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    Civil War Hospital Sketches
    Civil War Hospital Sketches
    Civil War Hospital Sketches
    Ebook111 pages1 hour

    Civil War Hospital Sketches

    By Louisa May Alcott

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    Before her wider fame as the author of Little Women, Louisa May Alcott achieved recognition for her accounts of her work as a volunteer nurse in an army hospital. Written during the winter of 1862–63, her lively dispatches appeared in the newspaper Commonwealth, where they were eagerly read by soldiers' friends and families. Then, as now, these chronicles revealed the desperate realities of battlefield medicine as well as the tentative first steps of women in military service.
    Writing under a pseudonym, Alcott recounted the vicissitudes of her two-day journey from her home in Concord, Massachusetts, to Washington, D.C. A fiery baptism in the practice of nursing awaited her at Washington Hospital, were she arrived immediately after the slaughter of the Army of the Potomac at the battle of Fredericksburg. Alcott's rapidly paced prose graphically depicts the facts of hospital life, deftly balancing pathos with gentle humor. A vivid and truthful portrait of an often overlooked aspect of the Civil War, this book remains among the most illuminating reports of the era's medical practices as well as a moving testimonial to the war's human cost.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDover Publications
    Release dateMar 8, 2012
    ISBN9780486138176
    Civil War Hospital Sketches
    Author

    Louisa May Alcott

    Louisa May Alcott was a 19th-century American novelist best known for her novel, Little Women, as well as its well-loved sequels, Little Men and Jo's Boys. Little Women is renowned as one of the very first classics of children’s literature, and remains a popular masterpiece today.

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    Reviews for Civil War Hospital Sketches

    4/5

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    • 5/5
      Loved this book! Absolutely hilarious - so many quotable lines! Funny, heartwarming, and heartbreaking all in one.
    • 5/5
      A memoir of Louisa May Alcott during the Civil War of her time as a hospital aid. She writes in detail of the horrors and of her misery missing her father, then becoming ill herself. Very good to get a taste of the war experience from the viewpoint of those not in the battles.
    • 5/5
      Ignore the execrable Little Women, this is the book Louisa May Alcott should be known for. She beautifully describes her short time spent as a nurse in one of the many hospitals in Washington DC devoted to caring for the Civil War wounded. Calling herself Nurse Periwinkle she describes her duties and the brave wounded and often dying men she cared for. She describes everything from amputations to muddy coffee to the insects inhabiting her small shared room to the brave, beautiful John. The respect given to doctors is contrasted with the rather shabby accommodations given to nurses but she also shows their great camaraderie. I'd recommend this book to anyone interested in history in general or the history of nursing in particular or to anyone just wanting to read about a woman's place in the world.
    • 4/5
      Tribulation Periwinkle (the fictitious Louisa May Alcott) dons her rose-colored glasses and embarks on a mission to aid the injured Civil War soldiers at Hurly-Burly House in Washington. When she wasn't washing men, changing bandages, serving food and drink, or providing comfort and cheer, Nurse Periwinkle rebounded by walking the muddy streets of Washington taking in the sights of this bustling hub of energy in the early days of the war.I learned from the excellent 30-page introduction to this novella that it wasn't uncommon for untrained women to work in the primitive army hospitals that appropriated whatever space that could be spared for disabled soldiers. Although this is a work of fiction, it rings with the truth of one who witnessed the pendulum of fear and courage of the mangled soldiers who were grateful for a woman's compassion. Miss Alcott's real-life service in the Civil War mirrored the care that Nurse Periwinkle administered to those men wounded at Frederickburg, right down to the malady that prematurely ended her nursing service. Highly recommended.
    • 4/5
      A short novel based on Alcott's experiences as a volunteer nurse during the early days of the American Civil War, which described her humorous and moderately hellish journey from Massachusetts to Washington in order to care for Union soldiers seriously wounded in battle. Alcott does a fabulous job in portraying the nobility of these wounded men, and the tireless efforts of the nurses, in the spirit of the old folk saying "to cure sometimes, to relieve often, to comfort always."
    • 4/5
      Fresh and compelling, this short novelette was drawn from Louisa May Alcott's short stint as a hospital nurse during the Civil War. It's delivered with a strong dose of Victorian morality and Victorian prose style, but Alcott's experiences are vividly recorded. So is her sympathy for the wounded and with the African Americans she meets. This is the Civil War as seen through a distinctly New England view, strongly abolitionist and strongly moralistic, but also practical, self-reliant, and positive. I only wish there was more about the hospital. One thing that jumped out at me was the central character's familiarity with death; she is only thirty, but she says she has already been called to several deathbeds. The Victorians may have been repressed, but they knew a lot more about the facts of life than we do.
    • 3/5
      Louisa May Alcott wrote many fictionalized books and stories about her life and family, the most famous of which is [Little Women]. An abolitionist and feminist, the adventurous Alcott eagerly joined other young women in offering to be a nurse for the Union Army during the Civil War. In late 1862, Alcott was sent to the Union Hospital in Georgetown, D.C. for a three month assignment. True to her nature, she wrote long, witty letters home to her family, in which she describes her duties as an untrained nurse, the soldiers she meets, and the nature of the treatment available to the wounded. Unfortunately, Alcott caught typhoid fever and became very ill. Despite her protests, she was taken home after only six weeks of service. Her letters were collected and published later that year, then republished with additions in 1869.Since the letters were written to family and never intended to be published, Alcott received some initial criticism for her sometimes comic tone. She responded beautifully with this remark in 1869:To those who have objected to a "tone of levity" in some portions of the sketches, I desire to say that the wish to make the best of every thing, and send home cheerful reports even from the saddest of scenes, an army hospital, probably produced the impression of levity upon those who have never know the sharp contrasts of the tragic and the comic in such a life.This ability to see these "sharp contrasts of the tragic and the comic" during times of duress elevates the letters from simple documentation to a nuanced view of the precariousness of life and the spirit of defiance required to repeatedly face death. The letters also reflect a caring yet direct young woman, who despite her enlightened education, was a product of her times.
    • 4/5
      Louisa May Alcott writes these stories based on her experiences working as a nurse during the Civil War.
    • 4/5
      This book made me laugh. I know that's not what you're expecting to hear, and it wasn't what I was expecting to do, but nevertheless, even though I felt I was doing something wrong, or reading it the wrong way, I did laugh. Louisa May Alcott is extremely witty in this book, in the way she describes settings, people, and interactions. It had sad parts, but it wasn't the tear jerker I thought it would be. For me this was an easy read, which I wasn't expecting either, but I really liked it. I read it as a follow up to the Glory Cloak, and I woud recommend to anyone who liked that book. I would also recommend it to anyone who thinks Louisa May Alcott is dry and hard to read - this was a kicker.
    • 4/5
      This little book is the result of the month that Louisa May Alcott spent as a volunteer nurse in a Civil War hospital in Washington, D.C. In addition to describing her duties, her patients, and the hospital staff, Alcott also provides an account of her journey to Washington and of the sights she saw during her day off. Alcott was in Washington at the right time to see the Statue of Freedom while it was on display before being placed on the dome of the Capitol. Alcott’s lively writing style may appeal to reluctant teen readers, making it a good choice for supplemental reading for U.S. history units on the Civil War.
    • 4/5
      Alcott’s short book provides a glimpse into the life of a Civil War hospital in Washington, DC from the viewpoint of nurse Periwinkle (Alcott herself) who came from the Boston area. It shows a contrast between the way various hospitals were run. I loved her descriptions of the towns as she was traveling through them in the early chapters of the book. Very descriptive; good writing.
    • 4/5
      Ms. Alcott shares her experiences as a nurse in one of the Washington DC hospitals sprung up to care for the Civil War wounded. Giving her character the name Tribulation Periwinkle, nurse Periwinkle's observations become the Sketches. We see through her eyes the panorama of a young DC, the various temperaments of doctors she works under and of other workers, and especially the personalities of the wounded boys and men who've come under her care....I maintain that the soldier who cries when his mother says “Good bye,” is the boy to fight best, and die bravest, when the time comes, or go back to her better than he went.Short, but excellent.
    • 4/5
      A somewhat fictionalized account of Alcott’s time as a nurse in Washington, DC during the Civil War. At times humorous, eye-opening and very moving, I was much more engaged in this read than I expected to be. It is a short work that stands the test of time.
    • 3/5
      You really get a sense of Alcott’s voice here, and of her time. She’s got a little Florence Nightengale going, and a little of the class clown. She describes Washington DC in the Civil War era, and she’s a compassionate and aware observer.
    • 4/5
      “Hospital Sketches” essentially reads as a tragic comedy. Here we have Louisa May Alcott’s semi-autobiographical account of her times as a nurse and the events leading up to her securing her position at the hospital.I’d been in two minds whether to read this text for some time, thinking it would be too morbid and depressing, but before finishing the first page I knew I’d misjudged the book by its title. Of course there are upsetting scenes where soldiers are so severely wounded that they have a short period of agony before death releases them, yet despite this, the senses of hope and bravery prevent the mood from becoming depressing, while the upbeat narration eliminates any feelings of morbidity. The author – or technically speaking, the “narrator”, who’s really Ms Alcott in disguise – sums up my above feelings in this quote:“Certainly, nothing was set down in malice, and to the serious-minded party who objected to a tone of levity in some portions of the Sketches, I can only say that it is a part of my religion to look well after the cheerfulnesses of life, and let the dismals shift for themselves.”The light tone is most apparent in the scenes before the want-to-be nurse starts work at the hospital. The nonsense she has to endure to get from A to B and back again is a classic case of the left hand not knowing what the right is doing. I don’t know how much of this really happened to Ms Alcott, though I suspect most if not all are true recollections. Either way, the frustration she goes through is retold in a humorous way, causing me to laugh aloud more than once.A particular funny part is when the nurse-to-be is about to sleep whilst sailing and she’s concerned about the vessel going down during the night. What finally alleviates her troubled mind is the sight of an overweight lady, because bearing in mind that “fat girls float best”, she (the future nurse) would make a beeline for the lady and hold onto her if the boat went down.An insightful and amusing read.

    Book preview

    Civil War Hospital Sketches - Louisa May Alcott

    Postscript

    I

    Obtaining Supplies

    "I want something to do."

    This remark being addressed to the world in general, no one in particular felt it their duty to reply; so I repeated it to the smaller world about me, received the following suggestions, and settled the matter by answering my own inquiry, as people are apt to do when very much in earnest.

    Write a book, quoth the author of my being.

    Don’t know enough, sir. First live, then write.

    Try teaching again, suggested my mother.

    No thank you, ma’am, ten years of that is enough.

    Take a husband like my Darby, and fulfill your mission, said sister Joan, home on a visit.

    Can’t afford expensive luxuries, Mrs. Coobiddy.

    Turn actress, and immortalize your name, said sister Vashti, striking an attitude.

    I won’t.

    Go nurse the soldiers, said my young brother, Tom, panting for the tented field.

    I will!

    So far, very good. Here was the will—now for the way. At first sight not a foot of it appeared, but that didn’t matter, for the Periwinkles are a hopeful race; their crest is an anchor, with three cock-a-doodles crowing atop. They all wear rose-colored spectacles, and are lineal descendants of the inventor of aerial architecture. An hour’s conversation on the subject set the whole family in a blaze of enthusiasm. A model hospital was erected, and each member had accepted an honorable post therein. The paternal P. was chaplain, the maternal P. was matron, and all the youthful P.s filled the pod of futurity with achievements whose brilliancy eclipsed the glories of the present and the past. Arriving at this satisfactory conclusion, the meeting adjourned, and the fact that Miss Tribulation was available as army nurse went abroad on the wings of the wind.

    In a few days a townswoman heard of my desire, approved of it, and brought about an interview with one of the sisterhood which I wished to join, who was at home on a furlough, and able and willing to satisfy all inquiries. A morning chat with Miss General S.—we hear no end of Mrs. Generals, why not a Miss?—produced three results: I felt that I could do the work, was offered a place, and accepted it, promising not to desert, but stand ready to march on Washington at an hour’s notice.

    A few days were necessary for the letter containing my request and recommendation to reach headquarters, and another, containing my commission, to return; therefore no time was to be lost; and heartily thanking my pair of friends, I tore home through the December slush as if the rebels were after me, and like many another recruit, burst in upon my family with the announcement—

    I’ve enlisted!

    An impressive silence followed. Tom, the irrepressible, broke it with a slap on the shoulder and the graceful compliment—

    Old Trib, you’re a trump!

    "Thank you; then I’ll take something:" which I did, in the shape of dinner, reeling off my news at the rate of three dozen words to a mouthful; and as every one else talked equally fast, and all together, the scene was most inspiring.

    As boys going to sea immediately become nautical in speech, walk as if they already had their sea legs on, and shiver their timbers on all possible occasions, so I turned military at once, called my dinner my rations, saluted all new comers, and ordered a dress parade that very afternoon. Having reviewed every rag I possessed, I detailed some for picket duty while airing over the fence; some to the sanitary influences of the washtub; others to mount guard in the trunk; while the weak and wounded went to the Work-basket Hospital, to be made ready for active service again. To this squad I devoted myself for a week; but all was done, and I had time to get powerfully impatient before the letter came. It did arrive however, and brought a disappointment along with its good will and friendliness, for it told me that the place in the Armory Hospital that I supposed I was to take, was already filled, and a much less desirable one at Hurly-burly House was offered instead.

    That’s just your luck, Trib. I’ll tote your trunk up garret for you again; for of course you won’t go, Tom remarked, with the disdainful pity which small boys affect when they get into their teens. I was wavering in my secret soul, but that settled the matter, and I crushed him on the spot with martial brevity—

    It is now one; I shall march at six.

    I have a confused recollection of spending the afternoon in pervading the house like an executive whirlwind, with my family swarming after me, all working, talking, prophesying and lamenting, while I packed my go-abroady possessions, tumbled the rest into two big boxes, danced on the lids till they shut, and gave them in charge, with the direction,—

    If I never come back, make a bonfire of them.

    Then I choked down a cup of tea, generously salted instead of sugared, by some agitated relative, shouldered my knapsack—it was only a traveling bag, but do let me preserve the unities—hugged my family three times all round without a vestige of unmanly emotion, till a certain dear old lady broke down upon my neck, with a despairing sort of wail—

    Oh, my dear, my dear, how can I let you go?

    I’ll stay if you say so, mother.

    But I don’t; go, and the Lord will take care of you.

    Much of the Roman matron’s courage had gone into the Yankee matron’s composition, and, in spite of her tears, she would have sent ten sons to the war, had she possessed them, as freely as she sent one daughter, smiling and flapping on the door-step till I vanished, though the eyes that followed me were very dim, and the handkerchief she waved was very wet.

    My transit from The Gables to the village depot was a funny mixture of good wishes and good byes, mud-puddles and shopping. A December twilight is not the most cheering time to enter upon a somewhat perilous enterprise, and, but for the presence of Vashti and neighbor Thorn, I fear that I might have added a drop of the briny to the native moisture of—

    The town I left behind me;

    though I’d no thought of giving out: oh, bless you, no! When the engine screeched Here we are, I clutched my escort in a fervent embrace, and skipped into the car with as blithe a farewell as if going on a bridal tour—though I believe brides don’t usually wear cavernous black bonnets and fuzzy brown coats, with a hair-brush, a pair of rubbers, two books, and a bag of gingerbread distorting the pockets of the same. If I thought that any one would believe it, I’d boldly state that I slept from C. to B., which would simplify matters immensely; but as I know they wouldn’t, I’ll confess that the head under the funereal coal-hod fermented with all manner of high thoughts and heroic purposes to do or die,—perhaps both; and the heart under the fuzzy brown coat felt very tender with the memory of the dear old lady, probably sobbing over her army socks and the loss of her topsy-turvy Trib. At this juncture I took the veil, and what I did behind it is nobody’s business; but I maintain that the soldier who cries when his mother says Good bye, is the boy to fight best, and die bravest, when the time comes, or go back to her better than he went.

    Till nine o’clock I trotted about the city streets, doing those last errands which no woman would even go to heaven without attempting, if she could. Then I went to my usual refuge, and, fully intending to keep awake, as a sort of vigil appropriate to the occasion, fell fast asleep and dreamed propitious dreams till my rosy-faced cousin waked me with a kiss.

    A bright day smiled upon my enterprise, and at ten I reported myself to my General, received last instructions and no end of the sympathetic encouragement which women give, in look, touch, and tone more effectually than in words. The next step was to get a free pass to Washington, for I’d no desire to waste my substance on railroad companies when the boys needed even a spinster’s mite. A friend of mine had procured such a pass, and I was bent on doing likewise, though I had to face the president of the railroad to accomplish it. I’m a bashful individual, though I can’t get any one to believe it; so it cost me a great effort to poke about the Worcester depot till the right door appeared, then walk into a room containing several gentlemen, and blunder out my request in a high state of stammer and blush. Nothing could have been more courteous than this

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