposite shores, so wonderful toward sunset, and the rolling music of the peaceful rest the RR. trains, far over there

—

— the

early

Venus-heralded dawn

splash of sunrise, the light and

— the

warmth

glorious, in which, (soon as the sun

have a brush

who

is

well up,)

is

an extra scour on the back by us —

here with

frame with

indescribably I

rubbing and rasping with the flesh-

capital

— with

noiseless

new

for the day.

life,

whiffs of morning

air,

my

inspiriting

all

Then,

Al. J.,

invalid

after

some

the delicious coffee of Mrs. B.,

with the cream, strawberries, and

many

substantial,

for breakfast.

June

52.

—This

B., Al.

and

TrSp'"'''' (J. the country. Family

afternoon

we went

out

on quite a drive around

I)

The

scenery, the perpetual

stone fences, (some venerable old fellows,

dark-spotted with lichens)

— the

many

trees— the runs of brawling water, scents of rock — these, and

lots else.

fine locust-

often over deIt is

roads are first-rate here, (as they are,) for

down B. tle

lucky the it is

up or

everywhere, and sometimes steep enough. has a tip-top horse, strong, young, and both genhill

and

fast.

There

is

a great deal [205]

of waste land

Specimen 2)a?0 and

hills

and

it

on the

edge of Ulster County, with a wonderful luxuriance of wild flowers and bushes

seems to

— eloquent

river

—

me

I

never saw more vitality of trees

hemlocks,

plenty of locusts and fine

maples, and the balm of Gilead, giving out aroma. In the fields

and along the road-sides unusual crops

of the tall-stemm'd wild daisy, white as milk and

yellow as gold.

We

pass'd quite a

couples

in

— one

squad, a family in a rickety one-

— the man seated on a low board, driving — the gauntish woman by his

work and

trade

we

in

her arms,

its

little

red

and lower legs sticking out right towards us as pass'd and in the wagon behind, we saw two

—

(or three) crouching

little

children.

foot,

I

It

was

a queer,

had been alone and should have stopp'd and held confab. But

taking, rather sad picture.

on

in

side,

with a baby well bundled feet

of tramps, singly or

with some baskets evidently their

horse wagon,

front,

number

If

I

on our return nearly two hours afterward, we found them a ways further along the same road, in a lonesome open spot, haul'd aside, unhitch'd and evident-

was not far off, quietly cropping the grass. The man was busy at the wagon, the boy had gather'd some dry and as we went a wood, and was making a fire could not little further we met the woman afoot. ly

going to camp

for the night.

The

freed horse

—

I

see her face, in figure

and

its

great sun-bonnet, but

somehow

gait told misery, terror, destitution. [206]

her

She

Specimen

2)ai?0

had the rag-bundled, half-starv'd' infant still in her arms, and in her hands held two or three baskets,

which she had evidently taken to the next house

A

sale.

little

barefoot five-year-old girl-child, with

fine eyes, trotted

We

stopp'd,

for

behind her, clutching her gown.

asking about the baskets, which

we

As we paid the money, she kept her face hidden in the recesses of her bonnet. Then as we started, and stopp'd again, Al., (whose sympathies were evidently arous'd,) went back to the camping group to get another basket. He caught a look of her face, and talk'd with her a little. Eyes, voice and manner were those of a corpse, animated by the man she electricity. She was quite young bought.

—

—

was traveling with, middle-aged. Poor woman what story was it, out of her fortunes, to account for that inexpressibly scared

way, those glassy eyes,

and that hollow voice?

from^h?Ba

June 25.

— Returned

"'^^*-

^^* *^"^^y ^" *^^

sail in

Island

to

New

York

last

v^^iexs. for

a

the wide bay, southeast of Staten

— a rough, tossing

ride,

and a

free sight

— the

long stretch of Sandy Hook, the highlands of Nave-

and the many vessels outward and inward bound. We came up through the midst of all, in the sink,

full

sun.

1

especially enjoy'd the last

A

hour or two.

moderate sea-breeze had set in; yet over the city, and the waters adjacent, was a thin haze, concealing [207]

specimen 2)a?0 From

nothing, only adding to the beauty.

of view, as

write amid the soft breeze, with a sea-

I

temperature, surely nothing on earth of

go beyond with

my point

show.

this

vista

its far

To

the

— nearer,

left

its

kind can

the North River

three or four war-ships,

anchor'd peacefully— the Jersey side, the banks of

Weehawken,

the Palisades, and the gradually reced-

— to the right the East River — the mast-hemm'd shores — the grand obelisk-

ing blue, lost in the distance

like

towers of the bridge, one on either

side, in haze,

yet plainly defined, giant brothers twain, throwing free graceful interlinking loops

high across the tum-

— (the

bled tumultuous current below

changing to

its

ebb)

and steam

is

just

— the broad water-spread every-

— no, not sky — with

where crowded stars in the

tide

crowded, but thick as

all

sorts

and

sizes of sail

vessels, plying ferry-boats, arriving

departing coasters, great ocean

modern, magnificent

in size

Dons,

and power,

human

and

iron-black, fill'd

with

and precious merchandise with here and there, above all, those daring, careening things of grace and wonder, those white and shaded swift-darting fish-birds, (I wonder

their incalculable value of

—

if

shore or sea elsewhere can outvie them,) ever with

their

slanting spars,

beauty and motion schooner yachts, a

life

good wind.

—

and

fierce,

first-class

New

sailing, this fine

And

pure,

hawk-like

York sloop or

day, the free sea in

rising out of the midst, tall-topt,

ship-hemm'd, modern, American, yet strangely Ori[208]

Specimen

V-shaped Manhattan, with

ental,

its spires,

centre

— the

see

its

compact mass,

cloud-touching edifices group'd at the

its

green of the trees, and

brown and gray 1

2)ai?6

the white,

all

of the architecture well blended, as

under a miracle of limpid sky, delicious

it,

of heaven above,

light

and June haze on the surface

below.

The

H^r

^"^

^"^ Brooklyn

when

—

(will not the

call

years,

to

(I

York

time hasten

the

great seething oceanic populations, as visit, is

New

two shall be municipally united in one, and named Manhattan?) what the human interior and exterior of these

New York

may

general subjective view of

me

best of

went away

I

—

1

it

in this

get

After an absence of

all.

at the

many

outbreak of the secession

war, and have never been back to stay since,) again I

resume with curiosity the crowds, the

knew

so well, Broadway, the

of the city, democratic

Bowery

ferries,

streets,

I

the west side

— human appearances

and manners as seen in all these, and along the wharves, and in the perpetual travel of the horse-cars or the crowded excursion steamers, or in Wall and Nassau streets by day in the places of amusement bubbling and whirling and moving like at night endless humanity its own environment of waters

—

—

in all

— — phases Brooklyn also— taken

three weeks.

in for

the last

No need to specify minutely — enough

to say that (making

all

allowances for the shadows

VOL. IV.— 14.

[209]

— Specimen 2)a?0 and side-streaks of a million-headed-city) the

human

total of the impressions, the

vast cities,

to

is

me

brief

qualities, of these

comforting, even heroic, beyond

Alertness, generally fine physique, clear

statement.

eyes that look straight at you, a singular combination of reticence and self-possession, with good nature

and

friendliness

—a

manners, taste and

prevailing range of according

intellect, surely

where upon earth — and

beyond any

a palpable out-cropping of

that personal comradeship

I

look forward to as the

subtlest, strongest future hold of this

many-item'd

Union — are not only constantly visible here

mighty channels of men, but they form the average.

To-day,

I

else-

should

and pessimists, and with a

say — defiant

full

in

these

rule

and

of cynics

knowledge of all

their

exceptions — an appreciative and perceptive study of

the current humanity of

New York gives the directest

proof yet of successful Democracy, and of the solution of that paradox, the eligibility of the free and fully

developed individual with the paramount aggregate. In old age,

many

lame and

sick,

pondering

for

years on

a doubt and danger for this republic of ours

aware of all that can be said on the other side find in this visit to New York, and the daily contact and rapport with its myriad people, on the

fully

—

I

scale of the oceans

medicine

my

and

tides,

the best, most effective

soul has yet partaken

— the

grandest

physical habitat and surroundings of land and water

the globe affords

— namely, [210]

Manhattan island and

Specimen ®a?0 Brooklyn, which the future shall join in one city city of

superb democracy, amid superb surroundings.

July Hours

—

for •r

the Soul

22,

/(?75.— Living

all

in

the

A

wonderful conjunction

that goes to

make those sometime

^^Quntry again.

of

down

— so near

miracle-hours after sunset

Perfect, or nearly perfect days,

I

and yet so

far.

notice, are not so

very uncommon; but the combinations that make

We have

perfect nights are few, even in a lifetime.

one of those perfections to-night.

Sunset

left

things

the larger stars were visible soon as

pretty clear;

the shades allow'd.

A

while

after eight, three or

four great black clouds suddenly rose, seemingly

from different points, and sweeping

with

broad

wind but no thunder, underspread the orbs from view everywhere, and indicated a violent heatstorm. But without storm, clouds, blackness and all, sped and vanish'd as suddenly as they had risen; and from a little after nine till eleven the atmosphere and the whole show above were in that state of exswirls of

ceptional clearness and glory just alluded to.

northwest turned the Great Dipper with

round the Cynosure.

A

little

stellation of the Scorpion

tares

glowing

Jupiter

in its

was

seem'd just

till

after ii).

laid in

pointers

south of east the confully up,

with red An-

neck; while dominating, majestic

swam, an hour and

— (no moon

its

In the

a half risen, in the east

A

large part of the sky

great splashes of phosphorus. [211]

Specimen H)a?0

You could look deeper

farther through,

in,

usual; the orbs thick as heads of

Not that there was any nothing near as sharp as

wheat

than

in a field.

special brilliancy either

—

have seen of keen winter

I

nights, but a curious general luminousness through-

The

out to sight, sense, and soul. to

do with

(I

it.

am

latter

had much

convinced there are hours

of Nature, especially of the atmosphere, mornings

and evenings, address'd to the

what the proudest day can

scends, for that purpose, do.)

Now,

indeed,

clared the glory of

if

Night tran-

soul.

never before, the heavens de-

God.

It

was

to the

full

sky of

the Bible, of Arabia, of the prophets, and of the

There, in abstraction and stillness^

oldest poems.

had gone off by myself to absorb the scene, to have the spell unbroken,) the copiousness, the removedness, vitality, loose-clear-crowdedness, of that (I

stellar

concave spreading overhead, softly absorb'd

into me, rising so free, interminably high, stretching east, west, north, in

south

— and

I,

the centre below, embodying

As

if

all.

for the first time, indeed, creation noiselessly

sank into and through lesson,

though but a point

beyond

thing from or new.

art,

The

— O,

me

placid

so infinitely

and untellable

beyond!—

any-

books, sermons, or from science, old spirit's

visible suggestion of

hour

God

once definitely indicated, pointed at

its

— the

in

if

heavens

— the and time — now

— religion's space

The untold The paved with it.

never again. all

[212]

hour

Specimen Dai^a Milky Way, as

if

some superhuman symphony, some

ode of universal vagueness, disdaining syllable and

sound soul.

—

— a flashing glance of Deity, address'd to the silently — the indescribable night and stars All

far off

and

silently.

The Dawn. —7i//^ ^3.— This morning, between one and two hours before sunrise, a spectacle wrought on the same background, yet of quite different beauty and meaning. The moon well up in the heavens,

—

the air and and past her half, is shining brightly sky of that cynical-clear, Minerva-like quality, virgin cool

— not

the weight of sentiment or mystery, or

passion's ecstasy indefinable

—not the religious sense,

and sublimated into one, of the night just described. Every star now clear-cut, showing for just what it is, there in the colorless the varied

ether.

All, distill'd

The

character of the heralded morning, inef-

and fresh and limpid, but for the esthetic sense alone, and for purity without sentiment. I have itemized the night attempt the but dare cloudless dawn? (What subtle tie is this between one's soul and the break of day? Alike, and yet no two nights or morning shows ever exactly alike.) fably sweet

—

Preceded by an immense

star,

I

almost unearthly

effusion of white splendor, with

two

in its

or three long

unequal spoke-rays of diamond radiance, shedding

down through

the fresh morning

air

below

— an hour

of this, and then the sunrise

The East.— What

a subject for a [213]

poem!

Indeed,

Specimen 2)a?0 more pregnant, more splendid one? Where one more idealistic-real, more subtle, more sensuous-delicate? The East, answering all lands, where

all

else a

ages, peoples; touching

ate,

now — and

senses, here, immedi-

yet so indescribably far

off— such

East — long-stretching — so

The

retrospect!

all

losing

— the Orient, the gardens of Asia, the womb of history and song — forth-issuing those strange, — dim cavalcades itself

all

Florid with blood, pensive, rapt with musings, hot

with passion,

Sultry with perfume, with ample and flowing garments.

With sunburnt

visage, intense soul

—

Always the East And yet here the same

old,

and

how

— ours

to every morning, every

glittering eyes.

life,

yet, fresh as a rose,

to-day

will be.

Sept,

incalculably old!

//.—Another presentation

— and

always

— same theme —

just before sunrise again, (a favorite hour with me.)

The

clear gray sky, a faint

glow

in

the dull liver-

color of the east, the cool fresh odor

ture

— the — the

cattle

the fields

and horses

star

Venus

off there

again,

For sounds, the chirping of crickets clarion of chanticleer,

early crow.

and pines

and the moisgrazing in

two hours in

high.

the grass, the

and the distant cawing of an

Quietly over the dense fringe of cedars

rises that dazzling, red, transparent disk of

flame, and the

low sheets of white vapor

into dissolution. [214]

roll

and

roll

Specimen Bai?^ The Moon.—M^jF 18.—I went to bed early last night, but found myself waked shortly after 12, and, turning awhile, sleepless and mentally feverish,

I

and walk'd down

rose, dress'd myself, sallied forth

moon, some three or four hours a sprinkle of light and less-light clouds just up lazily moving— Jupiter an hour high in the east, and here and there throughout the heavens a random So beautifully star appearing and disappearing. veiled and varied the air, with that early-summer perfume, not at all damp or raw at times Luna lan-

The

the lane.

—

full

—

—

guidly emerging in richest brightness for minutes,

and then

Far off a poor

partially envelop'd again.

whip-poor-will plied his notes incessantly. that silent time

The

between

i

and

Is

how

or literature

has yet caught?

that suggest

it.)

it

sooth'd

which no poem (In very old and

relation or reminder,

I

soon

there not something about the

moon, some

primitive ballads

was

3.

rare nocturnal scene,

and pacified me!

It

have come across

lines or asides

After a while the clouds mostly

and as the moon swam on, she carried, shimmering and shifting, delicate color-effects of pellucid

clear'd,

green and tawny vapor.

Let

me

with an extract (some writer 16,

the Tribune,

May

1878):

No

one ever gets

by dower of her tact

in

conclude this part

— knows

tired of the

Goddess

moon.

eternal beauty, she

is

a true

the charm of being seldom [215]

that she

woman by

seen, of

is

her

coming by

;

Specimen S)a?0 surprise and staying but a

two nights mends herself to

little

running, nor

dress

while; never wears the same

all

night the same

the matter-of-fact people by her usefulness,

and makes her uselessness adored by poets, in all

lands; lends herself to

emblem

is

;

way; com-

Diana's

bow and

artists,

and

all

lovers

every symbolism and to every

Venus's mirror and Mary's throne

is

a sickle, a scarf, an eyebrow, his face or her face, and look'd

at

by her

or

by him

;

madman's

the

is

the baby's toy, the philosopher's study

hell, ;

the poet's heaven,

and while her admirers

follow her footsteps, and hang on her lovely looks, she

how

to

keep her woman's

secret — her other

knows

side — unguess'd

and unguessable."

Furthermore.—February 19, i88o.— ]\xsX before 10 P.M. cold and entirely clear again, the show overhead, bearing southwest, of wonderful and crowded

The moon

magnificence.

in

her third quarter

—

the clusters of the Hyades and Pleiades, with the planet Mars between

—

in full crossing

sky the great Egyptian X, the main stars

in

(Sirius,

sprawl

in

the

Procyon, and

the constellations of the Ship,

the Dove, and of Orion;) just north of east Bootes,

and

in his

knee Arcturus, an hour high, mounting

the heaven, ambitiously large and sparkling, as

he meant to challenge with

if

Sirius the stellar su-

premacy.

With the sentiment nights

1

get

of music or

all

of the stars and

the free margins and

poetry,

moon such

indefiniteness

fused in geometry's utmost

exactness. [216]

Specimen

S)ai?6

Aug. 4,— k pretty straw-Coior'd

Psyches^^

Where

sight!

sit in

I

thg shade

— a warm

ing from

cloudless skies, the forenoon

well advanc'd

—

day, the sun shin-

look over a ten-acre

I

of luxuriant clover-hay, (the second crop)

field

—

the livid ripe red blossoms and dabs of August

brown Over all

thickly spotting the prevailing dark-green. flutter

myriads of light-yellow

skimming along the

butterflies,

surface, dipping

and

oscillating,

The beau-

giving a curious animation to the scene.

perhaps air,

one of them leaves spirally,

perhaps

fluttering up, up,

the lane as

I

his mates,

literally

till

came along

hundred had

and mounts,

a straight line in the

in

out of sight.

now

just

I

In

noticed one

where more than a

ten feet square or so,

spot,

Occa-

insects! straw-color'd Psyches!

tiful, spiritual

sionally

mostly

collected, holding a revel, a gyration-

dance, or butterfly good-time, winding and circling,

down and limits.

The

sudden the ful.

As

across, but

I

little

last

sit

always keeping within the

come out

creatures have

few days, and are

outdoors, or walk,

I

now

all

of a

very plenti-

hardly look around

without somewhere seeing two (always two)

flut-

dalliance.

Then

their inimitable color, their fragility, peculiar

motion

tering through the air in

amorous

— and that strange, frequent way of one leaving the crowd and mounting up, up apparently never returning.

the free ether, and

in

As look over the I

these yellow-wings everywhere mildly [217]

field,

sparkling,

Specimen Dai?0

many snowy blossoms bending on their

tall

of the wild carrot gracefully

and taper stems

— while

for

sounds, the distant guttural screech of a flock of

somehow

guinea-hens comes shrilly yet to

my

in

the north

ears.

And now

— and

musically

a faint growl of heat-thunder

ever the low rising and falling

wind-purr from the tops of the maples and willows.

Aug, 20.— Butterflies and butterflies, (taking the place of the bumble-bees of three months since, who have quite disappeared,) continue to all

sorts,

flit

white, yellow, brown, purple

then some gorgeous yellow flashing

to and fro,

— now

lazily

and

by on

wings like artists' palettes dabb'd with every color. notice many white Over the breast of the pond I

ones, crossing, pursuing their idle capricious flight.

grows a tall-stemm'd weed topt with a profusion of rich scarlet blossoms, on which the snowy insects alight and dally, sometimes four By-and-by a hummingor five of them at a time. watch him coming and bird visits the same, and going, daintily balancing and shimmering about. These white butterflies give new beautiful contrasts to the pure greens of the August foliage, (we have had some copious rains lately,) and over the glistening bronze of the pond-surface. You can tame even have one big and handsome moth such insects; down here, knows and comes to me, likes me to hold him upon my extended hand. Another Day, later,— A grand twelve-acre field of Near where

I

sit

1

1

[2I8]

Specimen IDn^B ripe

cabbages with their prevailing hue of malachite

among them

green, and floating-flying over and directions myriads of these

same white

in all

butterflies.

As

came up the lane to-day saw a living globe of the same, two or three feet in diameter, many scores clus1

I

ter'd together

and

rolling along in the air,

their ball-shape, six or eight feet

Night

above the ground.

AM.—

y4ug. 2^, 9-10

A

adhering to

\

sit

by the pond,

everything quiet, the broad polish'd sur-

"

^^^^ Spread before

brance

me — the

blue of the

heavens and the white clouds reflected from

it

— and

flection of

flitting across,

some

flying bird.

here with a friend

till

after

now and

Last night

I

was down

midnight; everything a

miracle of splendor — the glory of the

moon—the

completely rounded

then, the re-

stars,

and the

passing clouds,

sil-

— now and then masses of — and silently by my side scud

ver and luminous-tawny

vapory illuminated

my dear friend. The

shades of the

of moonlight on the grass

trees,

and patches

—the softly blowing breeze,

and just-palpable odor of the neighboring ripening corn

— the indolent and suggestive

rich,

tender,

filter

through one's

spiritual night, inexpressibly

— something

soul,

altogether to

and nourish and feed and

soothe the

memory

Wild Flowers

This has been and is yet a great season ., ,. ^ ^ ^ f for wild flowers; oceans of them line the

long afterwards.

,

,

roads through the woods, border the edges of the [219]

— Specimen 2)a?0 water-runlets,

grow

along the old fences, and are

all

An eight-petal'd

scatter'd in profusion over the fields.

blossom of gold-yellow,

brown

and

with a

bright,

tuft in the middle, nearly as large as a silver

half-dollar,

drive

clear

is

noticed

I

common

very

;

yesterday on a long

thickly lining the borders of the

it

Then

brooks everywhere.

there

a beautiful

is

weed

cover'd with blue flowers, (the blue of the old Chi-

nese teacups treasur'd by our grand-aunts,) continually stopping to admire a dime, and very

plentiful.

prevailing color.

The wild

—a

little

also the fragrant life-everlasting.

am

larger than

White, however, carrot

I

is

the

have spoken

of;

But there are

all

I

hues and beauties, especially on the frequent

tracts of

half-opened scrub-oak and dwarf cedar hereabout

wild asters of

all

touch the hardy all

their

bloom.

Notwithstanding the

colors. little

The

frost-

chaps maintain themselves tree-leaves, too,

some

of

in

them

are beginning to turn yellow or drab or dull green.

The deep wine-color is

of the sumachs and gum-trees

already visible, and the straw-color of the dog-

wood and

beech.

of these perennial

me

names of some blossoms and friendly weeds

Let

give the

1

have made acquaintance with hereabout one season or another in

my

walks:

Wild azalea, Wild honeysuckle. Wild roses, [220]

Dandelions,

Yarrow, Coreopsis,

Specimen

2)ai?0

Larkspur,

Wild pea. Woodbine,

Early crocus.

Elderberry,

Sweet

Poke-weed,

Golden

rod,

flag, (great

patches of

Sun-flower,

it,)

Creeper, trumpet-flower,

Chamomile,

Scented marjoram,

Violets,

Snakeroot,

Clematis,

Solomon's

Bloodroot,

seal,

Sweet balm.

Swamp

Mint, (great plenty,)

Milk-weed,

Wild geranium, Wild heliotrope.

Wild daisy, (plenty,) Wild chrysanthemum.

magnolia,

Burdock,

A

Civility

I

Negiecte^

of them for

The foregoing reminds me of something. ^5 ^^ie individualities would mainly portray have certainly been slighted by folks who make pictures, volumes, poems, out

— as a

many hours

faint testimonial of

my own

gratitude

of peace and comfort in half-sickness,

(and not by any means sure but they will

somehow

wind of the compliment,) hereby dedicate the last half of these Specimen Days to the

get

1

Bees,

Crows,

Blackbirds,

Millers,

Dragon-flies,

Mosquitoes,

Pond-turtles,

Butterflies, [221]

Specimen ®ap6 Mulleins, tansy, pepper-

Wasps and

hornets,

Cat-birds, (and

mint,

Moths, (great and

strange

other

birds,)

little,

some splendid fellows,) Glow-worms, (swarming millions of them indescribably

all

and

Cedars, Tulip-trees, (and

all

other

trees,)

And

the spots

to

and

of those memories days, and the creek.

beautiful at night over

the pond and creek,)

Water-snakes,

April Delaware ?^^®^

5^ 1879.

—With the

return of spring

to the skies, airs, waters of the Delaware,

~

never tire of watch-

Days and

return the sea-gulls. ^

Nights

ing their broad and easy flight, in spirals,

I

or as they oscillate with

wings, or look

down with curved

to the water after food. all

slow unflapping beak, or dipping

The crows, plenty enough

through the winter, have vanish'd with the

Not one of them now

to be seen.

ice.

The steamboats

— bustling up, handsome, summer work — the Columbia,

have again come forth freshly painted, for

the Edwin Forrest, (the Republic not yet out,) the Reybold, Nelly White, the Twilight, the Ariel, the

Warner, the Perry, the Taggart, the Jersey Blue, even the bulky old Trenton saucy

little

forgetting those

bull-pups of the current, the steamtugs.

me bunch and catalogue the affair — the itself, all the way from the sea — Cape Island

But river

— not

—

let

[222]

Specimen on one side and Henlopen

S)ai?0

light

on the other

— up

the broad bay north, and so to Philadelphia, and on further to Trenton;

with, (as

I

live a

— the

good

sights

am most

I

part of the time in

view matters from that outlook)

familiar

Camden,

1

— the great arrogant, inward or out-

black, full-freighted ocean steamers,

—

ward bound the ample width here between the two cities, intersected by Windmill Island an oc-

—

man-of-war,

casional

sometimes

a

foreigner,

at

anchor, with her guns and port-holes, and the boats,

and the brown-faced sailors, and the regular oarstrokes, and the gay crowds of '' visiting day " the

—

frequent large and

handsome three-masted schooners,

(a favorite style of

years,)

some

of

marine build, hereabout of

late

them new and very jaunty, with

—

the and yellow pine spars sloops dashing along in a fair wind (I see one now, coming up, under broad canvas, her gaff-topsail shintheir white-gray sails

—

ing in the sun, high and picturesque

of beauty amid the sky and waters wharf-slips along the city tionalities,

— what a thing — the crowded

!)

— the flags of different na-

the sturdy English cross on

its

ground of

blood, the French tricolor, the banner of the great

North German empire, and the

Italian

and the Spanish

colors — sometimes, of an afternoon, the whole scene

enliven'd

by

a fleet of yachts, in a half calm, lazily

returning from a race rakish,

down

at Gloucester;

revenue steamer Hamilton

in

— the neat,

mid-stream,

with her perpendicular stripes flaunting [223]

aft

— and,

specimen ®a?0 turning the eyes north, the long ribands of fleecy-

white steam, or dingy-black smoke, stretching fan-shaped,

slanting

diagonally

from

across

Kensington or Richmond shores,

in

far,

the

the west-by-

south-west wind.

Then the Camden Sceneson ^j^^^^

Last

Win-

ter's

Nights

or aft

wondrous hours. crossing on the boat, most all to

at night,

myself

— pacing the

deck, alone, forward

with the waters, the

the exquisite chiaroscuro— i\\e sky and

speak no word, nothing to the

intellect,

quent, so communicative to the soul.

air,

stars, that

yet so elo-

And

the ferry

know how much they have been me, day and night — how many spells of listless-

men to

—

exhilara-

soothing, silent,

What communion

!

What

change, people, business, by day!

What

River—

ferry.

ness,

little

they

ennui, debility, they and their hardy

And

have dispeird.

the

pilots

— Captains

ways Hand,

Walton, and Giberson by day, and Captain Olive at night;

Eugene Crosby, with

often supporting, circling,

his strong

convoying

gaps of the bridge, through aboard.

Indeed

all

itself,

over the

impediments, safely

Lindell,

Hiskey, Fred

Frazee

Ranch,

Watson, and a dozen more. And the ferry with its queer scenes— sometimes children

suddenly born

— and

me

my ferry friends — Captain

the superintendent, Price,

young arm so

in

the waiting-houses (an actual fact

more than once)

— sometimes [224]

a masquerade

Specimen ®a?0 band of music,

party, going over at night, with a

dancing and whirling

mad on

like

the broad deck, in

sometimes the astronomer, Mr. Whitall, (who posts me up in points about the stars by a living lesson there and then, and answering their fantastic dresses;

every question,) nine,

eight,

— sometimes a even

ten,

prolific family

twelve!

group,

(Yesterday,

as

I

and eight children, waiting

cross'd, a mother, father,

bound westward somewhere.) have mention'd the crows. always watch them from the boats. They play quite a part in the winter scenes on the river, by day. Their black in

the ferry-house, I

I

splatches are seen in relief against the

everywhere

at that

snow and

season — sometimes

flapping — sometimes on

little

up or down the stream.

and

flying

or larger cakes, sailing

One day

the river

was

mostly clear — only a single long ridge of broken

making a narrow

stripe

by

itself,

ice

down On this

running along

the current for over a mile, quite rapidly.

white

ice

crows were congregated, hundreds a funny procession C*half mourning"

stripe the

—

—

them was the comment of some one.) Then the reception room, for passengers waiting life illustrated thoroughly. Take a March picture jotted there two or three weeks since. Afternoon, of

— I

about 3i o'clock, it begins to snow. There has been a matinee performance at the theater from 4i to 5

—

comes

knew VOL.

a stream of

homeward bound

the spacious IV,

room

I

never

to present a gayer,

more

-15.

[225]

ladies.

Specimen 2)a^6 lively scene

— handsome,

well-drest jersey

and girls, scores of them, streaming hour the bright eyes and glowing

—

from the

air

—a

sprinkling of

dresses as they enter

waiting

have

— the

— the chatting and

capital times

among

women

in for nearly

coming

faces,

snow on bonnets or ten

five

laughing

an in

or

minutes'

— (women

can

themselves, with plenty

of wit, lunches, jovial abandon)

—

woman — for

ant-manner'd waiting-room

the pleas-

Lizzie,

sound, the

and steam-signals of the departing boats their rhythmic break and undertone— the

bell-taps

with

domestic pictures, mothers with bevies of daughters,

charming

—

— children,

countrymen the railroad men in their blue clothes and caps all the various characters of city and country represented or (a

sight)

—

suggested.

Then

frantically running,

human stream gradually thickening

six o'clock the

now

some belated passenger jumping after the boat. Towards outside

a pressure of vehicles,

crates

— now

a

drove of

drays,

cattle,

piled

making

—

railroad

quite an

excitement, the drovers with heavy sticks, belaboring

the steaming sides of the frighten'd brutes. reception room, business bargains, ing, eclaircissements, proposals

Phil

—or

coming Jo, or

in

flirting,

Inside the

love-mak-

—pleasant, sober-faced

with his burden of afternoon papers

Charley (who jump'd

in

the dock last week,

and saved a stout lady from drowning,) to replenish the stove, and clearing it with long crowbar poker. Besides all this ''comedy human," the river [226]

Specimen 2)a?0 Here are some

affords nutriment of a higher order.

of

my memoranda of the

down on

the spot.

A January

Night.— ¥me

Delaware to-night. ebb.

past winter, just as pencill'd

River, a

across the wide

trips

Tide pretty high, and a strong after 8, full of ice,

little

mostly broken,

but some large cakes making our strong-timber'd

steamboat

hum

and quiver as she

strikes

them.

In

the clear moonlight they spread, strange, unearthly, silvery, faintly glistening, as far as ing, trembling,

sometimes hissing

snakes, the tide-procession, as

through

Bump-

thousand

like a

we wend

with or

Overhead, the splendor indescriba-

something haughty, almost supercilious,

Never did

the night.

almost passion,

One

there.

can see.

affording a grand undertone, in keeping

it,

with the scene. ble; yet

I

in

I

realize

more

in

latent sentiment,

those silent interminable stars up

can understand, such a night, why, from

the days of the Pharaohs or Job, the sprinkled with

planets,

deepest criticism on

dome

of heaven,

has supplied the subtlest,

human

pride, glory, ambition.

—

Another Winter Night. don't know anything more filling than to be on the wide firm deck of a powerful boat, a

clear, cool,

I

extra-moonlight night,

crushing proudly and resistlessly through this thick, marbly,

The whole river is now some immense cakes. There is such

glistening ice.

spread with

it

—

weirdness about the scene light,

with

its

—partly the quality of the

tinge of blue, the lunar twilight— only [227]

Specimen 2)a?0

own

the large stars holding their

moon.

the

Temperature

motion, dry,

full

the radiance of

in

comfortable

sharp,

for

But the sense of power

of oxygen.

—the steady, scornful, imperious urge of our strong new engine, as she ploughs her way through the big and

little

cakes.

Another.

merely

— For two hours pleasure—for a

for

I

cross'd

and

recross'd,

excitement.

still

Both

went through several changes. The first for awhile held two vast fan-shaped echelons of light clouds, through which the moon waded, now radiating, carrying with her an aureole of tawny transparent brown, and now flooding the whole vast sky and

river

with clear vapory light-green, through which, as

through

an

illuminated

measured womanly motion.

The

clear,

trip,

and Luna

the

in all

big Dipper in the north, with

much

the double star in the handle

common.

moved with

Then, another

heavens would be absolutely her effulgence.

she

veil,

Then the sheeny

water, dancing and rippling.

plainer than

track of light in the

Such transformations;

such pictures and poems, inimitable. Another, tages, as

I

—

I

am

studying the

cross to-night.

and again extra

clear.)

Pleiades, tremulous

stars,

(It is

late

under advanin

February,

High toward the west, the

with delicate sparkle,

in

the soft

heavens,— Aldebaran, leading the V-shaped Hyades and overhead Capella and her kids. Most majestic

— of

all,

in full display in

the high south, Orion, vast[228]

—

:

Specimen

3)ai?0

spread, roomy, chief historian of the stage, with his

shiny yellow rosette on his shoulder, and his three

kings— and a little to the east, Sirius, calmly arrogant, most wondrous single star. Going late ashore, (I could n't give up the beauty, and soothingness of the night,) as staid around, or slowly wanI

der'd

the

heard the echoing

I

West

calls of

men

the railroad

in

Jersey depot yard, shifting and switching

amid the general silence otherways, and something in the acoustic quality of the

trains, engines,

air,

&c.

;

musical, emotional effects, never thought of be-

and long, listening to them. Night of March i8, '7?.— One of the calm, pleas-

fore.

I

linger'd long

antly cool,

exquisitely clear and

spring nights

— the atmosphere again that rare

cloudless,

ous blue-black, welcom'd by astronomers. 8,

early vitre-

Just at

evening, the scene overhead of certainly solemnest

Venus nearly down in the and lustre as if trying to outshow

beauty, never surpass'd. west, of a size

herself, before departing. I

take you again to myself.

spring preceding I,

Teeming, maternal orb

restlessly

Washington

moody

Abraham

1

am

reminded of that

Lincoln's murder,

when

haunting the Potomac banks, around city,

watch'd

you,

off

there,

aloof,

as myself

As we walk'd up and down in the dark blue so mystic, As we walk'd in silence the transparent shadowy night, As I saw you had something to tell, as you bent to me night after night, [229]

Specimen 2)a?0 my

side (wliile

large to the last,

and shin-

As you droop from the sky low down, as the other stars

all

if

to

look'd on),

As we wander'd together th© solemn

With departing Venus,

night.

dome

ing even to the edge of the horizon, the vast

moment such

presents at this

a spectacle

Mer-

!

cury was visible just after sunset—a rare sight. turus all

is

now

risen, just

In

calm glory

the stars of Orion hold the place of honor, in

meridian, to the south

the

north of east.

left.

And now,

—with

the Dog-star a

little

just rising, Spica, late, low,

Regulus and the

Castor,

slightly veil'd.

On the edge

morning.)

or the river,

to

and

rest,

shining unusually clear, (no Mars or Jupiter or till

Arc-

all

moon

many lamps

twinkling— with two or three huge chimneys, a couple of miles up, belching forth molten, steady flames,

volcano-like,

illuminating

times an electric or calcium, in far shafts, terrible,

all

its

around

— and

some-

Dante-Inferno gleams,

ghastly-powerful.

Of later May

watch the fishermen's little buoy-lights—so pretty, so dreamy like corpse candles undulating delicate and lonesome on the surface nights, crossing,

I

like to

—

—

of the

shadowy

waters, floating with the current.

Winter relaxing The

its

hold, has already al-

As write, yesterday afternoon's softness and brighten Chestnut ^ ness, (after the morning fog, which gave Street it a better setting, by contrast,) show'd Chestnut Street—say between Broad and Fourth—to First

Spring

low'd US a foretaste of spring.

I

Day

-^

,

[230]

.

,

Specimen Daija more advantage

in

its

various asides, and

all

its

and gay-dress'd crowds generally, than for took a walk there between three months past. one and two. Doubtless, there were plenty of hardstores,

I

up folks along the pavements, but nine tenths of the myriad-moving human panorama to all appearance At all seem'd flush, well-fed, and fully-provided. events it was good to be on Chestnut Street yesterThe peddlers on the sidewalk (''sleeve-butday. the handsome little tons, three for five cents") fellow with canary-bird whistles—the cane men, toy

—

—

—

men, toothpick men the old woman squatted in a heap on the cold stone flags, with her basket of matches, pins and tape—the young negro mother, sitting,

begging, with her

two

coffee-color'd

little

twins on her lap—the beauty of the cramm'd conservatory of rare flowers, flaunting reds, yellows,

snowy

lilies,

sion near Twelfth Street beef, fish, at the

glass

man-

incredible orchids, at the Baldwin

—the

show

of fine poultry,

restaurants—the china stores, with

and statuettes

—the luscious tropical

fruits

—the

street-cars plodding along, with their tintinnabulating bells

—the

fat,

cab-looking, rapidly driven one-horse

vehicles of the post-office, squeez'd

going

letter-carriers,

manly-looking, books,

pictures,

so healthy and

in their

curiosities,

in

the

of coming or

handsome and

gray uniforms

—the

costly

windows

—

—the

most of the corners will all remember'd and recognized as features of

gigantic policemen at

be readily

full

[231]

Specimen Da?0 this

Street,

and

avenue of Philadelphia.

principal i

its

have discover'd,

own

points,

not without individuality,

is

even

when compared with

great promenade-streets of other

been

in

Chestnut

cities.

the

have never

I

Europe, but acquired years' familiar experi-

ence with

New

York's, (perhaps the world's) great

thoroughfare, Broadway, and possess to

some extent

a personal and saunterer's

knowledge of St. Charles Street in New Orleans, Tremont Street in Boston, and the broad trottoirs of Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington. Of course it is a pity that Chestnut were not two or three times wider; but the street, any fine day, shows vividness, motion, variety, not easily to be surpass'd.

human

(Sparkling eyes,

with

lots of fine

magand fro—

faces,

women, ambulating to things in the windows

netism, well-dress'd

—are

they

not about the same, the civilized world over?)

How fast

the flitting figures come!

The mild, the fierce, the stony face; Some bright with thoughtless smiles and some Where secret tears have left their trace.

—

A few

days ago one of the six-story clothing

stores along here

show-window litter'd

had the space

partition'd

inside

into a

its

plate-glass corral,

little

deeply with rich clover and hay

smell the odor outside), on

(I

and

could

which reposed two mag-

nificent fat sheep, full-sized but

somest creatures of the kind [232]

I

young

— the hand-

ever saw.

I

stopp'd

Specimen 2)a?0 long and long, with the crowd, to view them

down chewing

lying

— one

the cud, and one standing up,

looking out, with dense-fringed patient eyes.

Their

wool, of a clear tawny color, with streaks of glistening black

— altogether

a queer sight amidst that

crowded promenade of dandies,

and dry-

dollars

goods.

April 23.— Off to

Up

the

tour and

Hudson

to

New

Mr. and Mrs.

little

Leaving the hospitable,

visit.

home-like quarters of

County

York on a

J.

my

valued friends.

H. Johnston

— took

the

4 P.M. boat, bound up the Hudson, 100 miles or so.

Sunset and evening

enjoy'd the hour after

we passed

fine.

Especially

Cozzens's landing—

by the crescent moon and Venus, now swimming in tender glory, and now hid by the high rocks and hills of the western shore, which we hugg'd (Where spend the next ten days is in Ulster close. County and its neighborhood, with frequent morning and evening drives, observations of the river, and

the night

lit

1

short rambles.)

—

April 24 Noon.— k little more and the sun would be oppressive. The bees are out gathering their bread

them

from willows and other

watch or lighting on

trees.

returning, darting through the air

1

the hives, their thighs covered with the yellow forage.

A

solitary robin sings near.

sleeves and gaze from an open [233]

I

sit in

my

shirt

bay-window on the

specimen

scene— the

indolent

the distance

thin haze, the Fishkill hills in

— off on the

river,

and two or three

mainsail,

2)ai?0

a sloop with slanting

little

shad-boats.

on the railroad opposite, long freight

trains,

Over some-

by cylinder-tanks of petroleum, thirty, forty, fifty cars in a string, panting and rumbling along in full view, but the sound soften'd by times weighted

distance.

April Days ^:

Fires

at J.

—^Spnng ~

t-

'

perfect,

is

warmth

the

fairest,

— a lovely

7

from the bush-sparrow— to-

wards noon the reedy

To-day

the pure clear

sunrise,

sound of the meadow-lark. An hour later, delicious some notes, few and simple, yet j and

Songs

26.— At

trill

sweetest yet

veil in

the

air,

of the robin.

— penetrating

partly heat-vapor

and partly from the turf-fires everywhere in patches on the farms. A group of soft maples near by silently bursts out in crimson tips, buzzing all day with busy bees.

The white

sails

of sloops and schooners glide

up and down the river; and long trains of cars, with ponderous roll, or faint bell notes, almost constantly on the opposite shore. The earliest wild flowers in the woods and fields, spicy arbutus, blue liverwort, frail anemone, and the pretty white blossoms of the launch out in slow rambles, discoverbloodroot. I

ing them.

As

I

go along the roads

I

like to see

farmers' fires in patches, burning the dry brush, debris.

How

the

smoke crawls [234]

along,

flat

the

turf,

to the

Specimen 2)a?0 ground, slanting, slowly at last dissipating.

reaching away, and

like its acrid smell

me — welcomer

reaching

The

1

rising,

birds are plenty

than French perfume.

lo

two or suddenly some

of any sort, or of

;

three sorts, curiously, not a sign,

warm, gushing, sunny

— whiffs just

till

April (or even

March) day

—

there they are, from twig to twig, or fence to

!

some mating, preparing to them en passant a fortnight, a

fence, flirting, singing,

—

build, but

most of

month

these parts and then away.

in

phases, Nature keeps up her procession. all

or

Still,

era of nest-building.

oriole will

I

copious, eternal

find flying over the river, I

hear the afternoon shriek

darting about, preparing to nest.

and the warblers.

;

also the king-bird,

cuckoo

All along, there are three

songs

spring

— the

characteristic

lark's,

so sweet, so alert and remonstrating (as

robin —

he

you under-

— the cheery, mellow, human

tones of the

(I

or,

have been trying

term, or phrase, that that robin call)

high-hole.

— and

for years to get a brief

would identify and describe the amorous whistle of the

Insects are out plentifully at midday.

—As

we

drove lingering along the road

heard, just after

sundown, the song of the

April

we

if

''Can't

Don't you see?"

stand?"

pecu-

meadow-

liarly

'*

The

soon be heard here, and the twanging

meoeow of the cat-bird

said,

all

— now their love-time, and

crows, gulls and hawks. latter,

in

plenty of the birds hang around

most of the season

of the

vital,

As

29.

[23s]

Specimen 2)a?0 woodthrush.

The

long.

We stopp'd without a word,and listened

delicious notes

tary, simple

— a sweet,

volun-

artless,

anthem, as from the flute-stops of some

organ, wafted through the twilight

— echoing

well

to us from the perpendicular high rock, where, in

some

thick

—

the bird

fill'd

I

Meeting a

young

trees' recesses at the base,

our senses, our souls.

found

one of

in

at,

rambles up the

hills

rocky, the view fine, with

two rods

patch of land

little

my

^ ^^^^ hermit, living in a lonesome spot,

hard to get a

sat

youngish middle age,

city

A man

square.

born and

raised,

of

had been

to school, had travel'd in Europe and California.

I

met him once or twice on the road, and pass'd the time of day, with some small talk; then, the third time, he ask'd me to go along a bit and rest in first

unprecedented compliment, as

his hut (an almost

heard from others afterwards). stock,

I

tragedy, or whatever

1

Ulster

County WaterfaU

jot this

^^^

j^jjj

*

it

mem.

old and hoary.

or story, or

life,

I

woods

a wild scene of

in

^j^^^^

^ waterfall.

his

was.

^^

j^^y^

^q^q

^q yj^j^

never saw finer or more

copious hemlocks,

some

of Quaker

think; talk'd with ease and moderate free-

dom, but did not unbosom

An

He was

I

many

of

them

large,

Such a sentiment to them, call weather-beaten and

secretive, shaggy — what

I

[2361

Specimen I)a?a let-alone

— a rich underlay of

ferns,

yew

sprouts and

mosses, beginning to be spotted with

the

summer wild-flowers.

monotone

and fall

liquid gurgle

Enveloping

all,

the

early

from the hoarse impetuous copious

— the greenish-tawny, darkly transparent waters,

plunging with velocity of milk-white thirty

wide,

feet

woods, rods a

now

fall,

A

tance.

down

foam — a risen

the rocks, with patches

stream of hurrying amber, far

rushing with

back

the

in

and sometimes three or four primitive

druidical,

forest,

and hundred

hills

volume — every

in that dis-

and

solitary

— not ten a year — broken rocks everywhere — shade overhead, thick underfoot with

savage

visitors

leaves— a just palpable wild and As Waiter

I

delicate aroma.

saunter'd along the high road yes-

terday,

I

stopp'd to watch a

man

near

^Vy p'oughing a rough stony field with Usually there is much a yoke of oxen.

and^his

Medal

geeing and hawing, excitement, and con-

and expletives, about a job of this kind. noticed how different, how easy and wordless,

tinual noise

But

I

young His name was Walter Dumont, a

yet firm and sufficient, the

ploughman. farmer,

work

and son of a farmer, working

of this

for their living.

Three years ago, when the steamer Sunnyside was wreck'd of a bitter icy night on the west bank here,

Walter went out

man on hand with

in his

assistance [237]

—

boat— was the first made a way through

Specimen S)a?0 the ice to shore, connected a

line,

work

perform'd

of first-class readiness, daring, danger, and saved

Some weeks after, one evening when he was up at Esopus, among the usual loafing numerous

crowd the

lives.

at the country store post-office, there arrived

gift

of an unexpected

official

The impromptu

quiet hero.

gold medal for the

him on the spot, but he blush'd, took it, and had nothing to say. to

It

Hudson Sighte

was

a

3Qj^ i^jygj.

Railroad right along the shore.

^^^ grade

is

are in nobody's cars,

stantly,

already

way.

made by

one side

see, hear, the

1

away

off there, night

and sound.

and day

—

locomotives

on

1

like

both

Express trains thunder and lighten

them very

cannot be less than a hundred a day.

down you

— less than a

view by day.

full

along; of freight trains, most of

steadily

you and you

nature;

rumbling, roaring, flaming, smoking, con-

mile distant, and in sight

hesitated as he

happy thought to build the Hud-

are sure of ventilation

and

was made

presentation

long, there

At night

far

see the headlight approaching, coming like a

meteor.

special character-beauties.

The river at night has its The shad fishermen go

—

one and pay out their nets sitting forward, rowing, and one standing up aft marking the line with little dropping it properly

forth

in

their boats

—

floats bearing candles,

conveying, as they glide over

the water, an indescribable sentiment and doubled [238]

Specimen Wa^B watch the tows at night, too, with their twinkling lamps, and hear the husky panting of the steamers; or catch the sloops' and schooners' shadowy forms, like phantoms, white, silent,

brightness.

indefinite,

I

like to

out there.

Then the Hudson of a

clear

moonlight night. But there times

in

is

Some-

one sight the very grandest.

the fiercest driving storm of wind,

rain, hail

or snow, a great eagle will appear over the river,

now soaring with steady and now overbended wings

— always

into, or at

confronting the gale, or perhaps cleaving

times

some

reading

literally sitting

it

hubbub— is

so

artistically.

position of his sionally varied

The splendid

His pinions just

driving

rain,

as

it

against

it,

it

— the

angry

the wind's piping

— he tacking or

were, for a change, abandoning

himself to the gale,

— and

bird enjoys

neck— his resistless^ occaflight — now a swirl, now an upward

(perhaps the ice colliding, grunting)

velocity

like

head and

— the black clouds — the hiss of

— now,

It is

— finishes oscillating — the

adjusted and equal to

movement wash below jibing

it.

natural tragedy or epic, or

first-class

hearing martial trumpets.

the

upon

moving with

now, resuming

lord of the situation

it

control,

with

such

he comes up

and the storm

—

lord,

amid it, of power and savage joy. Sometimes (as at present writing), middle of sunny afternoon, the old VanderUU steamer stalking ahead plainly hear her rhythmic, slushing

—

I

[239]

Specimen Daija paddles

— drawing by long hawsers an immense and ("an old sow and pigs," the First comes a big barge, with

varied following string river folks call

it).

a house built on

and spars towering over the

it,

roof; then canal boats, a lengthen'd, clustering train, fastened

and

with high

link'd together

— the one

flaunting a broad and

staff,

with the almost invariable

others

wash'd clothes, drying aside the tow —

little

three long, dark,

;

two

the middle,

gaudy

lines

flag

of

children,

new-

— with

empty barges bringing up the :

—

sloops and a schooner

wind, and that adverse

People are on the boats sun-bonnets,

in

men

lounging,

stovepipes with

rear.

women

in

streaming

smoke.

New Two

City

24, (I

'79,

— Perhaps

no

have return'd again

make more brilliant, animated, crowded, spectacular human presentations these fine May afternoons than the two ^^^ awhile,)

Hours

am now

tion.

May

quarters of this city

Certain

I

York,

going to describe from personal observa-

First: that area

comprising Fourteenth Street

(especially the short range

between Broadway and

Avenue) with Union Square, its adjacencies, and so retrostretching down Broadway for half a mile. All the walks here are wide, and the spaces Fifth

ample and

free

— now flooded with

the last

two hours of powerful

area at

5 o'clock,

the days of [240]

liquid gold from

sunshine.

my

The whole

observations,

must

specimen Baija have contain'd from thirty to forty thousand finelydress'd people,

looking, children,

many

all

in

motion, plenty of them good-

women,

beautiful

often youths

and

the latter in groups with their nurses

—

the trottoirs everywhere close-spread, thick-tangled, (yet no collision, no trouble,) with masses of bright

and tasty

color, action,

toilets; (surely

dress better than ever before, and the

women

the

men

do, too).

New

York would show these afternoons what it can do in its humanitv, its choicest physique and physiognomy, and its countless prodigality of locomotion, dry goods, glitter, magnetism, and hap-

As

if

piness.

Second: also from

Avenue,

all

Fifty-ninth

5

to 7 p.m. the stretch of Fifth

way from Street, down

the Central Park exits at

the

to Fourteenth, especially

along the high grade by Fortieth Street, and the

A

hill.

Mississippi of horses

and

down

rich vehicles,

not by dozens and scores, but hundreds and thou-

— the broad — them a moving, sands

more than two block'd, but it

is

to

me

I

avenue

filled

sparkling,

miles.

(I

and cramm'd with

hurrying crush,

wonder they don't get

believe they never do.)

the marvel sight of

to get in one of the Fifth

for

New

Altogether

York.

Avenue stages and

I

like

ride up,

doubt if stemming the swift-moving procession. London or Paris or ^ny city in the world can show I

such a carriage carnival as six times these beautiful

I

May

VOL. IV.— 16.

[241]

have seen here afternoons.

five or

Specimen Wn^e

May

—

i6 to 22.

w^ks and^^ almost every

I

day, sitting, or slowly ram-

The whole

bling, or riding around.

Talks

presents

its

month — the

current plentiful

now

Central Park

visit

very best

full

flush

place

appearance this the

of

trees,

the

white and pink of the flowering shrubs,

the emerald green of the grass spreading every-

— the specialty of the plentiful gray rocks, peculiar to these grounds, cropping out, miles and miles — where, yellow dotted

and over

all

still

with dandelions

the beauty and purity, three days out

summer

of four, of our early afternoon,

C,

policeman, C.

skies.

off against

As

I

sit,

Ninetieth

placidly,

Street,

the

a well-form'd sandy-complexion'd

young fellow, comes over and stands near me. We grow quite friendly and chatty forthwith. He is a

New

Yorker born and raised, and

questions

tells

me

about the

life

answer to my of a New York

in

Park policeman, (while he talks keeping his eyes

and ears

vigilantly open, occasionally pausing

and

moving where he can get full views of the vistas of the road, up and down, and the spaces around). The pay is $2.40 a day (seven days to a week) the men come on and work eight hours straight ahead, which is all that is required of them out The position has more risks of the twenty-four. for instance if a team than one might suppose

—

—

or horse runs is

away (which happens

daily) each

man

expected not only to be prompt, but to waive [242]

Specimen ®a?0

— (^^ and face) — give the

safety and stop wildest nag or nags

don't be thinking of your bones or

it,

alarm-whistle too, so that other guards

may

repeat,

and the vehicles up and down the tracks be warn'd. to

There

much

is

appreciate,

men

the

Injuries

I

(Few

and quiet strength.

alertness

have

continually happening.

are

thought,

often

Ulyssean

the

capacity, derring do, quick readiness in emergencies, practicality,

unwitting devotion and heroism,

among

men and working-people

our American young

—

the firemen, the railroad employes, the steamer and

—

men, the police, the conductors, and drivers the whole splendid average of native stock, city and country.) It is good work, though; and upon the ferry

whole, the Park force members life,

They

it.

and the excitement keeps them up.

not so

much

difficulty as

tramps,

roughs,

grass."

The worst

ploye

is

or

Fine After-^j^^ p^^.,^

noon, 4 to 6

fever, chills,

show! and

my

cabs and coupes,

some

crests

fashions,

on panels

''off the

leisure.

fine

foreigners,

— the

full

wealth and ''gentility."

and the

aftemoon.

have seen

I

is

em-

like.

vehicles careering through

^^j^ ^exitci ^

narrowly, and at

footmen,

There

trouble of the regular Park

from malarial

see

might be supposed from

keeping people

in

Ten thousand A

like

all

Such a

— watch'd

it

Private barouches,

horseflesh

— lapdogs,

cockades on

hats,

oceanic tide of New York's It

[243]

was an

impressive, rich,

—

Specimen Daija interminable circus on a grand scale,

and color

in

of action

the beauty of the day, under the clear

sun and moderate breeze. single drivers

much

full

Family groups, couples,

— of course dresses generally elegant

''style " (yet perhaps

little

or nothing, even in

Through

that direction, that fully justified itself).

windows of two or three of the richest carriages saw faces almost corpse-like, so ashy and listless.

the I

Indeed the whole America, either

affair

exhibited less of sterling

countenance, than

in spirit or

i

had

counted on from such a select mass-spectacle.

I

suppose, as a proof of limitless wealth, leisure, and the aforesaid ''gentility,"

was tremendous. Yet took two other occasions, it

what saw those hours (I two other afternoons to watch the same I

firms a thought that haunts

me

scene,) con-

every additional

glimpse I get of our top-loftical general or rather exceptional phases of wealth

namely, that they are cased

in

too

that there

and

plain

is

many at

ill

at ease,

all

in

in this

much too

cerements, and

nothing

need

and fashion

far

country

—

conscious,

from happy

them which we who

—

are poor

envy, and that instead of the per-

and woods and shores, their of soaps and essences, very rare

ennial smell of the grass typical redolence

is

—

something maybe, but suggesting the barber shop that turns stale and musty in a few hours anyhow. Perhaps the show on the horseback road was pret-

Many groups (threes a favorite number), some many ladies frequently couples, some singly

tiest.

—

[244]

—

Specimen Ba^a horses or parties dashing along on a

— a few really

full

run

— fine

first-class animals.

As

the afternoon waned, the wheel'd carriages grew

less,

riding the rule

but the saddle-riders seemed to increase. ger'd

They

lin-

long—and saw some charming forms and faces I

May 25.— A ^/th^*b^^ steamers

I

three-hours' bay -trip from

12 to 3 this afternoon,

accompanying the

down

as far as the Nar-

City of Brussels

some Europe-bound good send off. Our spirited

rows, in behoof of friends, to give

tug, the

little

them

a

Seth Low, kept close to the great

black Brussels, sometimes one side, sometimes the

always up to

her, or even pressing ahead (like accompanying the royal elephant). the blooded pony the first, The whole affair, from was an animated, quick-passing, characteristic New York scene; the large, good-looking, well-dress'd crowd on the wharfend men and women come to see their friends the ship's sides depart, and bid them God-speed

other,

—

—

swarming with passengers sailors,

with uniform'd

— groups of bronze-faced at their posts — the

officers

quiet directions, as she quickly unfastens and

— the emotional

out,

prompt to a minute

and

fluttering handkerchiefs,

some

tears

ship

and such

answering

fluttering handkerchiefs

— (what can be subtler and

of faces on

faces, adieus

and many smiles and

on the wharf— the

smiles, tears,

finer

faces,

from the

than this play

occasions in these [245]

moves

responding

a

Specimen ©a?0

crowds?— what go more

to

heart?)— the

one's

proud, steady, noiseless cleaving of the grand oceaner

down

the bay

— we speeding by her side a few miles,

and then turning, wheeling, amid a babel of wild hurrahs, shouted partings, ear-splitting steam whishands and waving of handkerchiefs. This departing of the big steamers, noons or afternoons—there is no better medicine when one is

tles,

kissing of

or vapory.

listless

I

am

fond of going

down Wed-

nesdays and Saturdays— their more special days

—

watch them and the crowds on the wharves, the arriving passengers, the general bustle and activity,

to

the eager looks from the

faces,

the

clear-toned

voices (a travel'd foreigner, a musician, told

me

the

crowd has the the whole look of

other day she thinks an American voices

finest

the

in

world),

the great, shapely black ships themselves, and their

groups and lined sides

—

Two

with the blue sky overhead.

above

saw the

I

our bay

in the setting of

days

after the

Donau, the Helvetia all off for Europe

Britannic, the

and the Schiedam steam out,

—

magnificent sight.

From Two Hours

7 to

9,

aboard the United States

school-ship Minnesota, lying up the North

Captain Luce sent his gig for us

"Minne-

River.

sota"

about sundown, to the foot of Twentythird Street, and receiv'd us aboard with

'

officer-like hospitality

and

sailor heartiness.

[246]

There

Specimen Da^ja hundred youths on the Minnesota to be train'd for efficiently manning the Government navy. like the idea much; and, so far as have seen toare several

I

I

night,

I

like

the

way

is

it

on

carried out

this

huge

Below, on the gun-deck, were gather'd

vessel.

nearly a hundred of the boys, to give us

some of their

singing exercises, with a melodeon accompaniment,

by one of their number. They sang with a will. The best part, however, was the sight of the young fellows themselves. went over among them before the singing began, and talk'd a few minutes informally. They are from the States; asked for play'd

I

I

the Southerners, but could only find one, a lad from Baltimore.

In

about fourteen years to nineteen or twenty. are

all

from

they range

apparently,

age,

They

of American birth, and have to pass a rigid

medical examination; well-grown youths, good flesh, bright eyes, looking straight at you, healthy,

among them, nor

gent, not a slouch

every one the promise of a man.

many

public aggregations of

my

schools and colleges, in

never been so near

I

a menial

1

—

in

have been to

young and

day, but

intelli-

and of confess I have old,

so comforted (both

satisfied,

and the splendid proof of our country, our composite race, and the

from the

fact of the school itself,

sample-promises of

its

good average

future), as in the collection

States on this

to be any

navy

men

from

all

training-ship.

there ? "

capacities, its

parts of the United

C' Are there going

was the dry and pregnant ÂŁ247]

specimen 2)a?0 Emerson

reply of

who had

to one

been crowding

him with the rich material statistics and possibilities some Western or Pacific region.) May 26. Aboard the Minnesota again. Lieut. Murphy kindly came for me in his boat. Enjoy'd specially those brief trips to and fro— the sailors, tann'd, strong, so bright and able-looking, pulling their oars in long side-swing, man-of-war style, as they row'd me across. saw the boys in companies drilling with small arms; had a talk with Chaplain Rawson. At o'clock all of us gathered to breakof

—

I

1

1

around a long table

fast

among

the rest— a genial, plentiful, hospitable

way — plenty

every

to eat,

acquainted with several visit,

the great ward-room

in

with

dom with

its

—

1

affair

and of the best; became

new

This second

officers.

observations, talks (two or three at ran-

the boys), confirmed

my

—

—

first

impressions.

Mature

Aug. 4, Forenoon as I sit under the willow shade, (have retreated down in

Days and

^he country again), a

Nights

dousing and

flirting

little

bird

me not— takes me

for

leisurely

himself amid the brook

almost within reach of me. fears

is

He

evidently

some concomitant

of

the neighboring earthy banks, free bushery and wild

weeds. fect

6p, m,

ones

for

— The

last three

days have been per-

the season (four nights ago copious rains,

with vehement thunder and lightning). sitting

by the creek watching [248]

my two

I

write this

kingfishers at

Specimen 2)a^0 their

sundown

strong, beautiful, joyous

Their wings glisten

creatures!

beams

The

sport.

and

as they circle

circle

in

the slanted sun-

around, occasionally

dipping and dashing the water, and making long

up and down the

Wherever go over fields, through lanes, in by-places, blooms the white-flowering wild-carrot, its delicate pat of snowstretches

flakes in

crowning

its

creek.

I

slender stem, gracefully oscillating

the breeze. Philadelphia, <Jlug. 2(^.— Last night and to-night of unsurpass'd clearness,

Buiitog—

after

New City two days' rain; moon splendor and star Hall—River splendor. Being out toward the great "^ Exposition building, West Philadelphia, I

saw a

it lit

ball,

up, and thought

I

would go

There was

in.

democratic but nice; plenty of young couples

waltzing and quadrilling— music by a good string

band.

—to moderup and down the roomy spaces —to getting

To

ate strolls

the sight and hearing of these

off aside, resting in

an arm-chair and looking up a

long while at the grand high roof with

and multitudinous work of colors, plays of light

some

(in

graceful

angles, gray

and shade, receding

outlines—to absorbing band,)

iron rods,

its

into

dim

the intervals of the string

capital voluntaries

and

rolling caprices

from the big organ at the other end of the building— to sighting a shadow'd figure or group or couple of lovers every

now and

then passing some near or [249]

Specimen farther

aisle

—

'S>n^e

abandon'd

I

myself

an

over

for

hour.

Returning home, riding

down Market Street

in

an

open summer car, something detain'd us between Fifteenth and Broad, and got out to view better the 1

new,

three-fifths-built

edifice,

proportions — a

of magnificent

show

marble

majestic and lovely

moonlight — flooded

there in the

fa9ades, myriad silver- white lines

and mouldings, with the beautiful—well, will

I

know

me

all

over,

and carv'd heads

soft dazzle

that never

that magnificent pile impress

pressed

the City Hall,

—

silent,

when

weird,

finished

one as

it

im-

those fifteen minutes.

To-night, since,

1

have been long on the

river.

I

watch the C-shaped Northern Crown, (with the that blazed out so suddenly, alarm-

star Alshacca

ingly,

one night a few years ago).

her third quarter, and up nearly there, as

look eastward,

I

welcome again soothing

waves

and

—new

to sight. vital

my

The moon in all night. And

long-absent Pleiades,

For an hour

scene to

the

enjoy the

I

low splash

of

stars steadily, noiselessly rising in the

east.

As

I

F. R., tells

me how

was drown'd in

one of the deck-hands, a woman jump'd overboard and

cross the Delaware,

a couple of hours since.

mid-channel

happen'd

—she leap'd from the forward part of

the boat, which went over her.

the other side

It

in

He saw

her rise on

the swift running water, throw her [250]

Specimen 2)a?0 arms and closed hands high up, (white hands and bare forearms in the moonlight like a flash), and then she sank.

found out afterwards that this young

(1

fellow had promptly jump'd

in,

swam

the poor

after

and made, though unsuccessfully, the bravefforts to rescue her; but he did n't mention that

creature, est

part at

all in

telling

me

the story.)

— Cloudy and wet, and wind due

Sept, 3. Swallows on ^^^^. ^j^ the River

without palpable

heavy with change.

but very

fog,

moisture — welcome

for

a

Forenoon, crossing the Delaware, noticed

unusual numbers of swallows ing, graceful

beyond

in flight, circling, dart-

description, close to the water.

Thick, around the bows of the ferry-boat as she lay tied in

her

slip,

beyond the their

they flew; and as

we went

out

I

watch'd

pier-heads, and across the broad stream,

down

swift-winding loop-ribands of motion,

close to

it,

cutting and intersecting.

seen swallows

all

my

life,

Though

seem'd as though

I

I

have never

before realized their peculiar beauty and character in

the landscape. (Some time ago, for an hour,

in a

huge

old country barn, watching these birds flying, recalFd

the 22d book of the Odyssey, where Ulysses slays the suitors,

bringing things to eclaircissement, and Mi-

up through the spaces of the hall, sits high on a beam, looks complacently on the show of slaughter, and feels in her element, nerva, swallow-bodied, darts

exulting, joyous. [251]

Specimen Da^a The following three Begin a Long Taunt

^q

[)g(^

'y^) /-

.

i

months (Sept. quite a Western

or four

i^iade

j •

.^

r>.

i

^gg^

and penetrating the Rocky Mountain gion enough to get a good notion of

West

it

all.

re-

Left

Philadelphia after 9 o'clock one night, middle

of September, in a comfortable sleeper.

the

i

journey, fetching up at Denver, Colorado,

two

or three

at Pittsburg in

Oblivious of

hundred miles across Pennsylvania; the morning to breakfast. Pretty

good view of the city and Birmingham—fog and damp, smoke, coke-furnaces, flames, discolor'd wooden houses, and vast collections of coal-barges. Presently a bit of fine region,

Panhandle, and crossing the

through the

latter

West

river,

Virginia, the

By day

the Ohio.

State—then Indiana

—and so rock'd

to slumber for a second night, flying like lightning

through

Illinois.

What gj

^

a fierce weird pleasure to

and

and most

my

berth at night in the luxurious palace-car,

drawn by the mighty Baldwin ing,

lie in

filling

me, too,

full

resistless strength!

night or after

— distances

—embody-

of the swiftest motion, It is

late,

join'd like

perhaps mid-

magic

—as

we

speed through Harrisburg, Columbus, Indianapolis.

The element

of danger adds zest to

it all.

On we

go,

rumbling and flashing, with our loud whinnies thrown out from time to time, or trumpet-blasts, into the darkness.

Passing the

homes [252]

of men, the farms,

Specimen Daije barns, cattle

—the

And

silent villages.

the car

itself,

the sleeper, with curtains drawn and lights turn'd

down— in

the berths the slumberers,

women and

children

—as

on, on,

on,

lightning through the night

many

—how

we

of fly

them like

strangely sound

(They say the French Voltaire in his time designated the grand opera and a ship of war the most signal illustrations of the growth of humanity's and art's advance beyond

and

sweet

they

sleep!

Perhaps

primitive barbarism.

if

the witty philoso-

pher were here these days, and went

bedding and feed from

car with perfect

San Francisco, he would

shift his

in

the same

New

York to type and sample

to one of our American sleepers.)

We luri Missouri

should have made the run of 960

j^j,^^

State

fj,^^

Philadelphia to St. Louis in

thirty-six hours, but

we had

a collision

and bad locomotive smash about two thirds of the way, which set us back. So merely stopping over sped on westward. night that time in St. Louis, As cross'd Missouri State the whole distance by the I

I

St.

Louis and Kansas City Northern Railroad, a fine

early

autumn day,

I

thought

my

eyes had never

looked on scenes of greater pastoral beauty. over

two hundred

miles successive rolling prairies,

agriculturally perfect view'd

New

For

by Pennsylvania and

Jersey eyes, and dotted here and there with

fine timber.

Yet fine as the land [253]

is,

it

isn't the

Specimen Wa^e finest portion (there is a

bed of impervious clay and

hard-pan beneath this section that holds water too firmly, it

in

''drowns the land

in

wet weather, and bakes

dry," as a cynical farmer told me).

some

richer

South are

though perhaps the beauty-

tracts,

spots of the State are the northwestern counties. Altogether,

am

I

(now, and from what

clear

seen and learn'd since) that Missouri, soil, relative situation,

and every important and

among

socially

I

Of

Missouri averaged

have heard I

all

sorts of talk,

should have no fear my-

along safely and comfortably anywhere

the Missourians.

tobacco.

railroads,

materialistic respect, stands in

some pretty severe — but self of getting

have

in climate,

wheat, grass, mines,

the front rank of the Union. politically

I

You

They

raise a

good

deal of

see at this time quantities of the light

greenish-gray leaves pulled and hanging out to dry

on temporary frameworks or rows of

much

like

sticks.

Looks

the mullein familiar to Eastern eyes.

We

thought of stopping in Kansas City, awrence ^^^ when we got there we found a train ° and Topeka, ready and a crowd of hospitable Kansians Kansas

which proceeded. shall not soon forget my good days in L, in company with Judge Usher and his sons (especially John and Linton), true Westerners of the Nor noblest type. Nor the similar days in Topeka. the brotherly kindness of my RR. friends there, and to take us on to Lawrence, to I

[254]

I

Specimen Ba^a the city and State are large,

Lawrence and Topeka

officials.

bustling, half-rural,

handsome

took two or three long drives about the

by a

cities.

latter,

I

drawn

team over smooth roads.

spirited

—

Topeka r/aful^^' the Kansas State Silver Wedding, fifteen liverd Speech qj. tweuty thousaud people had been erroneously bill'd to deliver a poem. As seem'd to be made much of, and wanted to be good-natured, Unhastily pencill'd out the following little speech. had such a good time fortunately (or fortunately), dinner, with the U. boys, that and rest, and talk and and did slip away n't drive over to the let the hours meeting and speak my piece. But here it is just the same: At a large popular meeting

at

—

I

I

I

I

1

*'My I

your

friends,

have no poem

bills

am now glad of it.

I

dent in September beauty to,

me

as giving a

— have composed none for

can honestly say

used

announce

but which

prairies

—

perfect

Western

in the

is

poem; but

And

this occasion.

Under these

— amid the peculiar landscape you are — these interminable and

new to me

stately

freedom and vigor and sane enthusiasm of air

I

skies resplen-

and autumn sunshine

—

it

seems

this

me

to

a

poem would be almost an impertinence. But if you care to have word from me, should speak it about these very prairies they impress me most, of all the objective shows see or have seen a

I

;

I

on

this,

my

hither for

first real visit

more than

to the

West.

As

I

have

roll'd rapidly

a thousand miles, through fair Ohio, through

bread-raising Indiana and

Illinois

— through ample Missouri, that

contains and raises everything; as [255]

I

have

partially explor'd

your

specimen 2)a?6 charming

city

by the

hill,

during the

two

last

days, and, standing on Oread

university, have launch'd

my

view across broad ex-

panses of living green, in every direction

most impress'd,

I

and

say,

shall

—

have again been

I

remain for the

my

rest of

life

most impress'd, with that feature of the topography of your

Western its

central

world

own unbounded

prairies,

— that

scale,

combining the

prairies

— how

original

unconfined, which there

real

"1 wonder indeed if West know how much

vast Something, stretching out on

and

ideal,

is

in these

and beautiful as dreams.

the people of this continental inland

of first-class art they have in these

and

your

all

own — how much

of the

influences of a character for your future humanity, broad, patriotic,

heroic and

new? how

entirely

they

tally

on land the

grandeur and superb monotony of the skies of heaven, and the ocean with

waters

its

?

how

freeing, soothing, nourishing they

are to the soul ?

**Then

is it

not subtly they

who

have given us our leading

modern Americans, Lincoln and Grant?

men — real,

their foregrounds of character altogether

who

yet (to those

grounds of the see, in

— vast-spread, average

ideal,

have eyes to see) with

towering high as any.

and

practical finest

back-

And do we

them, foreshadowings of the future races that

not

shall

fill

these prairies ?

*'Not but what the Yankee and Atlantic States, and every other part

— Texas,

the Gulf of Mexico

and the States flanking the southeast and

— the

Pacific shore

and Lakes, and the Canada

line

come, including Canada entire)

New World.

empire

day

is

— the

qua

But

Territories

not yet, but

— are equally and

indissolubly this Nation, the sine

and commercial

(the

it

integrally

will

and

non of the human, political

this favor'd central area of (in

round numbers) two thousand miles square seems fated to be the

home both

of

what

I

would

call

America's distinctive ideas and

distinctive realities." [256]

Specimen Daija

—

The jaunt of five or six hundred miles Topeka to Denver took me through A^Fr^n^^eT^^^^ a variety of country, but

Incident

prolific,

of the Kansas River

(I

like better

a stretch of very rich, dark

and

hour

after

hour

State

— where

some

I

follow the line

the old name, Kaw),

soil,

famed

for its

wheat,

and

plains,

plains

— Ellsworth County, the centre of the I

must stop a moment

acteristic story of early

where

we

— then

the Golden Belt

call'd

unmistakably

Western, American, and on the

For a long distance

largest scale.

all

days

am passing — time

to

tell

— scene the

1868.

In a

a char-

very spot

scrimmage

at

public gathering in the town, A. had shot B.

quite badly, but had not kill'd him.

The sober men

of Ellsworth conferr'd with one another and decided that A. deserv'd punishment. a

good example and

As they wished

to set

establish their reputation the

reverse of a Lynching town, they open an informal

court and bring both trial.

Soon as

men

before

this trial begins the

led forward to give his testimony. in

them

durance and unarm'd,

B.

wounded man is Seeing his enemy

walks suddenly up

fury and shoots A. through the head

dead.

The

court

is

for deliberate

instantly

— shoots

adjourn'd,

in

a

him

and

its

unanimous members, without a word of debate, walk the murderer B. out, wounded as he is, and hang him. In due time we reach Denver, which city fall I

in

love with from the

first,

VOL. IV.— 17.

[257]

and have that

feeling

Specimen Daija confirm'd the longer

was

pleasantest days

stay there.

I

One

my

of

a jaunt, via Platte Canon, to

Leadville.

Jottings from the

Rocky Mountains, mostly

pencill'd during the day's trip over the

^n^sh^'"''

South Park RR., returning from Lead-

Summit

ville,

we were

and especially the hour

(much to my satisfaction,) at Kenosha As afternoon advances, novelties, farsummit. detain'd

accumulate under the

reaching splendors,

sun

in

this pure air.

But

I

bright

had better commence

with the day.

The confronting

of Platte

ter a ten miles' ride in early

Denver

Canon

just at

dawn,

darkness on the

rail

af-

from

— the seasonable stoppage at the entrance of

the canon, and good breakfast of eggs, trout, and nice griddle-cakes

well in the gorge,

— then all

as

we

and get

travel on,

the wonders, beauty, savage

power of the scene — the wild stream of water, from sources of snows, brawling continually in sight one

— the dazzling sun, the rocks — such turns side

and the morning and grades

squirming around corners, or up and far

in

lights

the

down

on

track, hills

—

glimpses of a hundred peaks, titanic necklaces,

stretching north and south

Dome-rock

— and as we

— the huge rightly-named

dash along, others

simple, monolithic, elephantine.

[258]

similar,

Specimen Dai^e I

An

have found the law of my

Egotisti-

own poems,

^ unspoken u but

.,

J

more-and-more cai"Find" ^^^ ^^^ decided feeling that came to me as I passed, hour

1

amid

after hour,

all

abandon— this

mental

absence of

art,

grim yet joyous

this

ele-

plenitude of material, entire

untrammel'd play of primitive Nature

— the chasm, the gorge, the crystal mountain stream, repeated scores, hundreds of miles — the broad handling and absolute uncrampedness — the fantastic forms, bathed in transparent browns, faint reds and grays, towering sometimes a thousand, sometimes

two

or three thousand feet high

—

at their tops

now

and mixing with the and then huge masses clouds, with only their outlines, hazed in misty lilac, pois'd,

(*'

visible.

In Nature's

Dutch

writer,

depth,

if

above

grandest shows," says an old

an ecclesiastic,

''amid the ocean's

so might be, or countless worlds rolling

at night, a

man

thinks of them, weighs

all,

not

for

themselves or the abstract, but with reference to

his

own

personality,

and

how

they

may affect him

or

color his destinies.")

We follow the stream of amber and bronze New

*

Toys

brawling along

its

bed, with

its

cascades and snow-white foam. the canon

we

but seemingly, every rood a

fly till

— mountains we

Through

not only each side,

get near, right in front of

new view

ing description

frequent

flashing,

— on the almost [259]

and each

us—

flash defy-

perpendicular sides,

specimen 2)a?0 cedars,

clinging pines,

bushes, spots of wild grass

— but

dominating

those towering rocks, rocks, rocks, bathed

you

senses,

like,

new

in delicate

a typical

seem develop'd.

joys,

Rocky Mountain canon,

less sea-like stretch of the great

plains,

all,

with the clear sky of autumn overhead.

vari-colors,

New

sumach

crimson

spruces,

certainly

awakes,

or a limit-

Kansas or Colorado

under favoring circumstances,

expresses,

Talk as

tallies,

perhaps

those grandest

subtlest element-emotions in the

human

and

soul, that

all

the marble temples and sculptures from Phidias to

Thorwaldsen

—

all

paintings,

poems, reminiscences,

or even music, probably never can.

I

steam^

^

graphs, etc.

get out on a ten-minutes' stoppage at

comAs we

y)qqx Creek, to enjoy the unequal'd

bination of

hill,

stone,

and wood.

speed again, the yellow granite

in

the

sunshine, with natural spires, minarets, castellated

perches

far aloft

— then

long stretches of straight-

upright palisades, rhinoceros color

and tinted chromos.

— then

gamboge

my

pleasures

Ever the best of

the cool-fresh Colorado atmosphere, yet sufficiently

warm.

Signs of man's restless advent and pioneer-

— deserted dug-outs by — the scantling-hut, the

age, hard as Nature's face

dozens

in

the side-hills

graph-pole, the or outdoor fire

smoke

is

tele-

of

some impromptu chimney

— at intervals

little

settlements of log-

houses, or parties of surveyors or telegraph builders, [260]

Specimen

2)ai20

with their comfortable tents.

Once, a canvas

office

where you could send a message by electricity anywhere around the world! Yes, pronounc'd signs of the

man

of latest dates, dauntlessly grappling with

these grisliest

shows

of the old kosmos.

At several

places steam sawmills, with their piles of logs and

boards, and the pipes puffing.

Canon expanding

Occasionally Platte

into a grassy flat of a

few

At one such place, toward the end, where

and

I

get out to stretch

my

legs, as

or rather mountain-topward, a (a rare sight here)

the ether,

now

is

I

acres.

we

stop,

look skyward,

huge hawk or eagle

idly soaring, balancing along

sinking low and coming quite near,

and then up again

in stately-languid circles

higher, higher, slanting to the north,

— then

and gradually

out of sight.

Kenosha sum^j^ where we return, afternoon, and take a long rest, 10,000 feet above sea-level. At this immense height the South Park stretches fifty miles before me. Mountainous chains and peaks in every variety of perspective, every hue I

Amenca's Back-Bone

jot these lines literally at

'

^

*

of vista, fringe the view, in

nearer, or middle, or

We

have

(Hayden

calls

far-dim distance, or fade on the horizon.

now it

reach'd, penetrated the Rockies

the Front Range) for a hundred miles or so; and

though these chains spread away in every direction, specially north and south, thousands and thousands [261]

—

Specimen Base farther,

have seen specimens of the utmost of

1

them, and

know

and what they look for

what they

henceforth at least

Not themselves

like.

are,

alone,

they typify stretches and areas of half the globe the vertebras or back-bone of our hemi-

are, in fact,

As the anatomists say a man is only a topp'd, footed, breasted, and radiated, so the

sphere. spine,

whole Western world

is,

in a sense,

of these mountains.

sion

In

South America they

are the Andes, in Central America

and

Cordilleras,

ent

names —

in

in

but an expan-

and Mexico the

our States they go under

California the Coast

differ-

and Cascade

ranges

— thence more

—but

mainly and more centrally here the Rocky

eastwardly the Sierra

Nevadas

Mountains proper, with many an elevation such as Long's and Lincoln's, Grey's, Harvard's, Yale's, Pike's peaks,

all

(East, the

over 14,000 feet high.

highest peaks of the Alleghanies, the Adirondacks,

the Catskills, and the White Mountains, range from

2000 to the

latter,

5500 feet

6300

— only

Mount Washington,

feet.)

In the

midst of all here,

contrasts as

the

lie

such beautiful

sunken basins of the

North, Middle, and South Parks, (the

now on one of

a

large,

in

side

of,

latter

I

and overlooking), each the

level,

almost

size

grassy.

by walls of hills, and each The ones specify are river.

Western county, wall'd park the source of a

quadrangular,

am

in

I

[262]

;

Specimen 2)a?6 the largest

Colorado, but the whole of that State,

in

and of Wyoming, Utah, Nevada and western California, through their sierras and ravines, are copiously mark'd by similar spreads and openings, many of the small ones of paradisiac loveliness and perfection,

with their offsets of mountains, streams,

atmosphere, and hues beyond compare.

Art Features

^^^ ^S^^^' ^^ ^^'"S *^ Europe, of visiting the ruins of feudal castles, or ''^^"^'

'

Coliseum remains, or kings' palaces can come here. after the Illinois

The

— when

alternations one

and Kansas

gets,

prairies of a

you too

thousand

miles — smooth and easy areas of the corn and wheat of ten million democratic farms in the future start

up

in

— here

every conceivable presentation of shape,

these non-utilitarian ing a beauty,

piles,

terror,

Angelo ever knew.

coping the skies, emanat-

power, more than Dante or Yes,

I

think the chyle of not

only poetry and painting, but oratory, and even the metaphysics and music before being

fit

finally assimilated,

for the

need

New

first

World,

and feed-

ing visits here.

—

Mountain Streams. The spiritual contrast and etheriality of the whole region consist largely to me in its never-absent peculiar streams the snows of inaccessible upper areas melting and running down through the gorges continually. Nothing like

—

the water of pastoral plains, or creeks with [263]

wooded

Specimen 2)a?0 banks and

or anything of the kind elsewhere.

turf,

The shapes

that element takes in the

shows

globe cannot be fully understood by an

he has studied these unique the rarest sight of

The prairies — as hither — and these

me

nowhere

else

them

my

in

journey

mountains and parks, seem to lights

the aerial gradations

lilacs

gaze around

I

atmospheric hues.

in

is

cross'd

I

new

to afford

all

artist until

rivulets.

Aerial Effects.— But perhaps as

me

of the

Everywhere

and shades.

and sky

inimitable;

effects

such perspectives, such transparent

and grays.

landscape painter,

I

can conceive of some superior

some

fine colorist,

ing awhile out here, discarding

all

after sketch-

his previous

delightful to stock exhibition amateurs, as

work,

muddy,

raw and

artificial.

variety;

high up, the bare whitey-brown, above

timber

Near one's eye ranges an

line; in certain

any time of year; (no at

spots afar patches of trees,

those chilling altitudes).

Snowy Range through far off.

I

no flowers, no

As

I

write

Impressions

plainly see the patches of

^^ to

may

what

saw

Denver, where

there.

see the

half-light of

mo'sX superb of evenings ° ^ I

staid

we

return'd

several

days

with which

memorandum, itemizing The best was the men, three

as well taper off this 1

birds,

snow.

leisurely exploring, receiving impressions, I

1

snow

the blue mist, beautiful and

Through the long-lingering Denver

infinite

[264]

fourths of

And

them

why

Spedmen

2)a?0

large, able,

calm,

American.

alert,

Out in the smelting works, (the biggest and most improv'd saw ones, for the precious metals, in the world), long rows of vats, pans, cover'd by bubbling-boiling cash!

they create

it

here.

I

water, and thick,

fill'd

with pure

many thousand

silver, four or five

dollars'

worth

who was showing me

foreman

up with a

wooden

little

Then

pan.

in a

shovel'd

inches

The

carelessly

it

shovel, as one might toss

worth $2000 a brick, dozens of piles, twenty in a pile. In one place in the mountains, at a mining camp, had a few days before seen rough bullion on the ground in the open air, like the confectioner's pyramids at some swell dinner

beans.

large silver bricks,

I

in

New

(Such a sweet morsel to

York.

with a poor author's pen and ink to slip in

here — that the

silver

— and

roll

over

appropriate

product of Colorado

and Utah, with the gold product of California, New Mexico, Nevada and Dakota, foots up an addition to the world's coin of considerably over a hundred millions every year.)

A Street,

city,

Denver,

this

and isth and i6th and Champa

others, particularly fine

of stone or iron, and streets

with

little

along the sides ernness all

its

out

well-laid

— some with

windows

tall

with

storehouses

of plate-glass— all the

— plenty of people,

A

streets,

canals of mountain water running

— yet not without

own.

— Laramie

'

'

business, "

a certain racy

place of fast horses, [265]

mod-

wild smack,

(many mares

Specimen 2)a?0 with their

and

colts,)

saw

I

some

miners,

just

greyhounds and then groups of

Now

antelope hunting.

for

lots of big

come

in,

some

starting out, very

picturesque.

One

of the papers here interviewed me, and re-

ported

me

visited

all

republic

''!

as saying off-hand:

the great

— Boston,

cities

have lived

in or

on the Atlantic third of the

Brooklyn

with

hills,

its

New

Orleans, Baltimore, stately Washington, broad Philadelphia,

teeming Cincinnati and Chicago, and

thirty years in that glittering tides,

New to

ing

its air,

there

wonder, wash'd by hurried and

my own New

World's but the world's

Denver as is

of

I

human

upon me now

for

much

man

like a

its

city

I,

— but, newcomer

its streets,

breath-

sunshine, and having

what

as well as aerial ozone flash'd

only three or four days, feels

I

sometimes toward

people he meets with, and

knows why.

York, not only the

am, and threading

warm'd by its

for

warms

too, can hardly tell

to,

am

very

certain

and hardly

why, but

as

I

entered the city in the slight haze of a late September afternoon, and have breath'd o'

nights,

its

air,

and have roam'd or rode

and

slept well

leisurely,

and

watch'd the comers and goers at the hotels, and ab-

magnetism of this curiously attractive region, there has steadily grown upon me a feeling of affection for the spot, which, sudden as it must put is, has become so definite and strong that sorb'd the climatic

I

it

on record." [266]

Specimen Ba^ja So much for my feeling toward the Queen City of the plains and peaks, where she sits in her delicious rare atmosphere, over 5000 feet above sea-level, irrigated by mountain streams, one way looking east over the prairies for a thousand miles, and having the other, westward, in constant view by day, draped in their violet haze, I

fell

spend

in love

my

mountain-tops innumerable.

with Denver, and even

felt

Yes,

a wish to

declining and dying days there.

Leave Denver at 8 a.m. by the Rio Grande I

Turn

RR. going south.

thr%~sr^^

in sight in

veil'd

again

Mountains constantly

the apparently near distance,

slightly,

but

still

— their cones, colors, sky — hundreds, seem'd

grand against the

clear

and very

sides, distinct

it

thousands,

interminable necklaces of them, their tops and slopes

hazed more or the

autumn

ever

sun, for over a

show

spiritual

less slightly in that blue-gray,

thought

hundred miles

of objective Nature

1

— the most

ever beheld, or

Occasionally

possible.

under

the

light

making a contrast of yellow-tinged silver on one side, with dark and shaded gray on the other. took a long look at Pike's Peak, and was a little disappointed. (I suppose had expected something stunning.) Our view over plains to the left stretches amply, with corrals here and there, the frequent cactus and wild sage, and herds of cattle feeding. Thus about 120 miles to Pueblo. At that strengthens,

I

I

[267]

Specimen 2)a?6 town we board the comfortable and well-equipt Atchison, Topeka and Santa F6 RR., now striking east.

had wanted to go to the Yellowstone River region— wanted specially to see the

I

UnfuifiiPd

T^e^Arkansas River

National Park, and the geysers and the

hoodoo

''

" or goblin

indeed, hesitated a

turning point

— wanted

land of that country; at Pueblo, the

little

to thread the Veta Pass

—

wanted to go over the Santa F6 trail away southwestward to New Mexico but turn'd and set

—

my

face

eastward

— leaving

me

behind

whetting

glimpse-tastes of southeastern Colorado, Pueblo, Bald

Mountain, the Spanish Peaks, Sangre de Christos,

Mile-Shoe-Curve (which

my

veteran friend on the

locomotive told

me was

the universe

Fort Garland on the plains, Veta, and

"),

''the boss railroad curve of

the three great peaks of the Sierra Blancas.

The Arkansas River plays of this region

—

I

shore, for miles,

see

it,

or

its

quite a part in the

whole

high-cut rocky northern

and cross and recross

it

frequently,

winds and squirms like a snake. The plains vary here even more than usual sometimes a long as

it

sterile

— stretch of scores of miles — then

and grassy, an equal length. of sheep.

Some

(One wants new words

these plains, and

all

green,

very large herds in

writing about

the inland American

West

terms, far, large, vast, &c., are insufficient.) [268]

fertile

— the

Specimen 2)a?0 Here

A

Little FoL-

lower

I

must say a word about a

lower, present even

Silent

— The

J

now

little fol-

my eyes. my whole

before

on ^^^^ ^^^^ accompanied ^

-^

journey from Barnegat to Pike's Peak by

Coreopsis

a pleasant floricultural friend,

or rather

— nothing

more or less than a hardy little yellow five-petal'd September and Octothink everywhere in the ber wild flower, growing had seen it on middle and northern United States. the Hudson and over Long Island, and along the banks of the Delaware and through New Jersey, (as years ago up the Connecticut, and one fall by Lake millions

of friends

I

I

Champlain).

This

trip

it

follow'd

me

regularly, with

Cape May to the Kaw Valley, and so through the canons and to In Missouri these plains. saw immense fields all it. Illinois with western bright Toward woke up one morning in the sleeper and the first thing when drew the curtain of my berth and look'd out was its pretty countenance and bending neck. Early morning still going east after Sept, 2^th. we leave Sterling, Kansas, where stopp'd a day and The sun up about half an hour; nothing can night. be fresher or more beautiful than this time, this region. its

slender stem and eyes of gold, from

I

I

I

—

—

I

I

see quite a field of

my

yellow flower

in full

At intervals dots of nice two-story houses, as

bloom.

we

ride

Over the immense area, flat as a floor, visible for twenty miles in every direction in the clear air, a prevalence of autumn-drab and reddishswiftly by.

[269]

Specimen Da^a

— sparse stacks of hay and enclosures, landscape — as we rumble by, flocks

tawny herbage breaking the

Between Sterling and Florence a fine country. (Remembrances to E. L, my old-young soldier friend of war times, and his wife and boy at S.) of prairie-hens starting up.

Grand as The

Prairies

the child

and Great

the thought that doubtless

is is

already born

who

will see a

most

Plains in

hundred millions

Poetry

prosperous and advanc'd of the world,

imndsr^stouri.

inhabiting these Prairies, the great Plains,

i^toSdor

^nd the valley of the not help thinking

to see

all

of

it

people,

the

Mississippi,

could

I

would be grander

still

those inimitable American areas fused

in

the alembic of a perfect poem, or other esthetic work, entirely

Western, fresh and limitless

own, without a

trace or taste of Europe's soil, remi-

niscence,

technical

nights, as

I

the

letter

travel here

or spirit.

My

days and

— what an exhilaration! — not

and the sense of vastness, but every sight and feature. Everywhere something

air alone,

local

characteristic

wild sage forenoon

— the

— the

circle-line of

for

— altogether our

cactuses,

buffalo grass,

receding perspective, and the

the horizon

— the

pinks,

clear,

all

times of day, especially

pure, cool, rarefied nutriment

the lungs, previously quite

patches and streaks

far

left

unknown — the

black

by surface-conflagrations

the deep-plough'd furrow of the [270]

'*

fire-guard

—

"—the

Specimen 2)a?0 slanting snow-racks built

road from winter

drifts

herds of antelope

— the

all

along to shield the

— the

Fort Wallace (like ships

curious ''dry rivers"

— those towns

on the

and the

prairie-dogs

casionally a ''dug-out" or corral

— Fort

rail-

— oc-

Riley and

of the northern plains

sea), Eagle-Tail,

Coyote, Cheyenne,

Agate, Monotony, Kit Carson — with ever the and the buffalo-wallow — ever the herds of

ant-

hill

cattle

and the cow-boys ("cow-punchers"), to

me

a

strangely interesting class, bright-eyed as hawks,

with their swarthy complexions and their broad-

—

brimm'd hats apparently always on horseback, with loose arms slightly raised and swinging as they ride.

Between Pueblo and Bent's p ^k

^^^

ward,

Fort, south-

a clear afternoon

in

Evening on

catch exceptionally

the Plains

Spanish Peaks.

sun-spell

I

good glimpses of the

We

are in southeastern

Colorado — pass immense herds of locomotive rushes us along — two cattle

as our first-class

or three times crossing the

many

follow

miles,

views, sometimes

Arkansas, which

and of which

for

river

quite a distance,

get fine

I

its

stony,

upright, not very high, palisade banks, and then

muddy houses

flats.

We

— limitless

with those herds of

sun

in

the west

pass Fort Lyon pasturage, cattle

—

in

—

we

lots of

appropriately

its

adobie fleck'd

due time the declining

— a sky of limpid pearl over — and all

[271]

Specimen 2)a?0 so evening on the great plains.

A

calm, pensive,

— the perpendicular rocks of the north Arkansas, hued twilight — a thin of vioon the southwestern horizon — the palpable coolness and slight aroma — a belated cow-boy with some unruly member of his herd — an emigrant boundless landscape

in

line

let

wagon

toiling yet a

little

further, the horses

slow and

— two men, apparently father and son, jogging along on foot — and around the indescribable chia-

tired

all

roscuro and sentiment, (profounder than anything at

athwart these endless wilds.

sea),

Speaking generally as to the capacity and ^^^^ future destiny of that plain and prairie

Characteristic

Landscape area (larger than is

it

any European kingdom)

the inexhaustible land of wheat,

maize, wool, flax, coal, iron, beef and pork, butter

and cheese, apples and grapes virgin

farms— to

ductive

may

while

1

know

Yosemite, Niagara the

it

when

irrigated

be grown enough wheat to feed the world.

as to scenery (giving

feeling),

million

the eye at present wild and unpro-

— yet experts say that upon

easily

Then

— land of ten

like, afford

Falls,

my own

thought and

the standard claim

is

that

the upper Yellowstone and

the greatest natural shows,

I

am

not

so sure but the Prairies and the Plains, while less

stunning at sense

fuller,

first sight,

precede

all

last longer,

the

rest,

America's characteristic landscape. [272]

fill

the esthetic

and make North

Specimen

2)ai?0

Indeed through the whole of this journey, with

what most impress'd me, and will longest remain with me, are these same Day after day, and night after night, to my prairies. the esthetic one most of all eyes, to all my senses they silently and broadly unfolded. Even their all its

shows and

varieties,

—

—

simplest statistics are sublime.

The

valley of the Mississippi River

and

tributaries (this stream

Important stream

its

and

its

adjuncts

involve a big part of the question)

com-

prehends more than twelve hundred thou-

sand square miles, the greater part

prairies.

It is

by

the most important stream on the globe, and

far

would seem

to

have been marked out by design,

slow-flowing from north to south, through a dozen climates,

all

fitted for

outlet unfrozen safe,

all

man's healthy occupancy,

the year, and

cheap continental avenue

its

for

line

fts

forming a

commerce and

passage from the north temperate to the torrid zone.

Not even the mighty Amazon (though larger in volnot the Nile in ume) on its line of east and west Africa, nor the Danube in Europe, nor the three great Only the Medirivers of China, compare with it.

—

terranean Sea has play'd

and

all

through the

its

part in history,

past, as the Mississippi

to play in the future.

welded by

some such

By

its

is

destined

demesnes, water'd and

branches, the Missouri, the Ohio, the

Arkansas, the Red, the Yazoo, the VOL. IV.— 18.

[273]

St.

Francis and

Specimen Dapa others,

already compacts twenty-five millions of

it

most peaceful and moneymaking, but the most restless and warlike on earth. people, not merely the

Its

valley, or reach,

is

rapidly concentrating the politi-

power of the American Union. One almost thinks it is the Union or soon will be. Take it out, with its radiations, and what would be left ? From the car windows through Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, or stopping some days along the Topeka and Santa F6 Road, in southern Kansas, and indeed wherever went, hundreds and thousands of miles through this region, my eyes feasted on primitive and rich meadows, some of them partially inhabited, but far, immensely far more untouched, unbroken and much of it more lovely and fertile in its unplough'd innocal

—

I

—

cence than the Pennsylvania's,

fair

and valuable

Maryland's,

fields of

or

New York's,

Virginia's

richest

farms.

Prairie

The word '^prairie" is French, and means literally meadow. The cosmical analo-

An^

Tr^eT^^

g'^s of our North American plains are the

Question

Steppes of Asia, the Pampas and Llanos of South America, and perhaps the Saharas

Some think the

of Africa.

lake-beds

;

plains

have been originally

others attribute the absence of forests

to the fires that almost annually

sweep over them—

(the cause, in vulgar estimation, of Indian

The

tree question will

summer).

soon become a grave one. [274]

Specimen Dai^a Although the Atlantic slope, the Rocky Mountain

and the southern portion of the Mississippi Valley are well wooded, there are here stretches of region,

hundreds and thousands of miles where either not a tree grows, or often useless destruction has prevail 'd;

and the matter of the

may

cultivation

and spread of forests

well be press'd upon thinkers

coming generations of the

after quite a

Young,

,

giving

up

it

for a

in

Missouri to rest

long exploration

a big volume

Literature

look to the

prairie States.

Lying by one rainy day VaUeT^^^^

who

I

—

first

trying

found there of Milton,

Gray, Beattie and Collins, but

bad job

— enjoying, however,

for

awhile, as often before, the reading of Walter Scott's ''

''

Marmion," and so on stopp'd and laid down the book, and ponder'd the thought of a poetry that should in due time express and supply the teeming region was in the midst of, and have briefly touch'd upon. One's mind poems,

—

Lay of the Last Minstrel,"

1

I

needs but a moment's deliberation anywhere United States to see clearly enough that lent

book and

library poets, either as

all

in

the

the preva-

imported from

Great Britain, or follow'd and doppel-gang' d here, are foreign to our States, copiously as they are read

us

all.

But to

fully

understand not only

lutely in opposition to our times

and

how

lands,

by

abso-

and

how

and cramp'd, and what anachronisms and absurdities many of their pages are, for American little

[2753

Specimen TDn^e purposes, one must dwell or travel awhile

in

Missouri,

Kansas and Colorado, and get rapport with

their

people and country. Will the day ever deferr'd

— when

The pure

— no

how

matter

long

those models and lay-figures from

the British islands of the classics

come

— and even the precious traditions

— will be reminiscences, studies only

?

breath, primitiveness, boundless prodigality

and amplitude, strange mixture of delicacy and power, of continence, of real and ideal, and of

and

first-class

Mountains, rivers — will

original

all

elements, of these prairies, the

Rocky

and of the Mississippi and Missouri they ever appear in, and in some sorj^

form a standard

for

our poetry and art

?

in,

and

some-

my

friend

illustrate

them,

times think that even the ambition of Joaquin Miller to put them

(I

him ahead of the whole crowd.) Not long ago was down New York Bay, on a steamer, watching the sunset over the dark green heights of Navesink, and viewing all that inimitable spread of shore, shipping and sea, around Sandy Hook. But an intervening week or two, and my places

1

eyes catch the shadowy outlines of the Spanish Peaks.

In

two thousand

miles be-

and paradoxical

variety, a

the more than

tween, though of

infinite

curious and absolute fusion

is

doubtless steadily an-

nealing, compacting, identifying

wider and more solid

(to

all.

But subtler and

produce such compaction)

than the laws of the States, or the [276]

common ground

Specimen Bai^e of Congress, or the

Supreme Court,

or the grim weld-

ing of our national wars, or the steel ties of railroads, or

all

the kneading and fusing processes of our mate-

rial

and business

my

opinion be a great throbbing,

work, or

vital,

in

imaginative

or literature,

con-

in

and the MisRiver, with the demesnes of its varied and

structing sissippi

ample

works,

of

series

would

history, past or present,

which the

valley,

Plains, the Prairies,

should be the concrete background,

and America's humanity, passions, struggles, hopes, an eclaircissement as it is and is to there and now

—

be,

on the stage of the

New

World, of

Time's

all

—

drama of war, romance and evolution

hitherto

should furnish the lambent

Oct, IT, '79.

An Inter-

papers of

fire,

the ideal.

—^To-day

St.

one of the news-

Louis prints the following

informal remarks of mine on American,

Item

''We called on Mr. Whitman yesterday and after a somewhat desultory conversation abruptly asked him: Do you especially Western, literature:

'

think

we

ture ?

'

present

are to

have a distinctively American

Mt seems is

to me,' said he,

'

that our

litera-

work

at

to lay the foundations of a great nation in

products, in agriculture, in commerce, in networks

of intercommunication, and in

comforts of vast masses of

all

that relates to the

men and

families,

freedom of speech, ecclesiasticism, &c.

with

These

we

have founded and are carrying out on a grander scale [277]

Specimen 2>a?0 than ever hitherto, and Ohio,

and

rialistic

field of

Indiana, Mis-

me

Kansas and Colorado seem to

souri,

seat

Illinois,

to be the

these very facts and ideas.

prosperity in

other points that

and freedom, are

I

all its

Mate-

varied forms, with those

mentioned, intercommunication

When

to be attended to.

first

those have their results and get settled, then a

liter-

worthy of us will begin to be defined. Our American superiority and vitality are in the bulk of our people, not in a gentry like the Old World. The greatness of our army during the secession war, was in the rank and file, and so with the nation. Other ature

we men

lands have their vitality in a few, a class, but

have

it

the bulk of the people.

in

are not of

literature

leading

much account and never have

the average of the people history.

Our

Sometimes and

I

immense, beyond

is

think

in

all

art included, that will

superiority will exhibit

been, but

departments,

be the

We

itself.

all

will

way

our

not have

great individuals or great leaders, but a great average bulk, unprecedentedly great.'"

Kansas City,— '^i't.^^rf with

what

I

prairie cities. sit leisurely in

a store in

am

I

not so well satisfied

see of the I

am

Main

women

of the

writing this where

Street,

Kansas City, a

streaming crowd on the sidewalks flowing by. ladies (and the drest,

same

in

and have the look

Denver) are

all

The

fashionably

of ''gentility " in face, [278]

I

man-

"

Specimen 3)a?0 ner and action, but they do not have, either in physique or the mentality appropriate to them, any high

body (as the men certainly *' intellectual have, appropriate to them). They are and fashionable, but dyspeptic-looking and generally native originality of spirit or

doll-like

;

their ambition evidently

to copy their

is

Something far different and in advance must appear, to tally and complete the superb masculinity of the West, and maintain and continue it. Eastern sisters.

Sept. 28,

The

Silent

79.— So

General Grant, after

circumambiating the world, has arrived

home

again, landed in San Francisco yes-

terday, from the ship City of Tokio from Japan.

What tration

a

man he

— his

individuality

life

is

!

what a

history

!

what an

— of the capacities of that American

common

to us

all

!

Cynical

wondering ''what the people can see

make such

a

illus-

hubbub about.

in

critics are

Grant "to

They aver (and

it is

no

doubt true) that he has hardly the average of our day's literary and scholastic culture, and absolutely no pronounc'd genius or conventional eminence of any Correct:

but he proves

how

sort.

an average Western

farmer, mechanic, boatman, carried

by

tides of cir-

cumstances, perhaps caprices, into a position of

in-

credible military or civic responsibilities (history has

presented none more trying, no born monarch's, no

mark more shining for attack or envy), may steer his way fitly and steadily through them all, carrying the [279]

— Specimen Da^a country and himself with credit year after year

command than

fifty

over a million armed pitch'd battles

larger than

and then,

all

— fight

more

for eight years a land

the kingdoms of Europe combined

retiring, quietly

make the promenade its

— rule

men

(with a cigar

in his

—

mouth)

of the whole world, through

courts and coteries, and kings and czars and

mikados, and splendidest

glitters

and

etiquettes, as

phlegmatically as he ever walk'd the portico of a

Missouri hotel after dinner.

people it

like

— and

I

am

sure

I

I

How

transcends Plutarch.

say

all

this

what

is

to

me

those old Greeks,

in-

like

it.

Seems

would have seized on him! A mere plain man only practical sense, ability to no art, no poetry do, or try his best to do, what devolved upon him. A common trader, money-maker, tanner, farmer of deed,

—

Illinois

—

— general

for the republic, in its terrific strug-

—

war of attempted secession President following (a task of peace, more difficult than the war itself) nothing heroic, as the authorities put it and yet the greatest hero. The gods, the destinies, seem to have concentrated upon him. gle with

itself, in

the

—

Sept, 30. President

Speeches

—

—

I

see President Hayes has

come

Q^^ West, passing quite informally from point to point, with his wife and a small

cortege of big officers, receiving ovations,

and making daily and sometimes double-daily addresses to the people.

To [280]

these addresses

—

all

— Specimen 2)a?6 impromptu, and some would 1

them ephemeral They are shrewd,

call

devote a memorandum.

feel to

good-natur'd, face-to-face speeches, on easy topics,

me some

not too deep; but they give oratory that

revised ideas of

—of a new, opportune theory and practice of quite

art,

changed from the

classic rules,

and

adapted to our days, our occasions, to American

democracy, and to the swarming populations of the

West. but to ering

and

hear them criticised as wanting

I

me all

they are just what they should be, consid-

the circumstances,

who

in dignity,

who

they are address'd

to.

they come from, Underneath, his

and fraternize the States, encourage their materialistic and industrial development, soothe and expand their self-poise, and tie all and each with resistless double ties not only of interobjects are to compact

trade barter, but

human comradeship.

From Kansas City I

1

went on

to St. Louis,

remain'd nearly three months, with

J.

W., and

my

Louis

Memoranda

g^^

brother T.

dear nieces.

Oct., Nov,, St.

my

where

and Dec,

Louis are

its

'79.

—The points of

position, ^

its

absolute

wealth, (the long accumulations of time

and

trade, solid riches, probably a higher average

thereof than any city,) the unrivall'd amplitude of

its

well-laid-out environage of broad plateaus, for future

expansion

— and

head.

fuses Northern

It

the great State of which

and Southern

it

is

the

qualities, per-

Specimen Baija haps native and foreign ones, to perfection, rendezvous the whole stretch of the Mississippi and Missouri rivers,

and

its

American

German phlegm.

electricity

goes well with

its

Fourth, Fifth and Third streets are

showy, modern, metropolitan, with hurrying crowds, vehicles, horse-cars, hubbub, plenty of people, rich goods, plate-glass windows, iron store-streets,

You can

fronts often five or six stories high.

chase anything

Western cities and cheaply as

in

in

Louis (in most of the big

St.

for the

pur-

matter of that) just as readily

the Atlantic marts.

Often

in

going

about the town you see reminders of old, even decay 'd

The water of the West, in some places, not good, but they make it up here by plenty of

civilization. is

very

fair

wine, and inexhaustible quantities of the

best beer in the world.

There are immense establish-

ments

beef and pork

for slaughtering

flocks of sheep, 5000 in a flock.

had

(In

— and

I

saw

Kansas City

visited a packing establishment that kills

I

and

packs an average of 2500 hogs a day the whole year round, for export.

same

Another

in

Atchison,

Kansas,

extent; others nearly equal elsewhere.

And

just as big ones here.)

Oct, 2()th, 2>oth, on^the Mississippi

^^^^'

and

^'^^ *^^ silvery.

I

and J 1st

^^'^

harvest moon, dazzling

have haunted the

night lately, where

bridge by moonlight.

— Wonderfully

It is

I

river

every

could get a look at the

indeed a structure of perfec-

[282]

Spectmen

2)ai?0

tion

and beauty unsurpassable, and

The

river at present is

very low;

I

I

never

of

tire

noticed to-day

it.

it

had much more of a blue-clear look than usual. I hear the slight ripples, the air is fresh and cool, and the view, up or down, wonderfully clear, in the moonlight.

The

1

am out pretty late:

cool night

air, all

those far-off eternal quite tional

ill

stars,

do

me

good.

o^Y^d

have been

well near the centre of our na-

own

after supper, take a

half a

'^"S'" ^^y^ ^" ^'^ proverb, dryly adding, ''and if convenient let it be upon land."

1

wonder does any other nation for

such a jaunt as this?

Indeed has any previous period afforded discover, begins to

ocratic, indissoluble

or suspect

walk

™^^

but ours afford opportunity

I

I

demesne, these night views of the Mississippi. " Always,

your

so fascinating, dreamy.

the influences, the silence, with

And so,

of late.

it is

it

in

know

it?

No

the real geographic,

American Union

in

one,

dem-

the present,

the future, until he explores these

Central States, and dwells awhile observantly on their prairies,

mighty

or

amid

their

father of waters.

thousand miles,

''

on one's

busy towns, and the

A ride of two or three own land," with hardly a

disconnection, could certainly be had in no other place than the United States, and at no period before

you want to see what the railroad is, and how civilization and progress date from it how it is the conqueror of crude nature, which it turns to

this.

If

—

[283]

— Specimen Daije man's use, both on small scales and on the largest

come I

hither to inland America.

returned home, East, Jan.

and

and

5,

1880, having trav-

and more. soon resumed my seclusions down in the woods, or by the creek, or gaddings about cities, and an ers'd, to

fro

across, 10,000 miles

I

occasional disquisition, as will be seen following.

Jan. Edgar Poe's Significance

I, '80.

^^||g j

—

diagnosing this disease

In

humanity—to assume -^

for

the nonce

what seems a chief mood of the personality

my

and writings of poets,

somewhere

subject

—

have thought that

I

or other on the

list,

present the

Comprehending artists in a mass, musicians, painters, actors, and so on, and considering each and all of them as radiations or most mark'd

indications.

flanges of that furious whirling wheel, poetry, the

centre and axis of the whole,

we

where

else indeed

may

so well investigate the causes, growths, tally-

marks of the time

—the age's matter and malady?

By common consent

man

or

woman

there

is

than a perfect and noble

without flaw, happily balanced

sound and pure, giving

its

—a

life,

in

untiring to the end.

all

morally

due proportion, and no

these,

And

life,

in activity, physically

human

emotional

unhasting,

unresting,

more, to the sympathetic, the

element

nothing better for

yet there

is

another shape

of personality dearer far to the artist-sense, (which likes the play of strongest lights [284]

and shades), where

Specimen 2)a?6 the perfect character, the good, the heroic, although

never attain 'd, failures,

never lost sight

is

of,

sorrows, temporary downfalls,

but through is

again and again, and while often violated,

return'd to is

passion-

ately adhered to as long as mind, muscles, voice,

we

obey the power personality

we

see

more

Edgar Poe.

(All

intervals the

last

this

I

it

to the character is

certainly

But

we do

Byron,

not see

it

in

the result of reading at

is

new volume of his my rambles down by the pond,

three days a

poems and by degrees read took

This sort of

or less in Burns,

and George Sand.

Schiller,

—

volition.

call

on

first

it

all

through there.)

While

outlined the service Poe renders

that entire contrast and contradiction

which is next best to fully exemplifying it. Almost without the first sign of moral or of the concrete or

its

principle,

heroisms, or the simpler

affections of the heart, Poe's verses illustrate an in-

tense faculty for technical and abstract beauty, with

the rhyming art to excess, an incorrigible propensity

toward nocturnal themes, a demoniac undertone behind every page and, by final judgment, probably belong among the electric lights of imaginative liter-

—

and dazzling, but with no heat. There is an indescribable magnetism about the poet's life and reminiscences, as well as the poems. To one

ature, brilliant

who

could work out their subtle retracing and retro-

spect, the latter

would make

between the author's

birth [28s]

a close tally no doubt

and antecedents,

his

Specimen Wa^e childhood and youth,

physique, his so-call'd

his

education, his studies and associates, the literary

and

Baltimore, Richmond,

social

New

York of those times

circumstances in

—not

only the places and

themselves, but often, very often,

in

and reaction from them all. The following from a report in the Washington

a strange spurning

Star of November care for

toward

of,

i6,

1875,

may

my

something further of

it

*'

Being

to hobble

in

the grave:

Washington on

to Baltimore,

up and

Baltimore a

in

and dedication of

public reburial of Poe's remains,

went over

point of view

and influence of our

this interesting figure

monument over

who

afford those

There occurr'd about that date

era.

a

Philadelphia and

a visit at the time, *the old gray'

and though

silently take a seat

ill

from

paralysis,

consented

on the platform, but refused

make any speech, saying: '\ have felt a strong impulse to come over and be here to-day myself in memory of Poe, which

to

I

have obey'd, but not the slightest impulse to make a speech,

which,

* :

dear friends, must also be obeyed.*

however,

circle,

said

my

in conversation after the

For a long while, and until

writings.

I

wanted, and

want

I

an informal

Whitman

had a distaste

for Poe's

for poetry, the clear sun

— the strength and power of even amid the stormiest passions — with always

shining, and fresh air

not of delirium,

still

lately,

In

ceremonies.

blowing

health,

the background of the eternal moralities.

Non-complying with

these requirements, Poe's genius has yet conquer'd a special recognition for appreciate **

*ln a

it

itself,

and

I

too have

come

to fully

admit

it,

and

and him.

dream

night, in a storm.

1

once had, It

was no

I

saw

a vessel

on the

sea, at

mid-

great full-rigg'd ship, nor majestic [286]

"

Specimen Wn^^ steamer, steering firmly through the gale, but seem'd one of those

superb

little

schooner yachts

I

had often seen lying anchor'd,

New

rocking so jauntily, in the waters around

York, or up Long

Island Sound — now flying uncontroll'd with torn

spars through the wild sleet and winds and

On

the deck

was

of which he

and

was the

poems

night.

dim man,

the terror, the murk, and the dislocation

all

centre and the victim.

dream might stand

his

and broken

a slender, slight, beautiful figure, a

apparently enjoying

lurid

sails

waves of the

Edgar Poe,

for

— themselves

all

Much more may be

That figure of

my

his spirit, his fortunes,

lurid dreams.'

said,

but

I

most desired to

By its popular of an age, the weak spots of its sub-currents (often more signifi-

exploit the idea put at the beginning.

poets the calibres

embankments,

its

cant than the biggest surface ones) are unerringly indicated.

The

lush and the weird that have taken

such extraordinary possession of nineteenth-century verse-lovers— what mean they

?

The

inevitable tend-

ency of poetic culture to morbidity, abnormal beauty

—the sickliness of technical thought or refinement — the abnegation of the perennial and demoall

in itself

cratic concretes at first

and

sea, sex

something

and the

for

them

at

hand, the body, the earth

like

— and the

substitution of

second or third hand

— what

bearings have they on current pathological study ?

_

.

Septette

^,

Feb. II, in

'80.— At

a

good concert to-night

the foyer of the opera house, Philadel-

phia

— the band a small but

Never did music more sink [287]

into

first-rate one.

and soothe and

fill

Specimen

me — never

so prove

2)aij6

soul-rousing power,

its

possibility of statement.

im-

its

Especially in the rendering

of one of Beethoven's master septettes by the well-

chosen and perfectly-combined instruments

(violins,

and contrabass), was carried away, seeing, absorbing many wonders. Dainty abandon, sometimes as if Nature laughing on viola, clarionet, horn,

'cello

I

a hillside in the sunshine; serious nies, as of

and firm monoto-

winds; a horn sounding through the tangle

of the forest, and the dying echoes; soothing floating

of waves, but presently rising ing,

muttering, heavy

is in

certain

piercing peals of laughter,

;

now and then

for interstices;

moods

careless — often

in surges, angrily lash-

weird, as Nature herself

— but mainly spontaneous,

the sentiment of the postures of

naked children playing or sleeping. even to watch the

violinists

as

It

drawing

masterly — every motion a study. I

I

did

their

me good bows

birds,

came

and

human

to

me

in their

so

allow'd myself,

sometimes do, to wander out of myself.

conceit

easy,

The

of a copious grove of singing

midst a simple harmonic duo, two

souls, steadily asserting their

own

pensive-

ness, joyousness.

A Hint of wud Nature

^^^'

O'

— As

to-day,

saw

I

was

crossing the Delaware

a large flock of wild geese,

right overhead, not very high up, in

V-shape,

in relief

smoke-color.

Had

ranged

against the noon clouds of light a capital though [288]

momentary view

Specimen Dai^a of them, and then of their course on and on southeast,

till

gradually fading

open

rate for the

and

its

eyesight yet

distances, but

Queer thoughts melted

for reading).

two

air

— (my

I

first-

use glasses

into

me

the

or three minutes, or less, seeing these creatures

cleaving the

sky—the

spacious, airy

prevailing smoke-gray

realm— even the

everywhere (no sun

color

of the — the waters below — the rapid a minute — flashing to me appearing just flight

shining) birds,

for

such a hint of the whole spread of Nature, with her eternal unsophisticated freshness, her never-visited

recesses of sea, sky, shore in

disappearing

the distance.

Loafing in the

— and then

Woods

March 8,— \

country again, but

on a log

Have been

day.

shafts of

tall

dergrowth of

in

in a

the woods, warm, sunny, mid-

pines, oak, hickory, laurels

— everything

down in the new spot, seated

this

loafing here deep

cover'd everywhere

moss

write

among

with a thick un-

and grape-vines

by

debris,

solitary,

the trees,

— the

ground

dead leaves, breakage, grim.

ancient,

Paths

(such as they are) leading hither and yon

(how

made know not, for nobody seems to come here, nor man nor cattle-kind). Temperature to-day about I

60, the

to

its

wind through the

pine-tops;

I

hoarse sighing above (and to the

sit

and

stillness)

listen

long

and long, varied by aimless rambles in the old roads and paths, and by exercise-pulls at the young saplings, VOL. IV.— 19.

r

«

1

[289]

Specimen Da^a to keep robins,

my

from getting

joints

stiff.

Blue-birds,

meadow-larks begin to appear.

Next Day, 9th.— k snowstorm in the morning, and But took a walk over continuing most of the day. two hours, the same woods and paths, amid the I

No

falling flakes.

mur through

wind, yet the musical low mur-

the pines, quite pronounced, curious,

now

like waterfalls,

now

still'd,

pouring again.

All

the senses, sight, sound, smell, delicately gratified.

Every snowflake lay where holly-trees,

laurels,

and branches lines of

it fell

on the evergreens,

the multitudinous leaves

etc.,

emerald

— the

straight

tall

—a

plentiful bronze-topt pines

slight resinous

blending with that of the snow.

it

— no

two

anywhere, exactly

is

a

you can only hardly any two hours,

places,

How

alike.

odor

(For there

scent to everything, even the snow, detect

by edgecolumns of the

piled, bulging-white, defined

if

different the

odor of

noon from midnight, or winter from summer, or a windy spell from a still one !)

A*

..

X

IX

Contralto

May \.

I

and

Sunday,— Visit ,

*C

,

niy friends the

Voice

I.

9, .

J.

did justice

As

the evening

I

—

,

J.

this

evening to

^ which s—good supper, to ,

,

lively chat

with Mrs.

J.

•

1

and

on the walk afterward, in the church-choir and organ on the

sat out front

air,

hymn, Ein' feste Burg, very finely. The air was borne by a rich contralto. For nearly half an hour there in the dark (there was corner opposite gave Luther's

[290]

Specimen Ba^e good string of English stanzas) came the music, firm and unhurried, with long pauses. The full silver star-beams of Lyra rose silently over the church's dim a

Vari-color'd lights from the stain'd glass

roof-ridge.

windows broke through the tree-shadows. And under all under the Northern Crown up there, and in

—

the fresh breeze below, the chiaroscuro of the night, that liquid-full contralto.

June Seeing

u-4.

a grand scenery

4.

architecture, or

Advantage

haps

for

the

five

per-

common

maybe even the mystery

most curious mystery of all

some lucky

— or

time even the

first

sunshine, or landscape, or of identity,

really seizing a great

or book, or piece of music, or

picture

Niagara to

'80.— For

4,

minutes of a man's

— there comes

life,

set

amid a

and bringing the culmination of years of reading and

fortuitous concurrence of circumstances, in a brief flash

travel

and thought.

The present

me

o'clock this afternoon gave severity of action in

Niagara,

slowly crossing the Suspension stop anywhere, but next to still

plain

I

it

We

view about a mile

off,

were very

bridge — not

— the day The

clear,

a

full

sunny,

were in but very distinct, and no

out on the platform.

roar — hardly a murmur.

The

river

falls

tumbling green

below me; the dark high banks, the umbrage, many bronze cedars, in shadow;

and white, plentiful

superb

its

and color and majestic grouping,

one short, indescribable show.

— and

two

case about

far

[291]

Specimen 2)a?0 and tempering and arching all the immense materiality, a clear sky overhead, with a few white clouds, Brief, and as quiet as brief, limpid, spiritual, silent. that

picture

—a

remembrance always afterwards.

Such are the things, indeed, I lay away with my life's rare and blessed bits of hours, reminiscent, past the wild sea-storm once saw one winter day, off the elder Booth in Richard, that famous Fire Island

—

I

—

night forty years ago in the old in

Bowery

— or Alboni

—or night-views, Virginia — or battles

" the children's scene in ''Norma

remember, on the

field, after

I

in

the peculiar sentiment of moonlight and stars over the great Plains, western Kansas

New

York Bay, with a

With

off Navesink.

stiff

these,

— or

scooting up

breeze and a good yacht, I

say,

I

henceforth place

that view, that afternoon, that combination complete, that five minutes' perfect absorption of Niagara

the great majestic plete in

all its

gem

varied,

full,

To go back Jaunting to

^^

^j^^

^ 3,

Green

on a

alone

a

by

itself,

— not

but set com-

indispensable surroundings.

little,

I

left

Philadelphia, 9th

streets, at 8 o'clock p.m.,

first-class sleeper,

June

by the Lehigh

Valley (North Pennsylvania) route, through Bethle-

hem, Wilkesbarre, Waverly, and so (by Erie) on through Corning to Hornellsville, where we arrived at 8, morning, and had a bounteous breakfast. never put in such a good night on any must say I

I

railroad

track— smooth,

firm, the [292]

minimum

of jolting,

Specimen and

3)ai26

So

the swiftness compatible with safety.

all

without change to Buffalo, and thence to Clifton,

where we

arrived early afternoon; then on to London,

Ontario, Canada, in four

hours altogether.

my

I

am

more

—less than twenty-two

domiciled at the hospitable

and Mrs. Bucke, in the ample and charming garden and lawns of the asylum. house of

friends Dr.

June 6th. Sunday

—Went over to the religious ser-

yj^^g (Episcopal)

^ '^fty> good-sized hall, third story.

^"

Insane

Plain boards, chairs,

no ornament or

clean and sweet. sent,

main Insane asylum, held

Some

mostly patients.

whitewash, plenty of cheap color, yet

all

scrupulously

three hundred persons pre-

Everything, the prayers, a

short sermon, the firm, orotund voice of the minister,

and most of

all,

beyond any portraying,

that audience,

ing,

or suggest-

deeply impress'd me.

furnish'd with an arm-chair near the pulpit,

was

I

and

sat

and orderly congregation. The quaint dresses and bonnets of some of the women, several very old and gray, here and there like the heads in old pictures. O, the looks that came from those faces! There were two or three shall probably never forget. Nothing at all markedly repulsive or hideous strange enough did not see one such. Our common humanity, mine and yours, everywhere: facing the motley, yet perfectly well-behaved

I

—

I

"

The same

old blood

— the same [293]

red,

running blood;

"

;

Specimen Daija yet behind most, an inferr'd arriere of such storms,

such wrecks, such mysteries, wealth,

for

fires, love,

problems,

religious

crosses

now

from those crazed faces (yet

wrong, greed

— mirror'd

temporarily so

— the woes and sad happenand death — now from every one the deings of votional element radiating — was not, indeed, the calm, like

still

waters)

all

life

it

peace of God that passeth all understanding, strange as

it

may sound?

I

can only say that

I

took long and

and it seem'd so, rousing unprecedented thoughts, problems unanswerable. A very fair choir, and melodeon accomsearching eye-sweeps as

paniment.

sermon.

I

sat there,

They sang Lead, kindly Light after the Many join'd in the beautiful hymn, to

which the minister read the introductory text: In the daytime also He led them with a cloud, and all the night with a light offire. Then the words: amid the encircling gloom,

''Lead, kindly Light,

me

Lead Thou

The night

is

dark,

and

me

Lead Thou

Keep Thou

The

my

feet

distant scene

;

;

I

on.

am

I

far

from home;

on.

do not ask to see

one step enough for me.

"I was not ever thus, nor pray'd that Thou

me on my path; Thou me on.

Shouldst lead

and see

but

I

lov'd to choose

I

loved the garish day, and, spite of

Lead

Pride ruled

my

will;

remember not [294]

now

fears,

past years."

Specimen ÂŽa)j6

A

couple of days

after,

1

went

to the

''

Refractory

and through the wards pretty thoroughly, both the men's have since made many other visits and women's. of the kind through the asylum, and around among building," under special charge of Dr. Beemer,

I

As

the detach'd cottages.

among

I

could see, this

is

the most advanced, perfected, and kindly and

rationally carried on, of

a

far as

town

in itself,

with

all its

many

kind

in

America.

It is

buildings and a thousand

inhabitants. I

learn that

Canada, and especially this ample and

populous province, Ontario, has the very best and plentiest benevolent institutions in

all

departments.

June 5.—To-day a letter from Mrs. E. S. l^ Detroit, accompanied in a little post-

ReminisC6I1C6 of

Eiias Hicks

0^^^

^^"

Elias

Hicks

^Y

Henry Inman, painted 6o years or more ago,

^ ^^^^ ^^^

(from a portrait for

J.

New

rest the following excerpt

about

*'I

have

listen'd to his

my mother at

York),

stirr'd

oil

by

by

— among

the

E. H. in the letter:

preaching so often

social gatherings

and every one so pleas'd and that

in

V. S., must have been

in

sat with

engraved head of

when

a child,

where he was the his conversation.

and

centre, I

hear

you contemplate writing or speaking about him, and

wonder'd whether you had a picture of him. of two,

I

send you one."

[295]

As am I

the

I

owner

Specimen 'Ba^e few days go to Lake Huron, and may j^^yg something to say of that region and

In a

Grand

Growth

I

From what already see, should say the young native population of Canada people.

was growing

I

I

up, forming a hardy, democratic, intel-

ligent, radically

sound, and just as American, good-

natured and individualistic race, as the average range of best specimens

among

us.

As among

us, too,

I

myself by considering that this element, though it may not be the majority, promises to be please

the leaven which must eventually leaven the whole

lump.

Some

of the

more

liberal

of the presses

^^^^ ^^^ discussing the question of a zollbe^e^Jn the verein between the United States and u.s. and Canada

Canada. for

It is

proposed to form a union

commercial purposes, to altogether

abolish the frontier tariff line, with

custom-house

officials

its

double sets of

now existing between

the

two

and to agree upon one tariff for both, the proceeds of this tariff to be divided between the two governments on the basis of population. It is said that a large proportion of the merchants of Canada countries,

would the business of the country, by

are in favor of this step, as they believe

materially

add to

removing the

restrictions that

now

exist

it

on trade be-

tween Canada and the States. Those persons who are opposed to the measure believe that it would [296]

Specimen Da^a increase the material welfare of the country, but

it

would loosen the bonds between Canada and England

;

and

sentiment overrides the desire for

this

Whether the sentiment can continue to bear the strain put upon it is a question. It is thought by many that commercial considerations must in the end prevail. It seems also to be gener-

commercial prosperity.

ally

common customs

agreed that such a zollverein, or

union,

would bring

more

practically

benefits to the

Canadian provinces than to the United States.

(It

seems to me a certainty of time, sooner or later, that Canada shall form two or three grand States, equal and independent, with the rest of the American Union. The St. Lawrence and lakes are not for a frontier line, but a grand interior or mid-channel.)

August

20,

— Premising

Lawrence

^^ ^^^^

months

Line

among

the

an exploration of the

Lawrence, from Lake Supe-

it

as one

stream, over 2000 miles long,

including lakes and Niagara and partially carried out

seven or eight

my

Canada

this vast

water

question

line,

with

is

all)

— that

programme; but

hundred miles so

that the

far fulfill'd,

have

I

its first-class

I

features

many more

find

by and

— here

writing this nearly a thousand miles north of [297]

the

for

absolutely control'd

points of trade, humanity, and

am

three

the sea (the engineers here insist upon con-

sidering

only

my

Canada were intended,

rest, as

line of the St. rior to

in

that

I

my

Specimen Daija Philadelphia starting-point (by

Quebec)

way

of Montreal and

the midst of regions that go to a further

in

extreme of grimness, wildness of beauty, and a sort

and pagan scaredness, while yet Christian, inhabitable, and partially fertile, than perhaps any other on earth. The weather remains perfect; some of

still

might

call

it

a

little

overcoat and find

it

cool, but

just right.

sunbeams and oxygen. afternoons

I

am on

Up Saguenay^^

miles

high, rocky hills little

like

wear

my

The days

old gray are

full

of

Most of the forenoons and

the forward deck of the steamer.

these black waters, over a hundred

feet,

a

1

— always strong, deep (hundreds of sometimes thousands), ever with for banks, green and gray at times

some

—

parts of the

Hudson, but much

more pronounc'd and defiant. The hills rise higher keep their ranks more unbroken. The river is straighter and of more resolute flow, and its hue, though dark as ink, exquisitely polish'd and sheeny under the August sun. Different, indeed, this Saguenay from all other rivers different effects— a bolder, more vehement play of lights and shades. Of a rare charm of singleness and simplicity. (Like the organ-

—

—

chant at midnight from the old Spanish convent,

in

— one strain only, simple and monotonous unornamented — but indescribably penetrating

Favorita

and

and grand and masterful.)

Great place

for

echoes:

while our steamer was tied at the wharf at Tadousac [298]

Specimen 2)a^0 (taj-oo-sac) waiting, the escape-pipe letting I

was

sure

— could when Then

heard a band at the hotel up

1

ofif

in

steam,

the rocks

even make out some of the tunes.

our pipe stopp'd,

knew what caused

I

Cape Eternity and

at

echoes indescribably weird, as

we

But the great, haughty, selves hills

results,

lay off in the

still

shadows.

their

Etemity and Trinity

it.

Trinity Rock, the pilot

with his whistle producing similar marvellous

bay under

Only

doubt

I

;

if

silent

capes them-

any crack

points,

or

or historic places of note, or anything

of the kind elsewhere in the world, outvies

these objects

They

to face).

—

at least

memory

write while

(1

in

do not

face

startle

one's

in

are placed very near each

A good thrower

—at least

passing

they are as distinct

them

each a mountain rising flush out

side,

of the Saguenay.

stone on each

before

me — but they linger

They

forever.

by

am

are very simple, they

they did not

other, side

I

in

it

could throw a

seems

Then

so.

man

form as a perfect physical

or a perfect physical

woman.

rising, as just said,

sheer out of the water, rugged

Cape Eternity

is

bare,

and grim (yet with an indescribable beauty), nearly two thousand feet high. Trinity Rock, even a little higher,

also

rising flush,

top-rounded

head with close-cut verdure of self well repaid for

the sight and

coming

memory

hair.

I

like a great

consider

my thousand

miles to get

of the unrivall'd duo. [299]

my-

They

Specimen Da^e have

stirr'd

kind

I

we

me more profoundly than

have yet seen.

If

anything of the

Europe or Asia had them,

should certainly hear of them

in all sorts

of sent-

back poems, rhapsodies, &c., a dozen times a year through our papers and magazines.

No

—

and memory andHa-Ha ^^^^ offer'd and will preserve to me no Bay deeper-cut incidents, panorama, or sights indeed

to cheer timi

life

my

my

Chicou-

days and nights up and

fascinating savage

this

travel

soul, than these at

and Ha-ha Bay, and

down

and

river

— the

rounded

mountains, some bare and gray, some dull red, some

draped close vines

all

over with matted green verdure or

— the ample, calm, eternal rocks everywhere —

the loiig streaks of motley foam, a milk-white curd

on the glistening breast of the stream

— the

little

two-masted schooner, dingy yellow, with patched sails, set wing-and-wing, nearing us, coming saucily up the water with a couple of swarthy, black-hair'd

— the strong shades

men aboard

gray or yellow outlines of the hills noon, as

we

on the

light

through the

fore-

falling all

steam within gunshot of them

— while

all.

And

the splendid sunsets, and the sights of evening

— the

ever the pure and delicate sky spreads over

same

old stars (relatively a

little different,

I

see, so far

and Lyra, and the Eagle, and great a silver globe, and the constellation of the

north), Arcturus Jupiter like

Scorpion.

Then northern

lights nearly every night.

[300]

1

Specimen Daija

^te—^ood

Grim and rocky and black-water'd as the d^^^^"^ hereabout is, however, you must not think genial humanity, and comfort,

Living

and good living are not to be met. I

began

this

memorandum

I

made

find smiles

mies

and courtesy everywhere

—

blance

(I

was

— physiogno-

those in the United

in general curiously like

States

a first-rate break-

with wild raspberries.

fast of sea-trout, finishing off I

Before

same resem-

astonish 'd to find the

through the province of Quebec).

all

In

general, the inhabitants of this rugged country (Charlevoix, Chicoutimi St.

and Tadousac counties, and Lake

John region) a simple, hardy population, lumber-

ing,

trapping furs,

and a

boating,

farming.

little

young boatmen but an immense

I

fishing,

berry-picking

was watching

a group of

eating their early dinner

— fiothing

had apparently been the size of a bushel measure, from which they cut chunks with a jack-knife. Must be a tremendous winter country this, when the solid frost and ice loaf of bread,

fully set in.

One time

I

thought of naming

this col-

Like— Names '^^tion ''Cedar-Plums Like" (which I (Back again in still faucy would u't have been a bad Camden and down in Jersey)

•

.

.

\

name, uor mappropriate).

*

/

A melange

r

of

loafing, looking, hobbling, sitting, travel-

ing

—a thinking thrown — not only summer but little

in for salt,

all

little

[301]

but very

seasons — not

only

Specimen Daija days but nights

— some

literary

meditations

— books,

authors examined, Carlyle, Poe, Emerson tried

ways under my cedar in

the library)

—

and never mostly the scenes everybody sees^

my own

but some of

— truly an open

air

—indeed, more

guess or

tree, in

air,

caprices, meditations, egotism

and mainly summer formation

singly, or in clusters

acrid

the open

(al-

— wild and

like

—

and somewhat

free

cedar-plums than you might

at first glance.

But do you

know what

some sweet

parlor lady,

they are

now

(To

?

city

man,

As you go or barrens, or across country, anywhere

along roads,

I

talk.)

through these States, Middle, Eastern, Western, or Southern, you will see, certain seasons of the year, the thick woolly tufts of the cedar mottled with

bunches of china-blue grapes.

But

first

berries,

a special

about as big as fox-

word

for the tree itself:

everybody knows that the cedar is a healthy, cheap, democratic wood, streak'd red and white an ever-

green — that

away moths

—

it is

not a cultivated tree

— that

climates, hot or cold,

fertilizer

away and

it

keeps

grows inland or seaboard, all any soil in fact rather prefers

—

— content

and the trimming-axe,

let

it

it

sand and bleak side spots the

— that

alone.

if

the plough,

will

but keep

After a long rain,

when

my

everything looks bright, often have

I

wood-saunters, South or North, or

West, to take

far

stopt in

dusky green, wash'd clean and sweet, and speck'd copiously with its fruit of clear, hardy blue. in

its

[302]

Specimen 2)a?0 The wood

of the cedar

is

— but what

of use

plums

earth are those sprigs of acrid

A

?

impossible to answer satisfactorily.

profit

on

question

some

True,

of

the herb doctors give them for stomachic affections,

but the remedy

my

is

down

rambles

an old crazy

as bad as the disease. in

woman

Camden County

I

Then

in

once found

gathering the clusters with zeal

She show'd, as was told afterward, a sort of infatuation for them, and every year plac'd and kept profuse bunches high and low about her room. They had a strange charm on her uneasy head, and

and joy.

I

effected docility

(She was harmless, and

and peace.

by with her well-off married daughter.) Whether there is any connection between those bunches, and being out of one's wits, cannot say, but myself entertain a weakness for them. Indeed, love the cedar, anyhow its naked ruggedness, its lived near

I

I

—

I

just palpable

odor (so different from the perfumer's

best), its silence, its equable acceptance of winter's

cold and summer's heat,

me

shelter to

— (well,

from

The

or anything).

the cedar

my

those, at times —

is,

while

service I

cast

the very term I

kind

now

I

its

tire in

spirit

I

want.

the search.

lift

At any I

take

has put before me. [303]

its

love anybody,

I

owe to name for

specially

around

I

—

associations

for a

proposed collection, hesitating, puzzled

rejecting a long, long string,

—

why

never could explain

I

drouth

or

or rain

my

rate,

I

after

and lo go no further

eyes,

what some

Besides,

—

!

invisible

who shall say

Specimen 2)a?0 there

is

not affinity enough between (at least the

many of these

bundle of sticks that produced) or granulations,

ness growing

and those blue

wild — a

pieces,

berries ? their useless-

aroma of Nature

certain

I

pages — the

thin soil would so like to have in my their content in being let alone whence they come their stolid and deaf repugnance to answering ques-

—

—

tions (this latter the nearest, dearest trait affmity of all).

Then reader dear, in conclusion, as to the point of the name for the present collection, let us be satissomething to identify and bind fied to have a name

—

it

together, to concrete

sonal

all its

memoranda, abrupt

vegetable, mineral, per-

raids of criticism,

crude

gossip of philosophy, varied sands and clumps

—

without bothering ourselves because certain pages do not present themselves to you or me as coming under

own name

with entire fitness or amiability. (It is a profound, vexatious never-explicable matter I have been exercised deeply about this of names.

their

— it

my

whole

life.*)

* In the pocket of my receptacle-book I find a for this

volume, or parts of it

As

list

of suggested and rejected names

— such as the following the wild hee

hums

in

:

May,

6* August mulleins grow,

& IVinter snow-flakes fall, & stars in the shy roll round.

Away from Books—away from Art, Now for the Day and Night — the lesson Now for the Sun and Stars. Notes of a Half-Paralytic, JVeek in and IVeek out,

•

As

Voices in the Dusk,

or hid,

[304]

done.

from Speakers far

Specimen 2)a?6 After

got

all

of which the

name ''Cedar-Plums Like"

nose put out of joint

its

throw away what

my

der the shelter of

noon.

Besides,

it

pencill'd

I

;

but

I

down

cannot afford to

the lane there, un-

old friend, one

would

n't

be

civil

warm October

to the cedar tree.

'8r.—And so the flame of the lamp, after long wasting and flickering,

Feb.

Thomas^

10,

has goue out entirely.

Cariyie

As a representative author, a figure,

no man

else will

significant hints of our

doxes,

and

din,

its

;

bequeath to the future more

stormy

era, its fierce

para-

struggling parturition periods,

He belongs

than Carlyle. stock, too

its

literary

to our

own

branch of the

neither Latin nor Greek, but altogether

Rugged, mountainous, volcanic, he was himself more a French revolution than any of his Gothic.

volumes.

In

some

respects, so far in the nineteenth

century, the best equipt, keenest mind, even from

the college point of view, of Embers of Ending Days, Ducks and Drakes, Flood Tide and Ebb,

all

Britain

;

only he had

Autochthons. „Etnbrjyons, .

IVing-and' IVing, Notes and 1{ecalles,

Gossip at Early Candle-light,

Only Mulleins and Bumble-Bees,

Echoes and Escapades,

Pond Babble

Such as

Echoes of a Life in the /pth Century in the New JVorld,

Evening Dews, Notes after Writing a Book, Far and Near at '6^, Drifts and CumuluSj Mai^e- Tassels.. .Kindlings, I

.

Fore and Aft Scintilla at

Vestibules,

60 and

after.

Sands on the Shores of 64,

Tete-a- Tetes,

Flanges of Fifty Years,

Abandons

Hurry

A Life-Mosaic

Notes,

Native Moments,

Types and Semi-Tones, Oddments Sand-Drifts, Again and Again.

[305]

Specimen Ba^s an

ailing

now and

page, and

among

include that

Dyspepsia

body.

fills

to be traced in every

the page.

amazing

One may

— even though length — how behind

the lessons of his

stretch'd to

life

then

is

life

the tally of genius and morals stands the stomach,

and gives a

Two

sort of casting vote.

seem to have contended in the man, sometimes pulling him different ways like wild horses. He was a cautious, conservative Scotchman, fully aware what a foetid gas-bag much of modern radicalism is'; but then his great heart demanded reform, demanded change conflicting agonistic elements

—

often terribly at

odds with his scornful

author ever put so

much

brain.

wailing and despair into his

books, sometimes palpable, oftener latent.

minds

me

of that passage in Young's

and

as death presses closer

No

He

re-

poems where

closer for his prey, the

soul rushes hither and thither, appealing, shrieking, berating, to escape the general

Of

doom.

short-comings, even positive blur-spots, from

an American point of view, he had serious share.

Not

for his

was great)

merely

— not as

''

literary

merit (though that

maker of books," but as launch-

ing into the self-complacent atmosphere of our days a

rasping,

shock,

is

questioning,

dislocating

Carlyle's final value.

lish-speaking peoples had

some

It

true idea about the

verteber of genius, namely power.

always have

it

is

and time the Engagitation

As

if

they must

cut and bias'd to the fashion, like a [306]

Specimen ^w^b lady's cloak

How

What

!

a

needed service he performs

he shakes our comfortable reading

circles

!

with

a touch of the old Hebraic anger and prophecy — and

indeed

it is

just the same.

Not

Isaiah himself

more threatening: "The crown of

scornful,

more pride,

the drunkards of Ephraim, shall be trodden under feet

:

And

the glorious beauty which

is

on the head

of the fat valley shall be a fading flower."

word prophecy

much misused

(The

seems narrow'd That is not the main sense of to prediction merely. the Hebrew word translated ''prophet"; it means one whose mind bubbles up and pours forth as a is

;

it

fountain, from inner, divine spontaneities revealing

God.

The like is

Prediction

great matter

is

is

a very minor part of prophecy. to reveal

and outpour the God-

suggestions pressing for birth in the soul.

briefly the doctrine of the Friends or

Then the

simplicity

This

Quakers.)

and amid ostensible

frailty

— a hardy oak knot, you could never wear out — an old farmer brown clothes, and not handsome — his dress'd

the towering strength of this

man

in

very foibles fascinating.

Who

cares that he wrote

about Dr. Francia, and ''Shooting Niagara"— and

"the Nigger Question,"— and did n't at all admire our United States? (I doubt if he ever thought or said half as bad words about us as we deserve.) How he splashes like leviathan in the seas of modern literature ter,

and

one needs

politics! first

Doubtless, respecting the

lat-

to realize, from actual observation, C307]

Specimen 2)a?0 the squalor, vice and doggedness ingrain 'd in the

bulk-population of the British islands, with the red tape,

the fatuity, the flunkey ism everywhere, to

meaning in his pages. Accordconsider ingly, though he was no chartist or radical, Carlyle's by far the most indignant comment or prounderstand the

last

I

test

anent the

Britain

fruits

of feudalism to-day in Great

— the increasing poverty and

degradation of

the homeless, landless twenty millions, while a few

thousands, or rather a few hundreds, possess the entire soil,

the money, and the

fat berths.

Trade and

shipping, and clubs and culture, and prestige, and

guns, and a fine select class of gentry and aristocracy,

with every modern improvement, cannot begin to salve or defend such stupendous hoggishness.

The way to test how much he has were to consider, or try to consider,

left

his country

for a

moment,

the array of British thought, the resultant ensemble of the last

fifty

years, as existing to-day, but with

would be like an army with no The show were still a gay and rich one artillery. horsemen Byron, Scott, Tennyson, and many more Carlyle

left out.

and rapid

It

infantry,

—

and banners

— flying — but the

last

heavy roar so dear to the ear of the train 'd soldier, and that settles fate and victory, would be lacking. For the last three years we in America have had transmitted glimpses of a thin-bodied, wifeless, childless, very old

man, lying on a

kept out of bed by indomitable [308]

lonesome,

will, but,

of

sofa, late,

Specimen 2)a?0 never well enough to take the open

air.

I

have noted

news from time to time in brief descriptions in the papers. A week ago read such an item just this

I

before

started out for

I

between eight and

my

nine.

customary evening

stroll

In the fine cold night,

un-

walk'd some open grounds adjacent, the condition of Carlyle, and his approaching perhaps even then actual death, usually clear (Feb.

5, '81), as

I

—

—

me

fill'd

with thoughts eluding statement, and cu-

riously blending with the scene.

an hour high

in

the west, with

The all

planet Venus,

her volume and

has been shorn and languid for

lustre recover'd (she

nearly a year), including an additional sentiment

never noticed before

— not

I

merely voluptuous, Pa-

— now with calm comhauteur — the Milo Venus

phian, steeping, fascinating

manding seriousness and now. Upward to the zenith, the

moon

and

Jupiter, Saturn,

past her quarter, trailing in procession,

with the Pleiades following, and the constellation Taurus, and red Aldebaran.

Not a cloud

in

heaven.

Orion strode through the southeast, with his ing belt Sirius.

— and a

trifle

Every

star

than usual.

Not

glitter-

below hung the sun of the night, dilated, more vitreous, nearer

as in

some

clear nights

larger stars entirely outshine the rest. star or cluster just as distinctly visible,

when

Every

the

little

and just as

showing every gem, and new ones. To the northeast and north the Sickle, the Goat and Kids, Cassiopeia, Castor and Pollux, and nigh.

Berenice's hair

[309]

Specimen 2)a?0 the

While through the whole of this indescribable show, inclosing and bathing my

two

silent

whole

Dippers.

receptivity, ran the

(To soothe and

thought of Carlyle dying.

spiritualize, and, as far as

may

be,

solve the mysteries of death and genius, consider

them under the

stars at midnight.)

And now that he has gone hence, can it be that Thomas Carlyle, soon to chemically dissolve in ashes and by winds, remains an identity perhaps eluding

all

statements to mortal sense nite, vital being, a spirit,

wafted

in

space

In

ways

the statements, lore and specula-

often thousand years

tions

still?

— eluding

—does he yet

all

possible

exist, a defi-

an individual— perhaps

among those

stellar

now

systems, which,

suggestive and limitless as they are, merely edge more limitless, far more suggestive systems? have no I

doubt of

it.

In silence, of a fine night,

such questions

are answer'd to the soul, the best answers that can be

With me,

given. cially

depress'd by

is

from f^ppoft

Points of

View and'joS^^*'

result

I

some

wait till

I

spe-

go out

for the last voiceless satisfaction.

There

and

when

sad event, or tearing problem,

under the stars

Carlyle

too,

surely at present an inexplicable (all

the more piquant from

its

between that deceased author and our United States of America —no matter whether it lasts or not. As we Westerners assume definite shape, in formations and fruitage unknown before, contradictoriness)

[310]

Specimen Daue what a new sense our eyes turn

curious with

it is

to

representative outgrowths of crises and personages in

Beyond

the Old World.

question, since Carlyle's

death,^and the publication of Froude's memoirs, not only the interest bit regarding the

his books, but every personal

in

famous Scotchman—his dyspepsia, paragon of a wife,

his buffetings, his parentage, his

Edinburgh,

his career in

in

the lonesome nest on

many

Craigenputtock moor, and then so

London

—

is

probably wider and

country than or no,

in his

own

to-day

livelier

Whether

land.

years in

I

in this

succeed

and taking of humanity and

too, reaching across the Atlantic

I,

the man's dark fortune

-

telling

would offset it all (such is the fancy that comes to me) by a far more profound horoscopecasting of those themes G. F. Hegel's.t politics,

—

*It will be &c.,

—to

the

way

for

it

for the

he has color'd

all

the future

difficult for

account

its

—^judging by

deep hold

this

his

method and thought.

as affecting myself.

books, personal dis-sympathies,

author has taken on the present age, and 1

am

certainly at a loss to account

But there could be no view, or even

partial picture,

of the middle and latter part of our nineteenth century, that did not markedly in-

clude of

Thomas

art,

In his case (as so

Carlyle.

many

others, literary productions,

personal identities, events,) there has been an impalpable something

than the palpable.

effective

have a

definite,

special,

Then

I

find

no

better text

out certain speculations and comparisons for

amount

to

(it is

man to home use.

even oppositional, living

—those reactionary doctrines,

fears, scornful

works more

always important to

start from) for

sending

Let us see what they

analyses of democracy

— even

from the most erudite and sincere mind of Europe. f

Not the

least

mentionable part of the case

with which history and of

my

(a streak,

it

fate love to contrast their gravity)

may is

be, of that

great authorities during their lives consider'd the United States

serious mention,

all

humor

that although neither

worthy of

the principal works of both might not inappropriately be this

day collected and bound up under the conspicuous title: Speculations for the use of North America, and Democracy there with the relations of the same to Metaphysics, including Lessons and IVarnings (encouragements toOy and of the vastest)

from

the

Old World

to the

New. [311]

— Specimen Da^a First,

about a chance, a never-fulfiU'd vacuity of

this pale cast of

thought

—this

British

Hamlet from

Cheyne Row, more puzzling than the Danish with his contrivances

one,

broken and

for settling the

spavin'd joints of the world's government, especially its

democratic dislocation.

Carlyle's grim fate

was

and dwell in, and largely embody, the agony and qualms of the old order, amid

cast to live

parturition

crowded accumulations of ghastly morbidity, giving birth to the new. But conceive of him (or his parents before him) coming to America, recuperated by the cheering realities and activity of our people and country growing up and delving face-to-face

—

resolutely

among

us here, especially at the

West

inhaling and exhaling our limitless air and eligibilities

— devoting ments of

his

to the theories

this Republic,

exemplified

in

or Louisiana.

ings

mind

amid

its

Kansas, Missouri, I

practical facts as

Illinois,

Tennessee,

say facts, and face-to-face confront-

—so different from books, and

and mere reports

and develop-

in

the

libraries,

all

those quiddities

upon which the man

was wittily said of him at the age of thirty, that there was no one in Scotland who had glean'd so much and seen so little,) almost wholly fed, and which even his sturdy and vital mind but reflected at best. (it

Something of the sort narrowly escaped happening. In 1835, after more than a dozen years of trial and non-success, the author of Sartor Resartus removing to London, very poor, a confirmed hypochondriac, [312]

Specimen Dape no literary prospects ahead, deliberately settled on one last casting throw of the literary dice— resolv'd to compose and launch forth a book on the subject of the French Revolution —and if that won no higher guerdon or prize than hitherto, to sternly abandon the trade of author forever, and emigrate for good to America. But the venture turn'd out a lucky one, and there was no emigration. Sartor universally scoffed

work

Carlyle's

in

at,

the sphere of literature as he

commenced and carried it out, is the same in one two leading respects that Immanuel Kant's was

or in

But the Scotchman had

speculative philosophy.

none of the stomachic phlegm and never perturb'd placidity of the Konigsberg sage, and did not, like the

latter,

understand his

own

limits,

He

he got to the end of them.

and stop when

clears

away

jungle

and poison-vines and underbrush— at any rate hacks valiantly at them, smiting hip and thigh. Kant did the like in his sphere, and it was all he profess'd to do; his labors have left the ground fully prepared ever since and greater service was probably never perform'd by mortal man. But the pang and hiatus of Carlyle seem to me to consist in the evidence everywhere that amid a whirl of fog and fury and

—

cross-purposes, he firmly believ'd he had a clue to

the medication of the world's

was

mission *

I

hope

I

shall

to exploit

not myself

specific for indispensable evils.

fall

ills,

and that his bounden

it.*

into the error

I

charge upon him, of prescribing a

My utmost pretension [313]

is

probably but to

offset that

Specimen Bai^a There were two anchors, or sheet-anchors,

One

steadying, as a last resort, the Carlylean ship. will

for

The other, perhaps the be found in some mark'd form of

be specified presently.

main,

was only

to

personal force, an extreme degree of competent urge

and

man

will, a

or

men

born to command."

''

Prob-

ably there ran through every vein and current of the

Scotchman's blood something that warm'd up to

this

and character above aught else in the world, and which makes him in my opinion the chief kind of

trait

celebrater

and promulger of

in

it

literature

than Plutarch, more than Shakspere.

masses of humanity stand

for

— more

The

nothing

— at

great least

nothing but nebulous raw material; only the big

and shining suns

planets

for

most invariably languid or forceful personality

was

cold,

ideas al-

number-one

a

sure to rouse his eulogistic

passion and savage joy.

In

standard of duty hereinafter

and

To

him.

such case, even the rais'd,

was

to be in-

comprehended under the terms republicanism and democracy were distasteful to him from the first, and as he grew older they became hateful and contemptible. For an undoubtedly candid and penetrating faculty such as his, the bearings he persistently ignored were marvellous. For instance, the promise, nay certainty, of stantly lower'd

vail'd.

All that is

old claim of the exclusively curative pov/er of first-class individual men, as leaders

and

rulers,

by the

claims,

of the latter kind seems to

of the modern

— or rather,

and general movement and

me 1

result,

of ideas.

Something

the distinctive theory of America, of democracy,

should say,

it is

[314]

democracy, and

is

the modern.

and

Specimen Dai?^ the democratic principle, to each and every State of the current world, not so fect legislators

method

ual

much

of helping

it

to per-

and executives, but as the only

for

effect-

however slowly, training toward voluntarily ruling and

surely,

people on a large scale

managing themselves (the ultimate aim of political and all other development) to gradually reduce the fact oi governing io its minimum, and to subject all its staffs and their doings to the telescopes and microscopes of committees and parties and greatest of all, to afford (not stagnation and obedient content, which went well enough with the feudalism and ecclesiasticism of the antique and medieval world, but) a vast and sane and recurrent ebb and tide

—

—

action for those floods of the great deep that have

henceforth palpably burst forever their old

bounds-

seem never to have entered Carlyle's thought. It was splendid how he refus'd any compromise to the last. He was curiously antique. In that harsh, picturesque, most potent voice and figure, one seems to be carried back from the present of the British

more than two thousand years, His between Jerusalem and Tarsus. islands

to the range fullest

best

biographer justly says of him: *'He was a teacher and a prophet, in the Jewish sense of the

word.

The prophesies of

part of the

permanent

Isaiah

and Jeremiah have become a

spiritual inheritance of

mankind, because

events proved that they had interpreted correctly the sign of their

own

times,

and

their prophesies [315]

were

fulfiH'd.

Carlyle,

Specimen 2)a^0 them, believ'd that he had a special message to deliver to the

like

Whether he was correct in that belief, and whether his message was a true message, remains to be seen. He has told us that our most cherish'd ideas of political liberty, with present age.

their kindred corollaries, are

mere

illusions,

which has seem'd to go along with them anarchy and social dissolution.

used

The

powers.

his

If

and that the progress a progress towards

is

he was wrong, he has mis-

He

principles of his teachings are false.

has offer'd himself as a guide upon a road of which he had no

knowledge; and iest oblivion

his

own

desire for himself

both of his person and his works.

hand, he has been right

;

if,

place

authenticated by

is

among

on the other

If,

he has

like his great predecessors,

modern age of

read truly the tendencies of this

teaching

would be the speed-

facts,

and

ours,

his

then Carlyle, too, will take his

the inspired seers."

To which

add an amendment that under no circumstances, and no matter how completely time and events disprove his lurid vaticinations, should I

the English-speaking world forget this man, nor

fail

honor his unsurpass'd conscience, his unique method, and his honest fame. Never were

to hold

in

convictions more earnest and genuine. there less of a flunkey or temporizer. political

progressivism a foe

it

Never was Never had

could more heartily

respect.

The second main

point of Carlyle's utterance

the idea of duty being done, codicil —

means

if it

(It

is

simply a

be particularly new, which

certain

— on

is

was

new

by no

the time-honor'd bequest of

dynasticism, the mould-eaten rules of legitimacy and [316]

Specimen 2)a?0 kings.)

He seems

times to madness

to have been impatient

when reminded by

some-

persons

who

vthought at least as deeply as himself, that this formula, though precious, is rather a vague one, and that there are

many

other considerations to a philo-

sophical estimate of each and every department either in

general history or individual Altogether,

1

don't

know

affairs.

anything more amazing

than these persistent strides and throbbings so

through our nineteenth century of perhaps

its

far

big-

and most erudite brain, in defiance and discontent with everything; contemptuously ig-

gest, sharpest,

noring (either from constitutional inaptitude, ignorance

itself,

or

more

definite cure-all here

likely

because he demanded a

and now) the only solace and

solvent to be had.

There

is,

apart from

of every superior

mere

human

intellect, in

identity (in

its

the make-up

moral com-

pleteness, considered as ensemble, not for that moral

whole being, including physique) a wondrous something that realizes without argument, frequently without what is called education think it the goal and apex of all edu(though cation deserving the name) an intuition of the absolute balance, in time and space, of the whole of alone, but for the

I

this multifarious,

mad

chaos of fraud,

frivolity,

hog-

gishness— this revel of fools, and incredible makebelieve and general unsettledness, we call the world; a soul-sight of that divine clue and unseen thread [317]

Specimen

2)ai20

which holds the whole congeries of things, all history and time, and all events, however trivial, however momentous, like a leash'd dog in the hand of the Such soul-sight and root-centre for the hunter. mere optimism explains only the surface mind

—

it— Carlyle was mostly, perhaps entirely, He seems instead to have been haunted in without. the play of his mental action by a spectre, never enor fringe of

tirely laid

find the

ing

from

first

to last (Greek scholars,

I

believe,

same mocking and fantastic apparition attend-

Aristophanes,

comedies)

his

— the

spectre of

world-destruction.

How war

largest

failure in

human

life,

may depend on some little hidden

or peace,

trality,

triumph or

in

cen-

hardly more than a drop of blood, a pulse-beat,

or a breath of

air!

certain that

It is

all

these weighty

democracy in America, Carlyleism, and the temperament for deepest political or literary exploration, turn on a simple point in speculative philosophy. The most profound theme that can occupy the mind of man the problem on whose solution science, art, the bases and pursuits of nations, and matters,

—

everything

else,

including intelligent

ness (here to-day, 1882, the same as resting, is

all

depends

times, for

New York, Texas, all

lands), subtly

in

the query:

fusing explanation and tie

the

happi-

California,

and

finally

competent outset and argument,

doubtless involved

tween

human

(radical,

— what

democratic) [318]

What

is

the

the relation be-

Me, the

human

specimen Dai^a identity of understanding, emotions, spirit, &c.,

on

the one side, of and with the (conservative) Not Me,

the whole of the material objective universe and

with

laws,

what

them in time and Immanuel Kant, though

behind

is

space, on the other side ?

he

or

explain'd

said, the

partially

human

laws of the

question an open one. gestion of answer, ant, as far as

it

explain'd,

understanding,

left this

Schelling's answer, or sug-

(and very valuable and import-

is

goes) that the same general and

even the standards

particular intelligence, passion,

of right and wrong,

formulated state

in

which man,

exist in a conscious exist in

state, or in perceptible analogies,

and

an unconscious

throughout the en-

universe of external Nature, in

tire

may be

as

all

its

objects

and all its movements and processes thus making the impalpable human mind, and

large or small,

—

concrete nature, notwithstanding their duality and separation, convertible,

one. ter

But G.

F.

and

in centrality

and essence

Hegel's fuller statement of the mat-

probably remains the

last best

word

that has been'

upon it, up to date. Substantially adopting the scheme just epitomized, he so carries it out and fortifies it and merges everything in it, with certain said

serious gaps

comes stantial

now

a coherent

answer

for

the

time

fill'd,

that

it

be-

metaphysical system, and sub-

(as far as there can

the foregoing question distinctly

first

—a

be any answer) to

system which, while

admit that the brain of the future [319]

I

may add

Specimen Dapa to, revise,

beams

and even

entirely reconstruct, at

forth to-day, in

its

any

rate

entirety, illuminating the

thought of the universe, and satisfying the mystery thereof to the scientific

human mind, with

a

more consoling

assurance than any yet.

whole earth (an old the Vedas, and no doubt

According to Hegel

the

nucleus-thought, as in

before, but never hitherto

brought so absolutely to

the front, fully surcharged with modern scientism

and

facts,

all),

with

and made the its infinite

ings of to-day, or

sole entrance to each

and

variety, the past, the surround-

what may happen

in

the future,

the contrarieties of material with spiritual, and of natural with semblist,

artificial,

are

all,

to the eye of the en-

but necessary sides and unfoldings, different

steps or links, in the endless process of Creative

thought, which, amid numberless apparent failures

and contradictions, never-broken at

all,

is

held together by central and

unity — not

contradictions or failures

but radiations of one consistent and eternal

purpose; the whole mass of everything steadily, unerringly tending and flowing toward the permanent utile

and morale, as

rivers to oceans.

As

life is

the

whole law and incessant effort of the visible universe, and death only the other or invisible side of the same, so the utile, so truth, so health are the continuous-

immutable laws of the moral universe, and vice and disease, with

even

if

all

their perturbations, are but transient,

ever so prevalent expressions. [320]

.

Specimen 2)a^a

To

politics

throughout, Hegel applies the

and

catholic standard

Not any one

faith.

any one form of government,

A

of objects to each other.

may

rule as outrageously

oligarchy or despotism

But the great

so.

—

party, or

absolutely and ex-

is

Truth consists

clusively true.

like

in

the just relations

majority or democracy

and do as great harm as an though far less likely to do the

evil is either a violation of

The

relations just referr'd to, or of the moral law.

specious, the unjust, the cruel, and

what

is

called

the unnatural, though not only permitted but in a certain sense (like

shade to

divine scheme, are

by the whole

scheme,

light)

partial, inconsistent,

inevitable in the

constitution of that

temporary, and though

having ever so great an ostensible majority, are certainly destined

to

failures,

after

translates

into

causing great

suffering.

Theology, apparent

contradictions

by

Deific nature

points

all

in

are

of one

but fractional and imperfect essential

to be regarded both it

in

our

as

distinct

own

or distorted parts,

and united.

In

summing

up),

form, or

inscrutable combination of train'd

most *I

which

from

unity,

that thinker or analyzer or overlooker

intuition

who by

wisdom and

indebted to

J.

Gostick's abstract.

an

natural

fully accepts in perfect faith the

am much

All

statement of the

the

proceed— crude endeavors

short (to put

science.*

ages, nations, churches,

different

of view,

expressions

they

Hegel

moral

Specimen Ba^e unity and sanity of the creative scheme, in history,

and

science,

and time, present and

life

all

future, is

both the truest cosmical devotee or religioso, and

While he who, by the

the profoundest philosopher. spell of himself

and

his circumstance, sees darkness

and despair

the

sum

in

who,

providence, and

most I

radical sinner

am

in that,

how much

no matter

is,

of the workings of God's

and

denies or prevaricates,

piety plays on his

lips,

the

infidel.

the more assured in recounting Hegel a

little

freely here,* not only for offsetting the Carlylean letter

and

spirit

— cutting

it

out

all

very roots, and below the roots

and several from the

—but to counterpoise,

and deserv'd apotheosis of DarUnspeakably win, the tenets of the evolutionists. precious as those are to biology, and henceforth indispensable to a right aim and estimate in study, they neither comprise or explain everything— and the last since the late death

word

or whisper

remains to be breathed, after

still

the utmost of those claims, floating high and forever

above them

and above technical metaphysics. While the contributions which German Kant and all,

Fichte and Schelling and Hegel have bequeath'd to *

I

have deliberately repeated

it

all,

not only in

offset to Carlyle's ever-lurking

pessimism and world-decadence, but as representing the most thoroughly American points of view

and crowning

and space.

1

know.

In

my opinion the above formulas of Hegel are an essential New World democracy in the creative realms of time

justification of

There

is

that about

them which only the

vastness, the multiplicity

and

the vitality of America would seem able to comprehend, to give scope and illustration to, or to be in

Germany,

fit for,

or in the

or even originate.

Old World

at

all.

It

is

strange to

While a

legitimate European product to be expected.

[322]

Carlyle,

me I

that they were

should say,

is

bom

quite the

Specimen 3)a?0 humanity— and which field

English Darwin has also in his

—are indispensable to the erudition of America's

of them, and the best compared with the lightning flashes of them, when and flights of the old prophets and exaltes, the spiritual poets and poetry of all lands (as in the Hebrew Bible), there seems to be, nay certainly is, something lacking something cold, a failure to satisfy the deepa want of living glow, est emotions of the soul fondness, warmth, which the old exaltes and poets future,

should say that

I

in all

—

—

supply, and which the keenest

so

far

do

modern philosophers

not.

Upon the whole, and for our name certainly belongs on the specified, first-class

purposes, this man's list

moral physicians of our current

era—and with Emerson and two though

his prescription

structive, while tonic.

with the just-

theirs

is is

Feudal at the core,

or three

others—

and perhaps deassimilating, normal and and mental offspring and drastic,

radiation of feudalism as are his books, they afford

ever-valuable lessons and affmities to democratic

America.

Nations or individuals,

we

surely learn

deepest from unlikeness, from a sincere opponent,

thrown even scornfully on dangerous spots and liabilities. (Michel Angelo invoked heaven's special protection against his friends and affectionate

from the

light

flatterers; palpable foes

In

many

he could manage

particulars Carlyle

was

for himself.)

indeed, as Froude

terms him, one of those far-off Hebraic utterers, a [323]

Specimen Ša^a

new Micah or Habbakuk. forth with

abysmic

His words at times bubble

inspiration.

now

such men; as precious

as

Always

any time.

rasping, taunting, contradictory tones

are

more wanted amid the

worshipping,

precious,

His rude,

— what

supple, polish'd,

Jesus-and-Judas-equalizing,

sovereignty echoes of current America?

ones

moneysuffrage-

He has

up

lit

our nineteenth century with the light of a powerful, penetrating,

and

class, turn'd

on

perfectly honest intellect of the first British

and European

politics,

so-

—

and representative personages thoroughly dissatisfied with all, and mercilessly cial life, literature,

exposing the

illness of

all.

But while he announces

the malady, and scolds and raves about self,

born and bred

mark'd

illustration of

it,

he him-

in

the same atmosphere,

it.

/

C324)

is

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