Walt Whitman was living in Brooklyn and working as a freelance journalist when he learned in December 1862 that his brother George had been wounded at Fredericksburg. Whitman traveled to northern Virginia, where he learned that his brother’s wound was slight. After visiting army hospitals and camps around Falmouth, he accompanied a group of wounded soldiers to Washington. Whitman would remain in the capital until June 1864, visiting military hospitals while working part-time as a government clerk. One of the soldiers he befriended in the Armory Square Hospital was Lewis Kirk Brown of Elkton, Maryland. Wounded in the leg by a shell at Rappahannock Station, Virginia, on August 19, 1862, Brown lay in the open for four days before being brought to Washington. His wound did not heal, and in January 1864 his left leg would be amputated below the knee. The operation was successful, and Brown lived until 1926.
Washington, August 1, 1863.
Both your letters have been received Lewy—the second one came this morning, & was welcome, as any thing from you will always be, & the sight of your face welcomer than all, my darling—I see you write in good spirits, & appear to have first rate times—Lew you must not go around too much, nor eat & drink too promiscuous, but be careful & moderate, & not let the kindness of friends carry you away, lest you break down again, dear son—I was at the hospital yesterday four or five hours, was in Ward K—Taber has been down sick, so he had to lay abed, but he is better now, & goes around as usual—Curly is the same as usual—most of the others are the same—there have been quite a good many deaths—the young man who lay in bed 2 with a very bad leg is dead—I saw Johnny Mahay in ward E,—poor fellow, he is very poorly, he is very thin, & his face is like wax—Lew I must tell you what a curious thing happened in the Chaplain’s house night before last—there has been a man in Ward I, named Lane, with two fingers amputated, very bad with gangrene, so they removed him to a tent by himself—last Thursday his wife came to see him. She seemed a nice woman but very poor. She stopt at the Chaplain’s—about 3 o’clock in the morning she got up & went to the sink, & there she gave birth to a child, which fell down the sink into the sewer runs beneath, fortunately the water was not turned on—the Chaplain got up, carried Mrs. Lane out, & then roused up a lot of men from the hospital, with spades &c. dug a trench outside, & got into the sink, & took out the poor little child, it lay there on its back, in about two inches of water—well, strange as it may seem, the child was alive, (it fell about five feet through the sink)—& is now living & likely to live, is quite bright, has a head of thick black hair—the Chaplain took me in yesterday, showed me the child, & Mrs. Jackson, his wife, told me the whole story, with a good deal I haven’t told you—& then she treated me to a good plate of ice cream—so I staid there nearly an hour & had quite a pleasant visit. Mrs. Lane lay in an adjoining room. Lew, as to me & my affairs there is nothing very new or important—I have not succeeded in getting any employment here yet, except that I write a little, (newspaper correspondence &c) barely enough to pay my expenses—but it is my fault, for I have not tried hard enough for anything—the last three weeks I have not felt very well—for two or three days I was down sick, for the first time in my life, (as I have never before been sick)—I feel pretty fair to-day—I go round most every day, the same as usual—I have some idea of giving myself a furlough of three or four weeks, & going home to Brooklyn, N Y but I should return again to Washington, probably. Lew, it is pretty hot weather here, & the sun affects me—(I had a sort of sun stroke about five years ago.)—You speak of being here in Washington again about the last of August—O Lewy how glad I should be to see you, to have you with me—I have thought if it could be so that you & one other person & myself could be where we could work & live together, & have each other’s society, we three, I should like it so much—but it is probably a dream—Well, Lew they had the great battle of Gettysburgh, but it does not seem to have settled anything, except to have killed & wounded a great many thousand men—It seems as though the two armies were falling back again to near their old positions on the Rappahannock—it is hard to tell what will be the next move—Yet Lewy I think we shall conquer yet—I don’t believe it is destined that this glorious Union is to be broken up by all the Sesech South, or Copheads north either—Well my darling I have scribbled you off something to show you where I am & that I have rec’d your welcome letters—but my letter is not of much interest, for I don’t feel very bright to-day—Dear son you must write me whenever you can—take opportunity—when you have nothing to do, & write me a good long letter—Your letters & your love for me are very precious to me, for I appreciate it all Lew, & give you the like in return. It is now about 3 o’clock & I will go out & mail this letter, & then go & get my dinner—So good bye Lewy—good bye my dear son & comrade & I hope it will prove God’s will that you get well & sound yet, & have many good years yet—.
WALT
Address my letters care Major Hapgood paymaster U S A at cor. 15th & F st Washington D C
Washington
August 11 1863
Dear Lewy,
I thought I would write you a few lines to day—I suppose you rec’d a letter from me eight or nine days ago—I hope this will find you in good health & spirits—I wrote to you not to go about too much, & eat & drink too freely, & I must repeat the caution—a fellow can keep himself in good condition by a little care & prudence—
Well Lewy the presentation to Dr. Bliss came off last Saturday evening—it was in Ward F—the beds were all cleared out, the sick put in other wards—the room cleaned, hung with greens &c. looked very nice—the instruments were there on exhibition the afternoon. I took a view of them, they were in four cases, & looked very fine—in the evening they were presented—speeches were made by one & another—there was a band of music &c—I stopt about 20 minutes, but got tired, and went off among the boys that were confined to their beds—the room was crowded, and everything passed off right I heard—
Lewy, we had the hottest weather here I ever experienced—it has been now about ten days, & no let up yet—Yesterday & last night was the hottest, no rain for sometime & the air prickly & burning—Still I am enjoying very good health, thank God,—better this last week than I have had for two or three months—I have some thought of going on to New York for a short time, as I have not been home now in eight months, but if I do, I shall pretty surely return here before long—Lewy the draft has been put through here in Washington the past week—they drafted lots of Secessionists & quite a good many darks—(I wonder if it wouldn’t be a good plan to draft all of both them kinds)—I don’t hear any particular war news,—the Army of the Potomac is down around Warrenton—there are conscripts arriving there to fill up the regts. more or less every day—it will be a great & sudden change of life to many, especially such weather as this.—I believe I told you in my last letter about the strange way the baby was born in the Chaplain’s—Well the baby is alive and growing like a pig, & the father Mr. Lane is getting well, Mrs. Lane ditto—Dr. Bliss is just going off on a furlough—the Chaplain & wife have left on a furlough—Taber & the rest in Ward K are all right—there have been quite a good many deaths in hospital the past week or so, the heat is bad for the poor wounded men—Well Lewy I must now wind up—I send you my love my darling son & comrade, & request you to write me soon as convenient, how you are getting along & all about things—I will write again before very long, till then good bye & God bless you dear son.
WALT WHITMAN
Address care Major Hapgood paymaster U S A cor 15th St & F st Washington D C
Washington
August 15 1863
Lewy, your letter of August 10 came safe, & was glad to hear all about you, & the way you are spending the time—Lew you must be having first rate times out there,—Well you need something to make up what you have suffered—You speak of being used well out there—Lewy I feel as if I could love any one that uses you well, & does you a kindness—but what kind of heart must that man have that would treat otherwise, or say anything insulting to a crippled young soldier, hurt in fighting for this union & flag? (well—I should say damned little man or heart in the business)—Should you meet any such you must not mind them, dear comrade, & not allow your feelings to be hurt by such loafers—(I agree with you that a rebel in the Southern army is much more respectable than a Northern Copperhead.) Dear son, when I read about your agreeable visit of a week, & how much you enjoyed yourself, I felt as much gratified as though I had enjoyed it myself—& I was truly thankful to hear that your leg is still doing well, & on the gain—you must not mind its being slowly, dear son, if it only goes forward instead of backward, & you must try to be very careful of your eating and drinking &c. not indulge in any excesses & not eat too much flummery, but generally plain food, for that is always best, & it helps along so much.—Lewy I believe I wrote you an acc’t of the presentation to Dr. Bliss—he is now off North for three weeks—Dr. Butler, (ward D) is in charge—some of the doctors & wardmasters have been drafted—poor Johnny Mahay is not in very good spirits—he was to have an operation performed before Bliss went, but he went off and did not do it—Johnny is pretty low some days—Things in Ward K are pretty much the same—they had some improvements in the Hospital, new sinks, much better, & the grounds in front & between the wards nicely laid out in flowers & grass plots &c.—but Lew it has been awful hot in the wards the past two weeks, the roofs burnt like fire—There is no particular war news,—they are having batches of conscripts now every day in the Army—Meade is down on the Upper Rappahannock & fords & around Warrenton—Lee stretches down toward Gordonsville, they say his headquarters is there—folks are all looking toward Charleston,—if we could only succeed there, I don’t know what Secesh would do—the ground seems to be slipping more & more from under their feet—Lew, the Union & the American Flag must conquer, it is destiny—it may be long, or it may be short, but that will be the result—but O what precious lives have been lost by tens of thousands in the struggle already—Lew you speak in your letter how you would like to see me—well my darling I wonder if there is not somebody who would be gratified to see you, & always will be wherever he is—Dear comrade, I was highly pleased at your telling me in your letter about your folks’ place, the house & land & all the items—you say I must excuse you for writing so much foolishness,—nothing of the kind—my darling boy when you write to me, you must write without ceremony. I like to hear every little thing about yourself & your affairs,—you need never care how you write to me Lewy, if you will only—I never think about literary perfection in letters either, it is the man & the feeling—Lew, I am feeling pretty well but the sun affects me a little, aching & fulness on the head—a good many have been sun-struck here the last two weeks—I keep shady through the middle of the day lately—Well my dear boy I have scribbled away any thing for I wanted to write you today & now I must switch off—good by my darling comrade, for the present, & I pray God to bless you now & always. Write when you feel like it, Lewy. Don’t hurry.
WALT.
Address still care Major Hapgood, paymaster U S A at cor 15th & F st Washington D C