 | MRS. A. H. HOGE. Women of the war : |  |
MRS. A. H. HOGE.
AS among the men who enlisted in the war there was
every grade of natural ability, so with the women,
who in their way enlisted also as hospital nurses and sanitary
laborers, every rank in life, and all stations in society,
sent their representatives into the field.
There were many rude and uncultivated, yet kindhearted
and pure-minded camp followers, like Bridget
Divers, who took naturally to the rough life of the soldier,
and followed the men in camp and on the march, with
a saddle or an ambulance cushion for a pillow, and no
covering from the dews of heaven but a brown army
blanket.
Others became hospital nurses, and, for month after
month, and year following year, could be found bending
over the same cots, though their occupants constantly
changed, wiping clammy foreheads, soothing feverish
fancies, moistening parched lips, writing messages of love
and hope to distant homes, singing hymns of Christian
cheer, and closing the lids over glazing eyes.
Others, again, there were, — and that number is not large,
— who brought to the altar of their country rare gifts, splendid
social powers, the fascination of a noble or a winning
presence, and all the qualities that combine to make a
loved.
Of the great number of persons who saw Mrs. Hoge, of
Chicago, and heard her pleading the cause of the suffering
volunteer, before so many gatherings of her own sex, who
met her in her long and frequent journeyings, the soldiers
who saw her in hospital wards, or in the trenches before
Vicksburg, and especially those who saw those generous,
unwearied, multiform, and most successful labors at the
great Sanitary Fair of Chicago, there are none who would
not assign her a high position among the queens of American
society. And those of her own sex, who saw her moving
thus brilliantly in that noble career of public usefulness,
would be the first to apply to her that culminating eulogy
of Solomon, "Many daughters have done virtuously, but
thou excellest them all."
The native city of Mrs. Hoge is Philadelphia. Whether
anything is due to the spirit of William Penn, and the mild
flavor of peace on earth and good will to men which has
ever breathed from the religion of the Quakers, need not
here be discussed. Certain it is that many of those of the
gentler sex who, in our great war, have distinguished themselves
by the consecration of the finest social genius to the
most extensive philanthropic labors, came from the City of
Brotherly Love.
After her marriage, Mrs. Hoge, whose family name was
Blackie, removed with her husband to Pittsburg, and not
long after, in 1848, to Chicago, a city which then hardly
numbered twenty-five thousand inhabitants. Living thus
in the most vigorous and enterprising community on the
years, and seeing the vast regions of the north-west, for
which Chicago is the commercial emporium, expanding with
imperial strides under the system of free labor, and beneath
the common flag and the matchless constitution, it was not
strange that she became, in a manner, inspired by the irresistible
flood of enthusiasm which swept over that community,
when it became an assured fact that eleven great states
had inaugurated a civil war, in violation of the constitution,
in derision of the flag, and to make human bondage
perpetual in the nation. Her first act was freely and
promptly to give up her sons to the service. One of these
boys began in the ranks, and commanded a company
when the war closed. The other rose from captain to the
rank of brevet brigadier-general.
While the conviction was general that the war would not
be protracted, Mrs. Hoge remained in Chicago, and occupied
herself in the usual and happy routine of home duties,
and in sewing for the soldiers. But in the winter and
spring of 1862, it became apparent to most thinking persons
that the American States were committed to a long
and deadly struggle, whose duration and whose stages no
mortal could anticipate, and whose issue could be known
no further than that the right must eventually prevail.
At this period of the conflict, Mrs. Hoge assumed, as it
were, a new character, and commenced a life wholly in contrast
with the domestic seclusion in which her days had
hitherto passed. In company with her friend and co-laborer,
Mrs. Livermore, she entered upon a series of
patriotic and philanthropic labors, on a plan commensurate
conducted, and with an earnestness and zeal not unworthy
the priceless interests which it involved.
Their operations were in connection with the Chicago
branch of the United States Sanitary Commission. They
had worked with this organization from its inception in that
city, and now, in January, 1862, these two ladies took upon
themselves the herculean enterprise of keeping the shelves
and the treasury of the Commission filled, notwithstanding
the constant and enormous demands made upon it by over
two hundred thousand soldiers in active service.
Without asserting that the liberality of the people might
not have been developed through other agencies, the brilliant
success of these admirable women appears in the fact,
that with their labors the funds increased from eighteen
thousand dollars to more than two hundred and fifty
thousand dollars, and the boxes of sanitary and hospital
supplies from five thousand to fifty thousand, during the
two years and a half that war raged west of the Alleghanies.
Their plan was to go from city to city, and from town to
town, throughout the north-west, and assemble the ladies of
each community. Mrs. Hoge often read them a narrative
of the experience she had enjoyed among the soldiers, and
aided in the formation of a Soldier's Aid Society. In
many, and, towards the close of the war, in all the places
they visited, some organization of the kind was in existence.
Here their object was to stimulate to fresh industry
and incite to larger generosity.
These travels and organizing labors in the loyal towns
Mrs. Hoge to the front, where she remained many days,
and sometimes weeks, at a time, dispensing, with her own
hands, the supplies that she had collected from the home
communities. So numerous were these trips, and so incessant
were her hospital labors when at the front, that during
the war she stood at the bedside of more than a hundred
thousand sick or wounded patriot soldiers.
To Mrs. Hoge also belongs the honor of originating, and
carrying through to a brilliant success, the first great Sanitary
Fair at Chicago. In the spring of the cardinal year
of the war, the year that saw the Mississippi running free
within Union lines from Lake Itasca to the sea, Mrs. Hoge,
and those associated with her in Chicago, commenced their
operations on a larger plan than anything before attempted
in the country. A few hundreds, or three or four thousands,
of dollars had been the utmost that had been realized by
any previous enterprise for the soldier. It was now proposed
to inaugurate a scheme of charity on a national scale,
aiming at large financial results. By it Mrs. Hoge proposed
to add at least twenty-five thousand dollars to the
treasury of the Sanitary Commission.
Her travels and lectures had made her the most widely
known of any lady in Chicago among all those communities
that look to that city as their emporium. Circulars were
issued, and vice-presidents appointed in a great number of
towns, extending westward across Wisconsin to the city
of Iowa, and northward to St. Paul, and the vigorous
and deeply loyal communities of the Upper Mississippi
Valley.
There were not wanting those who pronounced the plan
chimerical, and predicted its failure; but the result showed
how much more correctly Mrs. Hoge and her associates
had estimated the strength of the general sympathy with
the suffering soldier. The sum originally proposed sinks
almost into insignificance when compared with the splendid
result, and is well nigh lost when contrasted with the millions
that were afterwards poured into the same treasury
from those similar enterprises that took their rise and found
their model in the Chicago Fair.[1]
It had proposed twenty-five thousand dollars. It realized
eighty thousand. From other fairs, held in other cities,
after the plan of this at Chicago, not less than ten million
dollars were contributed towards the sanitary well-being of
the Union armies.
After this noble enterprise had been carried to success so
triumphant, Mrs. Hoge resumed her visits to the hospitals.
She also visited various other cities as an experienced
adviser in all matters connected with sanitary labor. Several
times, in eastern cities, she recounted her experience
among the soldiers, with the happiest effects in the communities
where the influence of her example and of her
eloquence were alike made to bear upon the cause.
In the spring of 1865, just before the war was ended,
she read an address at a meeting of ladies held at Packer
Institute, in Brooklyn, which was greatly admired, and
immediately published by the Sanitary Commission, as one
and experience in hospitals and at the front, nothing could
be more interesting or satisfactory. It is a graphic and
touching compendium of the field labors of Mrs. Hoge,
from the commencement of active hostilities in the West,
till the surrender of Vicksburg. After this time she was
chiefly absorbed in home labors, in connection with the
Chicago and other great sanitary fairs.
"The first great hospital I visited," said Mrs. Hoge to
the Brooklyn ladies, "was Mound City, twelve miles from
Cairo. It contained twelve hundred beds, furnished with
dainty sheets and pillows, and shirts from the Sanitary
Commission, and ornamented with boughs of fresh apple
blossoms, placed there by tender female nurses, to refresh
the languid frames of their mangled inmates. As I took
my slow and solemn walk through this congregation of
suffering humanity, I was arrested by the bright blue eyes,
and pale, but dimpled cheeks, of a boy of nineteen summers.
I perceived he was bandaged like a mummy, and
could not move a limb; yet still he smiled. The nurse
who accompanied me said, `We call this boy our miracle.
Five weeks ago, he was shot down at Donelson; both legs
and arms where shattered. To-day, with great care, he
has been turned for the first time; and never a murmur has
escaped his lips, but grateful words and pleasant looks have
cheered us.' Said I to the smiling boy, — some absent
mother's pride, — `How long did you lie on the field after
being shot?' `From Saturday morning till Sunday evening,'
he replied; `and then I was chopped out, for I had
frozen feet.' `How did it happen that you were left so
bother with us, because they had to take the fort.' `But,'
said I, `did you not feel 'twas cruel to leave you to suffer
so long?' `Of course not! How could they help it?
They had to take the fort; and when they did, we forgot
our sufferings, and all over the battle-field went up cheers
from the wounded, even from the dying. Men that had
but one arm raised that, and voices so weak, that they
sounded like children's, helped to swell the sound.' `Did
you suffer much?' His brow contracted as he said, `I
don't like to think of that; but never mind; the doctor tells
me I won't lose an arm or a leg, and I'm going back to
have another chance at them. There's one thing I can't
forget, though,' said he, as his sunny brow grew dark;
`Jem and I — nodding at the boy in the adjoining cot —
lived on our fathers' neighboring farms in Illinois; we stood
beside each other, and fell together. As he knows, we saw
fearful sights that day. We saw poor, wounded boys
stripped of their clothing. They cut ours off, when every
movement was torture. When some resisted, they were
pinned to the earth with bayonets, and left writhing like
worms, to die by inches. I can't forgive the devils for
that.' `I fear you've got more than you bargained for.'
`Not a bit of it; we went in for better or worse, and if we
got worse, we must not complain.' Thus talked the beardless
boy, nine months only from his mother's wing. As I
spoke, a moan — a rare sound in a hospital — fell on my
ear. I turned, and saw a French boy, quivering with agony,
and crying for help. Alas! he had been wounded, driven
several miles in an ambulance with his feet projecting, had
that the discolored, useless members must be amputated,
and the poor boy was begging for the operation. Beside
him lay a stalwart man, with a fine face, the fresh blood
staining his bandages, his dark, damp hair clustering round
his marble forehead. He extended his hand feebly, and
essayed to speak, as I bent over him, but speech had failed
him. He was just brought in from a gunboat, where he
had been struck by a piece of shell, and was slipping
silently, but surely, into eternity.
"Two days afterwards I visited Jefferson Barracks Hospital.
In passing through the wards, I noticed a woman
seated beside the cot of a youth apparently dying. He
was insensible to all around; she seemed no less so. Her
face was bronzed, and deeply lined with care and suffering.
Her eyes were bent on the ground, her arms folded, her
features rigid as marble. I stood beside her, but she did
not notice me. I laid my hand upon her shoulder, but she
heeded me not. I said, `Is this young man a relative of
yours?' No answer came. `Can't I help you?' With a
sudden impulse, that electrified me, her dry eyes almost
starting from the sockets, and her voice husky with agony,
she said, pointing her attenuated finger at the senseless boy,
`He is the last of seven sons: six have died in the army,
and the doctor says he must die to-night.' The flash of
life passed from her face as suddenly as it came; her arms
folded over her breast; she sank in her chair, and became,
as before, the rigid impersonation of agony.
"As I passed through another hospital ward, I noticed a
man whose dejected figure said plainly, `he had turned his
he had just been told his doom. Human nature rebelled.
He cried out, `I am willing to die, if I could but see my
wife and children once more.' In the silence that followed
this burst of agony, the low voice of a noble woman, who
gave her time and abundant means to the sick and wounded
soldiers, was heard in prayer for him. The divine influence
overcame his struggling heart, and as she concluded, he
said, `Thy will, O God, be done! 'Tis a privilege, even
thus, to die for one's country.' Before the midnight hour
he was at rest. The vacant bed told the story on the next
morning.
"At one time I spent six weeks with the army on the
move, having in charge a large amount of hospital stores,
and having the privilege of personally dispensing them to
those who so greatly needed them. As the steamer on
which we had our headquarters was tied up for the night, I
was sent for by the colonel of a Wisconsin regiment, in
great haste, to see a young man who was very ill on board
the steamer Express. As we entered the boat we were met
by the colonel, who said, `Ladies, I am in great distress; I
have in my regiment a young man who had graduated,
studied law, and was about to enter into partnership with
his father, when my regiment was forming. He was an
only child, and a young man of rare promise. He enlisted
in my regiment. The day we left Wisconsin his father and
mother were with us. The mother, forgetting all but her
only child, threw her arms around me, and said, `O, colonel,
for God's sake, guard my treasure, for it is my all; and
now I'm afraid he's going to die.' We threaded our way
with no pillow but a hard knapsack, no bed but the bare
floor, and no clothing but that in which they had marched
and picketed for many weary weeks. The young man
referred to had been placed in a state-room. As we
entered, he drew the soiled blanket over his once neat
collar and neck-tie, that had not been removed, and said,
`Ladies, don't come in; I'm too filthy to be seen.' As he
lay there, I thought I had seldom seen a finer face; a broad
forehead, clearly-cut features, and dark, expressive eyes,
betokened intellect and refinement. We talked with him
cheerfully, told him the colonel had granted him a furlough,
to be removed to our boat, to be carefully nursed
till we could place him in his mother's care. He looked so
bright, and spoke so cheerfully, that we cherished hopes of
his early recovery. We promised to send a stretcher for
him early in the morning, and after making all arrangements
for his comfort, and giving him a cup of tea, we left
him. After leaving the room, I thought, What if he should
die? Who will receive his last words, or know his last
thoughts? I turned back, and said, `We shall send for you
in the morning, if we live; but life is so uncertain, especially
in the army on the move! Suppose we never meet on
earth again, — what would you say?' Looking serenely up,
he said, `I understand you. Should I die, tell my mother,
as I have lain here these weary days, all her early teachings
have come back, and I trust have done their work. My
Sabbath school lessons, that she struggled to teach me, are
now remembered and prized. Tell her I hope to meet her
in that heaven where she is sure to go; and tell her I never
me as without hope, for if I die 'twill be in a glorious cause,
and our separation will be short.' I said, `Thank God! I
hope you may be spared long to comfort your parents and
serve your country and your Maker.' He thanked me
earnestly for returning, and, as I was told, talked cheerfully
for an hour about going home. The next morning we
sent a stretcher, but the answer came back, that William
had gone home, not to his mother, but to his Father's arms.
Three weeks later, on my route to Vicksburg, I met a friend
of the family in search of William's body. He said the
parents were longing for the precious casket of their jewel
to lay it to rest, under the old willow tree at the homestead.
They had well nigh sunk under the crushing blow, but were
upheld by his parting words of love, and faith, and heroism,
which I had transmitted to them.
"After the first repulse of our army from Vicksburg, sad
stories of sickness and suffering reached the ears of the
Sanitary Commission. I was intrusted by the Commission
with a choice supply of stores, and, accompanied by two
gentlemen, started for Vicksburg. The river was high, the
weather miserably rainy and depressing; guerrillas constantly
threatening our boat — everything portentous and
gloomy. After a painful but rapid journey, we reached
Young's Point, when I was immediately transferred, with
my stores, to the Silver Wave, the Sanitary boat of the
United States Sanitary Commission. For ten days I stood
in the little storehouse of the Commission, dealing out life,
and health, and happiness to our emaciated soldiers. As I
stood at the rude counter, I had beside me a barrel of soft
a box of pepper, and a box of home-made gingerbread.
Green tea, lemons, codfish, and white sugar completed the
assortment. The news spread quickly that a lady was on
the Sanitary boat with comforts for the sick. Requisitions
poured in rapidly, for, alas! the need was great. The
number of the hospital, the exact number of sick men, the
character of supplies needed, were carefully designated,
signed by the surgeon, as well as a solemn pledge given
that not one jot or tittle should be used but for the sick
soldiers. I believe, with rare exceptions, it was kept.
Careful subsequent examinations of all the hospitals supplied
proved it. As I stood at my post, convalescent
soldiers, that we should call skeletons at home, by dint of
canes and crutches, and friendly hands, came in solemn
procession to receive for themselves these treasures. I
rejoice to be able to say I did not turn one away emptyhanded;
and also to remark, to the honor of the brave
soldiers, that not one applied whose appearance was not a
complete certificate of his necessity. I said to one of these
emaciated men, `Will you have a few soft crackers?' The
only answer was an outstretched hand and a tearful eye.
`Shall I give you an onion?' `O, how I've longed for that,
and wished I had ten cents to buy one from the sutler!'
To another I said, `Perhaps you would like a lemon.' `A
lemon! just let me look at and smell one; I believe 'twould
cure me.' `How about some home-made gingerbread?'
That always brought the gushing tears, and was, without
fail, just like wife or mother's. One poor fellow, who was
obliged to seize both railings to support himself up the
forth a small paper of coffee. Said he, `I know you don't
sell anything here; but I thought, if I could change this
coffee I've saved from my rations for a little green tea, I'd
get an appetite. If I could only get a cup of tea like
mother made, I believe I should get well.' I motioned
back the parcel, for I could not speak, and gave him a little
package containing white sugar, and a lemon, some green
tea, two herrings, two onions, and some pepper. He looked
at the parcel a moment, and said, `Is that all for me?' I
bowed assent. He covered his pinched face with his thin
hands, and burst into a low, sobbing cry. I laid my hand
upon his shoulder, and said, `Why do you weep?' `God
bless the women!' he sobbed out; `what should we do but
for them? I came from father's farm, where all knew plenty;
I've lain sick these three months; I've seen no woman's
face, nor heard her voice, nor felt her warm hand till
to-day, and it unmans me; but don't think I rue my bargain,
for I don't. I've suffered much and long, but don't
let them know at home. May be I'll never have a chance
to tell them how much; but I'd go through it all for the old
flag.' `Who knows,' I said, `but the very luxuries I've
given you have been sent from the Aid Society to which
your mother belongs?' `I shouldn't wonder,' he replied,
`for my mother writes me she never lets anything keep her
away from the meetings. I'm glad of it, for I don't know
what would become of us poor fellows but for the Sanitary
Commission.' He wiped away his tears with the back of
his hand, gave me his `Good by! God bless you!' and said,
`I feel that I've turned the corner; I haven't felt as strong
descended the stairs, and called out from the landing,
`Farewell! God bless you!'
"In one of my frequent trips to the army, I was detained
for some time at Columbus, Kentucky, on the Mississippi
River, and improved the time in moving about among the
waiting regiments, and talking with the different soldiers.
I passed from group to group, and said a cheering word,
and told how we loved, and honored, and labored for
them at home. It required but a moment to gather large
audiences; and O, what listeners! The words home, wife,
mother, always brought cheers and tears, worshipful reverence,
and grateful thanks. I believe there does not exist,
nor ever has existed on this earth, a more noble, brave,
honorable, tender, patient, and enduring race of men than
our Union soldiers. As I turned from the last group to
walk up the fortifications, I heard a quick step, and, turning,
saw a fine young man, in the uniform of an orderly sergeant.
He touched his cap, and said, `Madam, excuse me; but if
you will not consider it impertinent, I would ask the favor
of accompanying you. I've always been accustomed to
female society, and during the nine months I have been in
the army, you are the first lady I have spoken to.' Said I,
`I consider it a great honor to be escorted by a soldier, and
as you are about the age of one of my sons, I should be
glad to have your strong arm to lean upon, as I ascend the
hill; and you can tell me something of your history.' `I
am the last of my mother's eight children,' he said,
solemnly, `and she is a widow. I had a fine position, was
postmaster in a flourishing town in Iowa, and could not ask
At the first call I felt that I must go, and said so to my
mother. She faltered, saying, `John, not yet; so many
mothers have more than one child, and some that have but
one are not widows! I felt 'twas true, especially as father
had left her to my care. The second call came. As it
happened, 'twas harder than ever to go, for I had another's
consent to ask beside my mother's then. Next door to us
lived an orphan girl, whom I had known and loved from
childhood — I never knew how much, till it appeared possible
I might have to leave her. Before I knew it, I had
told her all, and found she loved me also. We were engaged
to be married; nevertheless, I felt I must go now,
and at once told mother. She turned pale, but said, `John,
I'll be as good as my word; go, and God bless you! but
what of Mary?' I'll see her at once, I said; and in five
minutes I was beside her in the porch, where she stood
every evening, waiting for me, on the very spot where we
first pledged our troth. In the dim twilight her quick
woman's eye read something. She said, quickly, `What's
the matter, John? Are you ill?' `Not ill, but sad, Mary.
The president has called for three hundred thousand more,
and I must be going. Mother says yes; what says my
darling?' The color had faded from her cheek, but her eye
brightened as she said, `God forbid I should stand in your
way; as your mother said, I say, Go, and God bless you!
I've been fearing and hoping for this. I love you better
than ever, and should have felt ashamed had you held
back. But, John, one thing must be done; I never expected
to say this; but we must be married: if you are sick
live with your mother;' and as she laid her head upon my
shoulder, she whispered, `and, John, I would rather be your
widow than another man's bride.' Next day we were married,
I enlisted, and before nightfall was on my way to my
regiment. Strange as it may seem, I have never regretted
the step. Mother and Mary live together, and write such
cheerful letters twice a week that I could not be despondent
if I would. They say, `Keep up your courage, John. God
takes care of us, and will of you. We expect you home at
the end of the war, loaded with honors; and O, what a welcome
we'll give you!' I brought my wedding coat with
me, and looked at it, with smiles and tears, night and
morning, as it hung up in my tent. Some villain stole it
last night, and the gold of California could not have bought
it. No matter; I have their daguerrotypes. I wish it were
not too dark for you to see them.' Just at this point we
had reached the brow of the hill, crowned with its frowning
battlements. The golden purple had faded from the
clouds; the dimly-defined battle-field of Belmont lay across
the stream; the heavy moan of the Father of Waters mingled
with the distant hum of moving squadrons, as they
filed into the boats; the heavy tread of the sentinels, and
the booming of the evening gun, completed the warlike
character of this strange but fascinating scene. We stood
in silence; our hearts were too full for utterance. My
young friend passed his hand across his eyes hastily, as he
said, `Don't think I would have things otherwise; I counted
the cost, and am willing to pay the price, be it what it may.'
I said, `A moment since I pitied you, but now I envy you;
mother; know what self-sacrificing patriotism means, and
trust in God implicitly.' `You are right,' he said, `I will
write your words to mother and Mary, for I am proud of
them both.' We walked down the hill rapidly, and were
soon at John's camp. As we parted he said, `I believe
God sent you here, madam; for the first time in nine
months I had a touch of home-sickness just before I met
you; it is all gone now — farewell! God bless and keep
you.' He vaulted lightly over the ditch around the camp,
and was soon lost among the white tents of the encampment.
I know not whether John still lives to honor his
regiment, or whether he lives in a hospital, or sleeps in a
southern grave; one thing I know, living or dying, he is
one of the Lord's own, and will shine among his jewels.
In a few days after this interview I entered the Gayoso
Block Hospital, at Memphis, under the care of Mother
Bickerdyke, of great renown. My visit was unexpected,
and happened at supper time. As I entered the door I met
Mother Bickerdyke in the convalescent dining hall, where
everything on the table was nutritious and appetizing. As
she was on her way to the hospital wards, I accompanied
her. There lay six hundred freshly-wounded men from the
battle of Arkansas Post. Each man was eating such food
as we would have given them at home. The air was perfectly
pure, and the snowy sheets, and shirts, and soft
pillows were refreshing.
"Mrs. Bickerdyke knew every man by name, as by intuition,
and, as she passed, spoke to one and another. When
we reached the centre of the room, she said, `Boys, this is
Commission. Look at your shirts, sheets, and pillows;
they are all marked with the name of the Sanitary Commission;
your good suppers to-night all came from there,
and what you get every day comes from the same place.'
As from one voice arose the cry, `Three cheers for the
Sanitary Commission! God bless the women at home!' As
we passed from cot to cot, Mrs. Bickerdyke would ask,
`William, how does your egg suit you?' `Exactly right,
mother.' `Well, John, how goes the milk toast?' `Bully,
mother — tastes like the old cow's milk at home.' Said a
gray-headed man, with a shattered arm, `Mother, I don't
believe my wife could beat that cup of green tea you made
me, with white sugar in it; it has about cured me; I feel
as chirk as a robin.'
"At one cot knelt a bright, bronzed-faced, motherly
woman, feeding her husband cautiously. His jaw had
been shot away, the splintered fragments removed, and he
lay a woful spectacle, not able to speak intelligibly. `How
do you feel to-night, James?' said Mother Bickerdyke.
`All right, now, since she's come,' said he, laying his hand
fondly on her head. The constant woman's face beamed
with joy as she said, `I believe I can take him home next
week.'
"As I was about to leave, I stood in their midst, and
said, `Boys, you look so bright and happy, and seem so
cheerful, I think you must be shamming: you are all
heroes; but are you badly wounded?' `Why shouldn't we
be happy?' cried out a brave, manly voice; `we left all to
fight for the old flag, and put it where it belongs, and we
cried out, cheerfully, `Madam, what do you call this?'
and drew aside the sheet, to show the stump of a leg.
Another pointed to where the strong right arm had been,
and another to his bandaged head, from which a piece of
shell had been extracted. A Wisconsin battery boy, beside
me, called out, `What do you say of me? One of my
arms was taken off nine months ago, and the doctor says
the other must go to-morrow. I've been in nine battles,
and been wounded every time; but `the Post' has used me
up. What am I to do in the world, not twenty years old,
and no arms?' `My grand fellow,' said I, `the women will
take care of you. God never spared your life but for some
great purpose, and I believe you will live to bless and be
blessed.' Tears burst from his eyes, as the boys cheered,
and he said, fervently, `Thank you for that.'
"The long and weary siege of Vicksburg had continued
many months previous to the terrific assaults of our brave
army on the fortifications in the rear of that rebel stronghold.
On the 19th and 22d of May were made those
furious attacks, up the steep acclivities, in the teeth of
bristling fortifications, long lines of rifle-pits, and sharpshooters,
who fringed the hill-tops, and poured their murderous
fire into our advancing ranks. It would seem impossible
that men could stand, much less advance, under
such a galling fire. They were mowed down as wheat
before the sickle; but they faltered not. The vacant places
of the fallen were instantly filled, and inch by inch they
gained the heights of Vicksburg. When the precipice was
too steep for the horses to draw up the artillery, our brave
When they had gained the topmost line of rifle-pits,
they entered in and took possession; and when I
made my last visit to the Army of the Mississippi, there
they were, ensconced as conies in the rock, enduring the
heat of a vertical sun, and crouching like beasts of prey,
to escape the rebel bullets from the earthworks, almost
within touching distance. The fierce and bloody struggle
had filled long lines of field hospitals with mangled victims,
whose sufferings were soothed and relieved beyond what I
could have conceived possible; and it rejoiced my heart to
see there the comforts and luxuries of the Sanitary Commission.
The main body of the army lay encamped in the
valleys, at the foot of the rifle-pits, and spread its lines in a
semicircle, to a distance of fourteen miles. The health of
the army was perfect, and its spirit jubilant. They talked
of the rebels as prisoners; as though they were guarding
them; and answered questions implying doubt of success
with a scornful laugh, saying, `Why, the boys in the rear
could whip Johnston, and we know it; and we could take
Vicksburg if we chose, and not disturb them.' Each regiment,
if not each man, felt competent for the work.
"One glorious day in June, accompanied by an officer of
the eighth Missouri, I set out for the rifle-pits. When I
reached them, I found the heat stifling; and as I bent to
avoid the whizzing minies, and the falling branches of the
trees, cut off by an occasional shell, I felt that war was a
terrible reality. The intense excitement of the scene; the
manly, cheerful bearing of the veterans; the booming of
the cannon from the battlements, and the heavy mortars
Vicksburg, and the picturesque panorama of the army encamped
below, obliterated all sense of personal danger or
fatigue. After a friendly talk with the men in the extreme
front, and a peep again and again through the loopholes,
watched and fired upon continually by the wary foe, I
descended to the second ledge, where the sound of music
reached us. We followed it quickly, and in a few minutes
stood behind a rude litter of boughs, on which lay a gray-haired
soldier, face downward, with a comrade on either
side. They did not perceive us, but sang on the closing
line of the verse, —
A thousand thoughts resolve,
Come with thy sins and fears oppressed,
And make this last resolve.'
Have like a mountain rose;
I know his courts; I'll enter in,
Whatever may oppose.'
but I sang on, with moistened eyes, and they continued.
At the close one burst out, `Why, madam, where did you
come from? Did you drop from heaven into these rifle-pits?
You are the first lady we have seen here;' and
then the voice was choked with tears. I said, `I have come
from your friends at home, and bring messages of love and
honor. I have come to bring you the comforts we owe
what they send you.' `Do they think as much of us as
that? Why, boys, we can fight another year on that — can't
we?' `Yes! yes!' they cried; and almost every hand
was raised to brush away the tears. `Why, boys,' said I,
`the women at home don't think of much besides the soldiers.
If they meet to sew, 'tis for you; if they have a
good time, 'tis to gather money for the Sanitary Commission;
if they pray, 'tis for the soldiers; and even the little
children, as they kneel at their mothers' knees, to lisp their
good-night prayers, say, "God bless the soldiers."' A crowd
of eager listeners had gathered from their hiding-places, as
birds from the rocks. Instead of cheers, as usual, I could
only hear an occasional sob, and feel solemn silence. The
gray-haired veteran drew from his breast pocket a daguerrotype,
and said, `Here are my wife and daughters. I
think any man might be proud of them; and they all work
for the soldiers.' And then each man drew forth the irresistible
daguerrotype, and held it for me to look at, with
pride and affection. There were aged mothers and sober
matrons, bright-eyed maidens and laughing cherubs, all
carried next these brave hearts, and cherished as life itself.
Blessed art! it seemed as though it were part of God's
preparation work for this long and cruel war. These mute
memorials of home and its loved ones have proved the
talisman of many a tempted heart, and the solace of
thousands of suffering, weary veterans. I had much to
do, and prepared to leave. I said, `Brave men, farewell!
When I go home I'll tell them that men who never flinch
before a foe sing hymns of praise in the rifle-pits of
their own suffering, overflow at the name of home, and
the sight of the pictures of their wives and children.
They'll feel, more than ever, that such men cannot be
conquered, and that enough cannot be done for them.'
Three cheers for the women at home, and a grasp of
multitudes of hard, honest hands, and I turned away to
visit other regiments. The officer who was with me grasped
my hand. `Madam,' said he, `promise me you'll visit my
regiment to-morrow — 'twould be worth a victory to them.
You don't know what good a lady's visit to the army does.
These men, whom you have seen to-day, will talk of your
visit for six months to come. Around the fires, in the
rifle-pits, in the dark night, or on the march, they will
repeat your words, describe your looks, voice, size, and
dress; and all agree in one respect, that you look like
an angel, and exactly like each man's wife or mother.'
Such reverence have our soldiers for upright, tenderhearted
women.
"In the valley beneath, just having escaped the front line
of rifle-pits, with the regiment now occupying it, encamped
my son's regiment. Its ranks had been fearfully thinned
by the terrible assaults of the 19th and 21st of May, as
they had formed the right wing of the line of battle on that
fearful day. I knew most of them personally, and as they
gathered round me, and inquired for home and friends,
I could but look in sadness for many familiar faces, to be
seen no more on earth. I said, `Boys, I was present when
your colors were presented to you by the Board of Trade.
I heard your colonel pledge himself that you would bring
as glory. I want to see them, if you have them still, after
your many battles.' With great alacrity, the man in charge
of them ran into an adjoining tent, and brought them forth,
carefully wrapped in an oil-silk covering. He drew it off,
and flung the folds to the breeze. `What does this mean?'
I said. `How soiled, and tattered, and rent, and faded they
look! I should not know them.' The man who held them
said, `Why, ma'am, 'twas the smoke and balls did that.'
`Ah! so it must have been,' I said. `Well, you have
covered them with glory, but how about the blood?' A
silence of a minute followed, and then a low voice said,
`Four were shot down holding them: two are dead, and
two in the hospital.' `Verily, you have redeemed your
pledge,' I said, solemnly. `Now, boys, sing "Rally round
the Flag, Boys!" And they did sing it. As it echoed
through the valley, as we stood within sight of the greensward
that had been reddened with the blood of those who
had fought for and upheld it, methought the angels might
have paused to hear it, for it was a sacred song — the
song of freedom to the captive, of hope to the oppressed
of all nations. Since then, it seems almost profane to sing
it with thoughtlessness or frivolity. After a touching farewell,
I stepped into the ambulance, surrounded by a crowd
of the brave fellows.
"The last sound that reached my ears was cheers for the
Sanitary Commission and the women at home. I soon
reached the regimental hospital, where lay the wounded
color-bearers. As I entered the tent, the surgeon met
me, and said, `I'm so glad you've come! for R. has been
hand, he said, `O, take me home to my wife and little ones,
to die!' There he lay, as noble a specimen of vigorous
manhood as I had ever looked upon. His great, broad
chest heaved with emotion; his dark eyes were brilliant
with fever; his cheeks flushed with almost the hue of
health; his rich brown hair clustering in soft curls over
his massive forehead, — it was difficult to realize that he was
entering the portals of eternity. I walked across the tent
to the doctor, and asked if he could go with me. He
shook his head, and said before midnight he would be at
rest. I shrunk from his eager gaze as I approached him.
`What does he say?' he asked, quickly. `You can't be
moved.' The broad chest rose and fell; his whole frame
quivered. There was a pause of a few moments. He
spoke first, and said, `Will you take my message to her?'
`I will,' I said, `if I go five hundred miles to do it.' `Take
her picture from under my pillow, and my children's also.
Let me see it once more.' As I held them for him, he
looked earnestly, and then said, `Tell her not to fret about
me, for we shall meet in heaven. Tell her 'twas all right
that I came. I don't regret it, and she must not. Tell her
to train these two little boys, that we loved so well, to go
to heaven to us; and tell her to bear my loss like a soldier's
wife and a Christian.' He was exhausted by the effort. I
sat beside him till his consciousness was gone, repeating
God's precious promises. As the sun went to rest that
night, he slept in his Father's bosom."
| MRS. A. H. HOGE. Women of the war : | |