Pull Up a Chair!

     If you’ve ever been camping, you know that it’s helpful to bring along a camp chair.  Surgeons in the Civil War discovered the same thing!

In this Library of Congress photo taken in 1863, and titled, “Bealeton, Va. Noncommissioned officers' mess of Co. D, 93d New York Infantry”  you can see that the men are seated on folding camp chairs.

This Civil War folding camp chair belonged to Assistant Surgeon Sheffield Greene of the 15^th New York Cavalry.  It is a small chair, standing just over 31” high when unfolded.  It folds flat when not in use, and the back wood support behind the seat also functions as a carrying handle. 

     Let’s find out a little more about the owner of this chair.  Sheffield Wells Greene was born in Hopkinton, Rhode Island, in 1814.  He attended Geneva Medical College in 1845 which made him a bit older than most medical students.  He began practicing medicine after his graduation in 1846.  On December 26, 1863, he enlisted with Company D, 15^th New York Cavalry Regiment.  I was not able to find an image of him, but the vital statistics on his enlistment papers list him as being a 44 year old physician, 5’ 10” tall, with gray eyes, black hair, and a dark complexion.  There is a discrepancy here regarding his age, as according to the birth date listed in his family records he would have actually been 49 years old when he enlisted.  It’s possible he was afraid of being rejected and so lied about his age.  It’s also possible the age listed on his enlistment papers is a clerical error.  In either case, it is interesting to note that he was older than the average Civil War recruit.   

     Though there is no record of Assistant Surgeon Greene being wounded in battle, he was sent to the Geisboro hospital in Washington D.C. in April 1864.  A month later he returned to camp, but it was recorded that he was still unable to perform his regular duties.  There is one notation in the Company Muster Roll which indicates he was “Absent on detached service” and assigned as a nurse at the Camp Stoneman Hospital starting in July 1864.  It was a common practice at the time to assign some of the nearly-recovered patients to nursing duties.  

  

     An excerpt from a later letter to the Pension Office uncovers the reason for his hospitalization:  “…during the forepart of the months of April 1864 while on return march from Burlington Gap, West Virginia [we] dismounted.  And in consequence of exposure at Springfield, West Virginia, and being under orders to continue the march of the mountains on the way to Pleasant Valley state of Maryland was turned over by Order for Rupture to the camp Hospital at that place and remained there about one week, and from there to Washington D.C.   My comrade Rev. David Rittenhouse who had entire charge of me and had the said order of the evidence of this disability that the Diarrhea followed in train, from which I never recovered, and that I was treated for Rupture in the Hospital by the proper treatment of Suspencery Bandages and for the Diarrhea secundum artem and that I was in the fourth ward Hospital at Camp Stoneman D.C. and also at Judiciary Square Hospital D.C. December 1864 and remained there until in January 1865 and that said Rupture was brought upon me as alleged in my original applications by carrying heavy Cavalry Baggage on the return march from West Virginia.”

     In other words, he developed a hernia, and chronic diarrhea  - a prevalent complaint for Civil War soldiers!  A hospital record from his stay at Judiciary Square General Hospital in December 1864 lists his age as 50 (which supports his enlistment age of 49).  He was diagnosed there with hydrocele and was granted a furlough on December 16, 1864.  After reporting back for duty in January 1865, he was commissioned into Field & Staff New York 147^th Infantry.  Despite his medical issues, it appears that he continued to serve for as long as he was able.  He was mustered out on June 7, 1865, and he returned home to New York to practice medicine.  

There are no manufacturer’s marks on the chair, but it does have the initials ‘S.W.G’ stenciled in black paint onto the back of the chair.  Perhaps they were put there by the doctor himself? 

     In 1882, Dr. Greene applied for a pension, but a series of letters between him and the pension office indicate that there was some question as to whether his disability was sustained during his service or was a preexisting condition.  Ultimately it was argued that his recruitment papers stated he had been examined by a physician and found to be in good health when he enlisted.  It took four years, but his request was finally approved.  He died in 1899 at the age of 85, and is buried in the Richburg Cemetery in Wirt, NY.

     A bit more about Dr. Greene is found in the book, Allegany County and Its People: a centennial memorial history of Allegany County, New York, by John Stearns Minard and Georgia Drew Merrill.  The conclusion of the summary of his life tells more about his character, “The doctor for 40 years has given arduous and unspared labors for the relief of human suffering, and can look back along an honest and diligent life with a consciousness of doing well all duties falling to his lot.”

Photos courtesy of the National Museum of Civil War Medicine, except where otherwise noted.

Letters from a Surgeon

     This week I’ve been working on transcribing some letters written by a Civil War surgeon to his wife.  Though it is tedious at times trying to decipher the faded, cramped writing, it is also fascinating to read a first-hand account of the life of a Civil War surgeon.  So, I thought I’d share some of his writings.

 

This is an ambrotype of the author of the letters, Assistant Surgeon Isaac F. Kay, Company K, 110^th Pa. Infantry, in his uniform. 

 
 

     Isaac Franklin Kay was born March 21, 1828 in Bedford County, Pennsylvania.  He attended Jefferson Medical College in Philadelphia starting in 1852.  He enlisted in September, 1861 at the age of 33, and left his wife, Catharine, and three young children at home.

This card was an admission ticket into one of his medical classes.  His signature is at the bottom, and the professor, Dr. Thomas Mutter, also signed the card.  If you’ve ever visited the Mutter Museum in Philadelphia, this name may be familiar!   

 

     It was difficult for Surgeon Kay to be separated from his wife and family.  In a letter dated March 4, 1862 from a camp near Winchester, Virginia he writes, “….[I’ve heard] Genl. Jackson and half his army are captured this evening about 20 miles from here, [but] it needs confirmation.  If it is correct I don't know when we will have to fight.  So darling you need not feel uneasy about me for I don't believe the war will last long, indeed I wish it was over, for darling I never can be happy without you and the dear little children.  Oh, darling I miss you & enjoy [the] likenesses so much.  I sent them home thinking I would [illegible word] them and was afraid they would be broken in the carpet bag, but you are too dear to me to ever be forgotten.”

 

This small daguerreotype was donated to the museum along with other items which belonged to Dr. Kay.  Though it was not identified, it is likely this image is of Mrs. Kay.  It is possible this is one of the “likenesses” he refers to in his letter.

     Though Southerners are generally known for their hospitality, Surgeon Kay complained to his wife of his treatment by the locals, “Women insult us in passing by.  They call us "Blue Bellied Yankees."  Considering his location at the time, I suspect he’s lucky that’s all they called him!

     Surgeon Kay also wrote of the physical hardships he endured.  In a letter from Martinsburg, Virginia, dated March 11, 1862 he writes, “We marched here today.  The Regt. will encamp about 4 miles from town.  We walked on the R Road 12 miles today and my feet are so sore & my stockings worn out that my feet are blistered so badly that I can hardly stand that daily….  I could not get one pair of stockings in this place.  Cotton you know.  I wear nothing else….  Darling I must close & join the Regt. which is 3 or 4 miles ahead.  My feet are so sore I can scarcely travel.  I am going on as soon as I finish this to get with them.”

     On March 21, 1862, he writes, “We stopped overnight, layed down on the cold ground.  I did not sleep any was so cold and had nothing to cover myself with, but am used to that.”

     And in an undated letter, he writes, “We returned to Strasburg and were put in a low bottom field to pass the night, it [was] raining & mud 6 inches deep.  We nearly all got sick.  My throat is very sore….     It was one of the hardest nights I put in in my life.  I have no [illegible word] and nothing to cover me.  Stood by the fire all night nearly frozen.  I commenced to write to you sitting by the fire on a rail but it was too cold & too hard for me.  I could not finish it.  In the morning we were ordered to return to this camp on this place through the rain and mud 6 inches deep.  I don't believe there was ever an Army in the United States had to endure the hardships we have been obliged to endure.”   

     Surgeon Kay seemed to spare his wife the worst of what he saw during the war.  He mentions in one letter that he will have to wait until he is home to tell her of some of the things he has seen.  He does briefly describe one bloody scene for her though, “There was a little fight where we were encamped.  Ten Rebels killed and Col. Ashby's horse leg shot off by a Canon ball, it is lying in sight of me while I am writing.  I saw the blood along the stone fence [where] the Rebels were killed, it occurred the day before we came here.”

     The war and the separation from his family soon begin to take their toll on Surgeon Kay.  On April 3, 1862 he writes from Winchester, Virginia, “Oh! My dear my darling wife, This is the 7th letter I have written to you since the Battle & Oh! this day I have been almost frantic not having had an answer to any one of them.  Must I die darling because I cannot hear from you?  You have been so punctual before….  how can it be that I cannot hear from you, when almost every member of the Regt. has had letters.  I cannot sleep my dear my darling wife!  Oh!  No, if I do not hear from you soon I do not know what I shall do for I will die for want of not but a letter from you….  Oh! my dear wife I pray to God [daily] that you and the dear little children may keep well.  We are in the midst of an awful war we are not safe to leave Camp.  This country is full of Rebels.”  The depth of his homesickness, and possibly depression, are revealed when he proceeds to tell her, “Oh! my dear my darling wife to relieve an absent and affectionate husband's brains, write immediately to me.  Oh!  I only think (in this dark time of trial) of my dear family & my God….  I am disconsolate and only because I am separated from you.  Oh!  When I think of home, you, & our dear children I cry like a child and every one notices it.  I sometimes feel ashamed.”

     Despite all of this, Surgeon Kay was clearly pleased to be doing his part in the war.  He often commented on the good and brave soldiers who were in his Regiment and Brigade, and also remarked on what a splendid country he served.  He writes from Winchester, “We had no rations…. [in] our Regiment, [though] all the rest of the Brigade had.  We had nothing.  Genl. Tyler called our Regt. out and said, officers and soldiers to day there will be a big Battle at Winchester and if you will agree to march with the balance of the Brigade at Winchester and if you without anything to eat, you can do so, and if you would prefer waiting until you get rations, you can do so.  Every man said, we will go without anything to eat and fight as hard as those who have something to eat.  We cheered the Genl. vigorously several times & away he went for the field of Battle, but he was proud.”  It seems that Surgeon Kay was also rightfully proud.

     Dr. Kay was able to return home after the war.  After reading his letters it is not difficult to imagine that he was very happy to be back with his family!      

Photos courtesy of the National Museum of Civil War Medicine.

The Man Who Stopped the Civil War

     Last week I installed a new exhibit out at the Pry House Field Hospital Museum, which deals with Civil War Surgeon Elias Joseph Marsh. 

 

An image of Surgeon Marsh in his uniform, taken about 1865.  This photo is marked on the back, "Sarony & Co., New York."

 

     Dr. Marsh was born in Paterson, New Jersey in 1835.  His father, who was also named Elias Marsh and who was also a physician, died when Elias was just 13 years old.  Elias Marsh followed his father into medicine, and graduated from the College of Physicians and Surgeons in New York City in 1858.  He then moved to St. Louis, Missouri to set up his own medical practice. 

     At the start of the Civil War, Dr. Marsh immediately offered his services to the Union.  He was first appointed as a "surgeon's mate" in the Third New Jersey Volunteers.  A few months later he was appointed as an Assistant Surgeon in a Cavalry unit.  He participated in the Peninsula Campaign, and was taken prisoner at the Battle of Gaines’s Mill in 1862.  His status as a physician allowed for him to be exchanged fairly quickly though.  Afterwards, he served as the director of Armory Square Hospital in Washington DC.  By the end of the war, he was on General Philip Sheridan's staff.  During the war, Dr. Marsh earned the reputation as a fearless and courageous soldier.  Nothing could induce him to slight a duty he considered his, and he was never happier than when he was trying to alleviate the suffering of others.

 

The Marsh exhibit includes information about Surgeon Marsh, and several artifacts which belonged to him.

 

 



This display case contains his carte-de-visite, rank insignia, and a medal which was presented to him by the Veteran’s Society after the war.  It also contains a copy of his Certificate of Commission, dated August 10, 1861, which is signed by President Abraham Lincoln.  There is too much light in the room to display the original document.  The original may soon be on display in the main museum though.



 

 

Surgeon Marsh’s rank insignia – small oak leaves embroidered in metallic thread on dark blue wool patches.  In November 1864, the United States War Department allowed any officer who desired a more discreet appearance in the field to “dispense with shoulder straps” and wear the mark of their rank directly on their uniform.  Most likely Surgeon Marsh wore these as a result of this edict.

 

 

This much larger and fancier gold dress epaulet also belonged to Dr. Marsh, but it would have been part of his dress uniform.  The embroidered “MS” stands for Medical Service.  The back is covered in red velvet and is marked, “Schuyler, Hartley& Graham, Military Goods, New York.”

 

Also on display is a pocket surgical kit which belonged to Dr. Marsh.  This kit was manufactured by F.G. Otto & Sons of New York.  You can see that it is quite worn!  Normally I try to display these kits open so that the instruments are visible, but this case is too fragile for that.

 

Instead, I put the instruments out on display separately.  This folding scalpel actually has two blades, though only one is visible in this view.  The handle is made of tortoiseshell, and the small buttons on the handle are used to lock the blades into place.   

 

     Surgeon Marsh is sometimes referred to as "The Man Who Stopped the Civil War."  It seems a strange designation for a surgeon, but it was a case of being in the right place at the right time!  While Generals Grant and Lee considered the terms of surrender at Appomattox Court House, parts of the Federal and Confederate armies were still firing at each other.  General Grant turned to Assistant-Adjutant-General Thomas Weir, and asked him to see that the firing was stopped.  However, General Weir knew his horse was worn out and not fit for the task.  He asked Dr. Marsh to transmit the orders to the regimental commanders.  So, the cease-fire orders he conveyed brought an end to the shooting.

 

There were visitors waiting at the door while the exhibit was being installed.  This was the scene just moments after I left the room!

 

     It’s good to see Dr. Marsh’s service being appreciated!

Photos courtesy of the National Museum of Civil War Medicine.

Please Touch the Exhibits!

     Most times, museum visitors expect to be reminded NOT to touch the items in the exhibits.  In fact, many exhibits are designed so that the items on display are protected from being handled.  Artifacts are generally displayed inside cases, or placed behind barriers.  However, there are some exhibits and displays which are meant to be hands-on for the visitors.  Of course, these displays don’t contain artifacts, but they are still effective in educating the museum’s visitors, especially the younger ones!  Let’s take a look at some of these displays in my museum.

 

The Discovery Stations at the NMCWM were designed with school children in mind, but we notice that adults like them too! This one provides an opportunity to identify some human bones. Don’t worry, these bones are reproductions! They are attached to the display with weighted ropes so that they remain in their proper positions, but so that visitors can pick them up to get a closer look.

 

 

 

The answer and some additional information can be discovered by opening the door below each bone.

 

 

Another type of hands-on display follows a Civil War soldier through the letters he wrote home. This is just the first of several displays located in the museum which follow the war experiences of Peleg Bradford as he served, and was wounded, in the war. Visitors can flip through reproductions of the letters he wrote home and read about what happened to him.

 

 



In our Camp Life gallery, visitors can read cards which describe some of the drugs used during the Civil War. A similar display nearby has cards about some of the diseases commonly seen in the camps.

 

 

This display panel introduces visitors to several Civil War surgeons. More information about each surgeon can be seen behind the doors.

 

Behind this door it reads, “Surgeon William Proby Young, Jr., of Middletown, Maryland, first enlisted as a private in the 116th Virginia. After his one year enlistment ended, he appeared before the C.S. A. Army Medical Examining Board and received a commission as an assistant surgeon. Dr. Young was wounded during the Antietam Campaign of 1862, but returned to Virginia with his regiment. On June 9, 1863, he was promoted to Surgeon and transferred to hospital service.” Photo from A Band of Brothers, by Dan Hartzler.

 

 

Another Discovery Station involves information about the horses and mules used in the Civil War. Each bucket here has a question about the feeding of horses and mules on the lid, with the answer printed beneath the lid.

 

 

Do you think you know how much water a horse or mule would drink in a day?

 

 

Were you right?

 

 

It seems fitting to have a Discovery Station about children! There were more children who served in the Civil War than you might imagine.

 

 

Here is Private Robert Fryer of the 52nd New York, who was one of many underage boys who claimed to be 18 in order to enlist. Boys between the ages of 14 to 17 could sign on as musicians. Some unofficial drummer boys were as young as 9 years old. Many young soldiers, such as Private Fryer, were wounded or killed while serving with their regiments. You can see in this photo that he lost part of his hand. Photo courtesy of the National Museum of Health and Medicine.

 

 

This panel allows visitors to learn the stories of some of the wounded soldiers.

 
 

Private Lewis Martin, Co. E, 29th United States Colored Troops, had his right arm and left foot amputated as a result of wounds sustained during the Battle of Petersburg, Virginia on July 30, 1864. This photo came from the National Archives.

 

 

We certainly couldn’t leave out the Civil War nurses!

 

 

Inspired by a plea for “ladies to go to the front to nurse the sick and wounded, “ Kate Cumming left her Mobile, AL, home to serve the Confederate soldiers. Her nursing career began in the hospitals of Corinth, MS, caring for the wounded from the two-day battle of Shiloh. Officially enrolled as a hospital matron, she served with distinction with the Medical Department of the Army of Tennessee throughout Mississippi, Tennessee, and Georgia. Cumming was one of the nurses involved with Dr. Samuel Stout’s mobile hospital system during the Georgia campaign. After the war she published her journal describing her experiences with hospital life in the Confederacy. This photo is from her book, Gleanings from Southland.

 

 

Visitors can also read some of the wartime letters of another nurse, Clarissa Jones, in this display. Letters such as these give a deeper look into the feelings and experiences of the writer than an informational panel can.

 

     So, as you can see there are some times when it is acceptable to touch the exhibits!

 

Photos courtesy of the National Museum of Civil War Medicine, except where otherwise noted.