Mary Chesnut accounts of Hospitals

From Mary Chesnut's Civil War, C. Vann Woodward, Ed. p. 133

8/5/1861; ...Went to Miss Tompkins's hospital. There I was rebuked. I deserved it.

Me: "Are there any Carolinians here?"

Miss T: "I never ask where the sick and wounded come from."

From Mary Chesnut's Civil War, C. Vann Woodward, Ed. p. 143

8/13/1861; ...Went to Miss Sally Tompkins's hospital today. Mrs. James Alfred Jones [Mary (Henry) Jones, wife of a Richmond attorney] and Mrs. Carter [Martha Milledge (Flournoy) Carter, widow of Dr. John Carter of Augusta, Ga.] were assisting Miss Tompkins.

From Mary Chesnut's Civil War, C. Vann Woodward, Ed. p. 149

8/18/1861; ...Miss Sally Tompkins laughed at Mrs. Carter - whose face is so strikingly handsome the wounded men could not help looking at her, and one was not so bad off but he burst into flowery compliment. Mrs. Carter turned scarlet with surprise and indignation. Miss Sallie Tompkins said, "If you could only leave your beauty at the door and bring in your goodness and faculty."

From Mary Chesnut's Civil War, C. Vann Woodward, Ed. p. 158

8/23/1861; ...At the almshouse, Dr. Gibson is in charge. He married a Miss Ayer of Philadelphia. He is fine looking and has charming manners. The very beau ideal of a family physician - so suave and gentle and pleasant. The Sisters of Charity are his nurses. That makes all the difference in the world. The sisters! They told us Mrs. Ricketts was there. Mrs. Randolph did not ask for her. One elderly sister - withered and wrinkled and yet with the face of an angel - spoke severely to a young surgeon. "Stop that skylarking," she said. And he answered, "Where have you sent that pretty sister you had in here yesterday? We all fell in love with her."

The venerable Sister of Charity was ministering to a Yankee with his arm cut off.

Everything was so clean - and in perfect order.

Dr. Gibson approached this presiding genius and asked her some questions. I did not hear her answer, but he said: "No. No, I have no time now - but it will be all right. Tomorrow we two will lay our heads together and arrange a new plan."

"Stop, doctor. We can't wait until tomorrow. It must be done tonight."

"All right," laughed the doctor - and he gravely turned to us. We had the joke all to ourselves, however. She did not see it.

After a while she said, "Honi soit qui mal y pense."

I said, "We did not know you angels of mercy made merry sometimes over your work." The wounded soldiers enjoyed every word that was said.

Occasionally one looked sulky, for were we not the hated Southerners? But I think as a general rule all that was forgotten in the hospital.

Then we went to the St. Charles. Horrors upon horrors again - want of organization. Long rows of them dead, dying. Awful smells, awful sights.

A boy from home had sent for me. He was lying on a cot, ill of fever. Next him a man died in convulsions while we stood there.

I was making arrangements with a nurse, hiring him to take care of this lad. I do not remember any more, for I fainted. Next that I knew of, the doctor and Mrs. Randolph were having me, a limp rag, put into the carriage at the door of the hospital.

Fresh air, I daresay, brought me to. First of all we had given our provisions to our Carolinians at Miss Sally Tompkins's. There they were, nice and clean and merry as grigs.

...We saw among the wounded at the Federal hospital a negro soldier. He was with the other, on equal terms - and a sister was nursing him.

From Mary Chesnut's Civil War, C. Vann Woodward, Ed. p. 161

8/25/1861; ...A rose by any other name - that is, our Florence Nightengale - is Sally Tompkins. Went to her hospital today.

From Mary Chesnut's Civil War, C. Vann Woodward, Ed. p. 164

8/26/1861; ...We then went to Pizzini's, that very best of Italian confectioners. From there we went to Miss Sally Tompkins's hospital, loaded with good things for the wounded. The men under Miss Sally's kind care looked so clean and comfortable. Cheerful, one might say. They were pleasant and nice to see. One, however, was dismal in tone and aspect, and he repeated at intervals, with no change of words, in a forlorn monotone, "What a hard time we have had since we left home."