Following the American Civil War Sesquicentennial with day by day writings of the time, currently 1863.

Kate Cumming: A Journal of Hospital Life in the Confederate Army of Tennessee.

February 21.—Mr. Nolan and Mr. Kelly are dead; one died on the 16th and the other on the 17th. They were members of the Eleventh or Sixteenth Louisiana Regiment. Both were unmarried.

We have had heavy rains ever since I returned, which is the cause of a great deal of sickness. The hospital is filled with patients who come in every day; many die, whom neither Mrs. W. nor myself ever see.

Our room is a front one, and a hall some ten feet wide divides quite a large ward from us, which is filled with typhoid and pneumonia cases. I counted seven men in the ward, blistered severely. Though the room is so near ours, we have no time to spend in it. Many a time through the night we hear the men cough and groan, but we can not even allow our minds to dwell on these things, as it would unfit us for our duties. We visit the wards at least twice a day; but many of the patients are brought in at night, and are dead before morning.

A staircase leading to the floor above is near our room. On going up it, I am often met by men carrying a litter, with a white sheet over it. I know its contents without asking. Often the bearers have not the least idea of the inmate’s name.

Had a man die in Dr. Hopping’s ward; his name was Brittle Jones. He was a fine-looking man, and a patient sufferer. He talked a great deal of his wife, and asked me to write to her; said they had only been married a week when he left home. She lives in Jacksonville, Ala.

We have three white girls, who have come from Mobile, as laundresses. I can not but wonder at some persons, these war times. We gave these girls a very nice room. The beds in them were new, but hospital style, like what we have ourselves. They told me if they could not get better they would not stay. I begged them to give it a trial, and I would endeavor to improve matters. It is so difficult to get servants, that we are thankful to do any thing for them. We have men as laundresses, as well as in other capacities; but their help is very uncertain, as not a day passes without an order from General Bragg “to send all the men to the front.”

The girls brought me a present of a very large prayer-book, from Rev. Dr. Massey, in Mobile, which is very acceptable.

Sunday, February 15.—A very gloomy, rainy day; spent it very satisfactorily, going around visiting the patients. Have felt that I would not exchange places with any one. I hope I shall not grumble again at trifles; I scarcely see how I can when our men have to endure so much.

I came across two men who could not read, and spent some time reading to them. One was from Florida, and the other from North Carolina.

I have brought a can of oysters with me from home, a present from Mr. Hodge of Mobile. Captain De Graffenread is very fond of them. As his case is a bad one, we give him the best we have. He told me he had been badly treated since I left. He is very peevish, and would say that any way; but he is a great sufferer.

We have a number of wounded prisoners—one, a very nice young man, by the name of Snyder. He says that nothing in the world would ever make him fight against the South again. He sees how he has wronged us. They all seem to wonder how we can be so kind to them. I asked Mr. S. what he would do when he went back North; he will then be compelled to join the army. He said he was going to Canada as soon as he could get there. One of them is a very large Irishman, by the name of McLean. He is severely wounded in the arm; it is supposed he will lose it.

February 10.—Arrived at Chattanooga at 7 A. M. Left Mobile on the 5th, by steamer to Montgomery. Captain Finnegan was very kind to myself and Miss Groom, who was with me. He did not charge us for our passage. We had transportation tickets for the cars, which only pays for half on the boat.

The Alabama River is formed of the Coosa and Tallapoosa rivers, which unite some ten miles north of Montgomery. It then flows west to Selma, below which point it is very tortuous, flowing south-west until it unites with the. Tombigbee, forty-five miles north of Mobile. The river formed by this confluence is the Mobile, which empties into the Mobile Bay. It is three hundred miles in extent, and is navigable for large boats. Along its banks are immense cotton plantations. In peace times hundreds of thousands of bales of cotton pass down this river yearly, to be transported from thence to all parts of the world.

Had quite a pleasant trip. Duke Goodman, one of our wealthy planters, and his wife were on board. The latter showed us some very pretty homespun dresses. The material was grown, spun, and woven on her own plantation. The colors were very pretty, dyed from the bark of trees and wild roots.

We reached Selma early on the morning of the 7th. It is situated on a high bluff on the west bank of the river, seventy miles below Montgomery. It is in Dallas County, and is the terminus of the Alabama and Tennessee Railroad. The Central Railroad of Alabama extends west from it. We arrived too late to see a fine gunboat launched. There are one or two others being built; they are to be used for the protection of Mobile Bay. Quantities of government work of all kinds are done here. There are some two or three large founderies.

Miss G. and myself paid a visit to Mrs. D., in the city, who gave us a delightful cup of tea, which is rather a delicacy these times.

On the way from Selma to Montgomery we made the acquaintance of a very nice lady, Mrs. Turner, and her brother, Mr. Davis. He is on his way to the army, and the lady to visit her husband, who is surgeon of the Seventh Arkansas Regiment.

We arrived at Montgomery on Sunday, the 8th, an hour too late for the West Point train, and put up at the Exchange Hotel, which is a very fine house. We paid three dollars each for our dinner, and a splendid one it was. Every thing was there, the same as in peace times. The house was filled with refugees, fashionably dressed, and evidently making the best of their condition.

At the table I met some old friends from Mobile. Miss G. and I went to St. John’s Church, and before service had a talk with Rev. Mr. Mitchell. He gave me some prayer-books, which were very acceptable. One of my old friends, Dr. Scott, a refugee from Pensacola, preached an excellent sermon.

We left Montgomery at 4 o’clock p. M.; arrived in Atlanta on the morning of the 9th, too late to make the connection for Chattanooga. We put up at the Trout House, a very fine hotel, but I do not like it as well as the Exchange in Montgomery. The weather was very cold, and there had just been a heavy fall of snow.

I went out shopping with Mrs. Turner. She bought a very neat straw bonnet, for which I think she paid fifty dollars. We paid five dollars each hotel bill. Left in the afternoon for this place. Our friend, Mr. Davis, in attending to our baggage, forgot his overcoat and blanket-shawl at the Trout House, which is a serious loss in this cold weather, and he on his way to camp. When within a few miles of this place the cars ran off the track, and we came up to town on a wood-car.

There is a great drawback in traveling in this country; the railroad is single, and if the returning train happens to be behindhand the other has to wait at the switches for it. We have been detained a good deal on this account; and another annoyance is the scarcity of wood; for miles the locomotive has gone at a snail’s pace.

There were a number of ladies on the train with us, on their way to visit their husbands in the army.

It is remarked that there never were so many women and children traveling as there are now. Numbers of ladies, whose husbands are in the army, have been compelled to give up their homes for economy and protection, and seek others among their relatives. I know of many, with their children, who have been compelled to seek shelter under the parental roof. We have a large floating population—the people who have been driven from their homes by the invader.

Our friends left us to go to Shelbyville. Mrs. T. has a brother-in-law, wounded, in this hospital. He was much disappointed in not seeing her.

When I arrived at the hospital I found Mrs. W. well, and very busy. All were pleased to see me; but my heart sank within me when I looked around and saw the state of things. I had been away long enough to become demoralized. It had been snowing for some days, and the snow was melting, which made every thing damp and comfortless. A hospital is the most cheerless place in the world, and the last place I would remain in from choice. If it were not for the sake of the wounded and sick men, I do not think I could possibly stand it.

I found few of the patients whom I had left here; some have died, and others have gone to other hospitals. Mr. Noland and Mr. Kelly, two of our best nurses, are not expected to live. They were both here when we first came. Mr. Noland is too low to speak. I am much grieved to find him in this state. He was very kind to me when I was sick; and when buttermilk was ordered, searched the whole town to get it for me.

We have a patient—James Scott—who has been here ever since the army went into Kentucky. He accidentally broke his thigh while on the march. He has lain on his back for nearly four long weary months, and has never been known to murmur. I never saw such patient endurance. He is not eighteen years of age. I brought him a little present from home, which he prizes very highly.

We have a new ward near the river. It holds about fifty patients, and is set apart for cases of erysipelas. I visited it to-day, and found it nearly full. Mr. Kelly is there, with all over his face and head; and Captain De Graffenread, who also has it in his arm.

February 3.—Mobile has quite a number of troops in it; General Buckner is in command, and is doing his utmost to have the city placed in a state of defense.

I paid a visit, twelve miles across the bay, to the eastern shore, in Baldwin County, returning in a sail-boat, and came very near being capsized, from the tiles with which the bay is obstructed.

I have been to a fair, given for the benefit of the Protestant orphans; the ladies were all dressed very handsomely; the affair was one of the most splendid of the kind I ever attended, and it did not look much like war times.

Provisions are higher still. I have been not a little amused at the novel lights we have; instead of oil and candles, nature has bountifully supplied us with illuminators in our pitch pine knots. We have a little oil which we keep for special occasions. We put some pieces of pine in the grate, which gives light enough to see each other; all we can do is to converse, as it is impossible to sew or read by this light. We are compelled to retire in the dark, or else run the risk of having our complexion and every thing else ruined by the smoke of the pine torches. These are things which every body laughs at, saying it is war times, and they will soon be over.

Although there is a good deal of speculating, and people growing wealthy, still it seems a much greater boast to be poor than rich. Every one has his story of how hard it is for him to live. This seems to be the fashionable topic of the day. All are hopeful that this state of affairs will not last long, and feel that the cause is worth a struggle.

I have been trying to get some servants to go back with me, and also a few ladies. I have succeeded in getting one of the latter. We expect to leave in a few days. I have been presented with a number of books, from some of the bookstores, to take on with me.

January 20.—Arrived in Mobile last evening, about 10 o’clock P.M.; left Mr. and Mrs. B. in Montgomery; I left the latter place on the cars, in company with a friend of theirs, Mr. Weaver of Chattanooga. We took a very nice breakfast at Evergreen, a station on the road, and had a delightful cup of coffee, for which we paid two dollars and fifty cents each.

Arrived at home quite unexpectedly to the home folks. Mr. B. telegraphed from Montgomery that I was coming, but, as usual with that well-conducted department, the dispatch did not reach here until today.

Home is such a contrast to that I have just left, and when I think of the men in camp I can not keep from feeling sad. I have met some soldiers here, members of Fowler’s battery, from Tuscaloosa, Alabama. One Mr. Crochell played the violin beautifully, and I have no doubt with it serves to beguile many a weary hour in camp.

January 18.—I arrived in Atlanta, in company with Mr. and Mrs. Brewer, at 3 o’clock A. M., too late to make the connection with the West Point train. As my health did not improve in the hospital, I was advised to try a change, and accordingly left Chattanooga yesterday for home.

We are at the Atlanta House, kept by a Mr. Thompson, quite a jolly landlord, and our fare is very good, considering the times.

This is a very cold and bleak day. I went out shopping with Mr. and Mrs. B. They bought a handsome velvet mantle, for which they paid one hundred and fifty dollars. Mr. B. had a very fine shawl stolen from him; it was taken out of the parlor at the hotel; they say this city is a den of thieves. Mr. B. insisted on paying my hotel bill, which was five dollars, for two meals and two hours’ sleep. We expect to leave on the cars by 6 o’clock, P. M.

Atlanta is in DeKalb County, Georgia; is seven miles south-east of the Chattahooche River; one hundred miles west north-west of Macon; one hundred and seventy-one miles west of Augusta; one hundred and thirty miles from Chattanooga; seventy-five miles from West Point. It is the terminus of four railroads: the Augusta, the Macon and Western, the Atlantic and Western, and the West Point. It is elevated, and quite a healthy place. I have been told that the wounded improve more rapidly here than at any other point.

January 16.—I have just returned from another horseback ride with Mrs. N.; we visited the small-pox hospital, but were not allowed to go in; about six of Mrs. N.’s nurses were there as patients. She inquired how they were, and if they needed any thing. They have very nice quarters, and one of our ablest army surgeons—Dr. Kratz—to attend them. The mortality from this loathsome disease is little or nothing.

I am as much pleased as ever with the wild and romantic scenery here; it is so varied. As we rode through the woods we came to many

1x1t1x1t“A forest glade, which, varying still.
Here gave a view of dale and hill;
There, narrower closed, till overhead
A vaulted screen the branches made.” 1x1t

Mrs. N. told me much about the scenery in Virginia, and said if I were to see that I would not be so enthusiastic about the views in Tennessee. I am not so sure about that, although Virginia has one advantage over Tennessee—the Atlantic Ocean—which to me would be a great one. This place is about three hundred and fifty miles inland from the gulf, or the ocean.

As I rode along side of this angelic woman, and listened to her conversation, I discovered a combination of admirable traits in her character, such as I never met in any woman before. She is

1x1t1x1t“A perfect woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command.”

January 14.—We have received a box of oranges from Mobile, and some money from my friend. Mr. M.

Had a very nice ride to-day with Mrs. Newsom. We went on a foraging expedition, in search of milk, and found a woman who would sell us a quantity of buttermilk—a treat for the patients. We went round by the river part of the road. It was the wildest scenery I ever beheld. In one moment we were in a ravine so deep as almost to exclude from view the blue of heaven (a nice haunt for bogles and witches), and at another time I trembled lest my horse might stumble and cast me into the ravine below.

Mrs. N. rode on as fearlessly as any knight of old, or one of our own cavalry. I believe the latter are the best horsemen in the world, the Indians not excepted.

In a letter received from my father and my friend Mr. M., both are much elated that the state of Alabama has been able to pay off the interest of her state debt in gold. The British war steamer Vesuvius came and took it away. My father was indignant at a telegram which Lord Lyons had dispatched from Washington, ordering the captain not to take the money, as it would be a breach of international law. The dispatch did not arrive until the steamer had left. I wonder if they are as particular in regard to their dealings with the Federals? From what we hear on the subject I think not.

January 12.—There are a large number of prisoners in camp near us. I saw some twenty-five hundred marched through the town. They tell the people that they will soon be here as conquerors.

All seem to have much more confidence in General Bragg than they had, and are much pleased at the prospect of affairs in Tennessee; for many thought it impossible for our small army to keep the enemy even at bay.

Captain Thatcher is now in the hospital. I went to see him. He related his story to me. I feel sorry for him, and sincerely trust that he will get justice. He was a member of the Missouri State Guard, and came out with General Price.

Sunday, January 11.—The hospital is filled with badly wounded, from almost every state. Many are getting furloughs to go home.

Instead of going to church I spent the day talking to the men. We have a badly wounded captain, named De Graffenread—a member of the 151st Tennessee Regiment. He is said to be one of the richest men in the state. One of his men is with him, and very much devoted to him. He generally has two negro servants who go to the army with him. At present he has one waiting on him, who is attentive, and an excellent nurse, and he dotes on his master.

We do not have many of the wounded die, comparatively speaking. A few days ago I saw two handsome lads breathe their last . 1 do not know their names. The fact is, Mrs. W. and myself have so many to attend that we find it impossible to devote our time to them separately; and we are far from being well.

Mrs. Gilmer, whom I met in Corinth, is in the hospital. She has been for some time in the service in Mississippi.