Sufferers’ Land – Post 52 – Future Warriors of Norwalk

Sufferers’ Land

Future Warriors of Norwalk

by Dave Barton

Dave Benedict was at Kenyon College during the Cholera epidemic of 1854. Some of the grandchildren of the pioneers were able to attend college, and Dave was one of the first to go.

David DeForest Benedict

David Deforest Benedict as a young man

Dave was popular and very active on campus. He helped start a fraternity, founded and was the first editor of The Collegian, the college’s first monthly magazine, and also started Kenyon’s annual, which was the third such publication in the country. [1]

Fanny Benedict still lived at home. Dave visited her and his relatives often, and it was probably during one of these visits that he met a young woman from New Haven Township, Harriott Melvina Deaver.

Harriott Deaver was born in Watertown, New York on May 4, 1835. Later in life, she told of seeing rafts of logs from the North Woods floating down the river and going end-over-end over the falls. She moved to New Haven Township in Huron County with her parents when she was five years old. At that time, New Haven was a busy town, a way station for wagons carrying grain to Milan. In later years, she remembered the wagons going past her house, drawn by horses with tinkling bells.

Harriott was educated in Cuyahoga Falls, where she learned French. She was a dignified woman, who stood erect and solidly on her heels, feet pointed straight ahead. That trait and her features made some wonder if she was descended from Native Americans. [2]

Harriott’s father James Deaver was a cabinetmaker. He was a man of modest means with a net worth of $1,200. In 1850, the Deaver household consisted of ten people — James Deaver, age sixty-five, his wife Harriott, fifty-five, one son and six daughters, of whom Harriott was the youngest. As was customary for a family of their means, a German woman named Margret Singer lived with them and helped Harriott’s mother with the chores. [3]

The Deaver’s son Oscar was crippled. He had lost both hands while attempting to push a friend from in front of a cannon on the Fourth of July several years earlier.

James Deaver was originally from Maryland, where he was born in 1782 as James Devier, his family having come to America from France. His parents died when he was young. Relatives raised him and changed his name to Deaver. In 1808, he married Harriott Shaon, the daughter of David and Eleanor Shaon, who were slaveholders in Maryland.

James and Harriott had their first child Ellen in 1808. Harriott’s mother presented the child with an African American girl for a body servant. James, who did not believe in slavery, was disgusted and moved his family to New York to get away from the institution. He took the girl with him and freed her when they arrived. [4]

Dave Benedict graduated from Kenyon in 1856 and in October he and Harriott married. They moved to Cleveland, where he attended Case Medical College. He was a sociable man. While at Case, he met a young man who would play a large role in his life and the life of his descendants, Louis Severance.

Louis was born in Cleveland on August 1, 1838 to Solomon and Mary Long Severance. Louis never knew his father, who died before he was born. After Solomon died, Louis’ mother moved in with her father, David Long, Jr., who was the first medical doctor in town, and founded the Academy of Medicine of Cleveland.

Louis attended Cleveland Public schools, and when he graduated in 1856, he went to work at the Commercial Bank of Cleveland. Louis may have met Dave Benedict at his grandfather’s house, or perhaps at church, both men being Episcopalians. Dave was twenty-three and Louis was eighteen when they met, but in spite of the difference in age and background, they became good friends.

Dave took Louis to Norwalk to visit his family, and introduced him to his sister Fanny. Fanny was seventeen at the time, and liked the looks of this young bank employee from Cleveland. The feeling was mutual, and Louis started to court her. [5]

The oldest Wickham son also left Norwalk to go to college.

Charles Preston Wickham as a Young Man

Charles Wickham as a young man. Clipped from family photo.

Charlie Wickham began studying law at Cincinnati Law School in 1854. Before leaving for college, he worked in the family business. He started at the Norwalk Reflector as a delivery boy when he was very young. He later remembered delivering the newspaper on New Year’s Day 1852 announcing the beginning of railroad service to Norwalk. [6]

Charlie remembered those days working at the newspaper fondly. In later years he remarked, I look upon the Reflector Office as my alma mater, from whence I have drawn, in great part, my sustenance, both physical and intellectual. At its reading table I received my first idea and knowledge of this world – its lights and shades – its follies and crimes – its men and women: indeed, of everything that I know; for at the editor’s table you may learn of everything and everybody – love and law – religion and reason – politics and politeness – statesmen and scholars – poets and professors – merchants and mechanics. There is hardly a limit to the knowledge which you may there obtain; it is a “Pierean Spring,” whose waters never fail. Author and statesman, philosopher and president, have breathed with the air of a printing office, an inspiration, and have gone forth to electrify and govern the world. [7]

Charlie’s high school sweetheart Emma Wildman also went off to college, a rarity for women in those days. After graduating from high school, she attended Oberlin College. [8] Oberlin was one of the first co-educational schools in the United States, accepting women in 1837.

The world was changing for this new generation, the grandsons and granddaughters of the pioneers. The struggles and hardships of the early settlers had created for these young people an opportunity unparalleled in the nation’s history. The pioneers’ grandchildren were proud of what those hardy people had accomplished, and would be active in preserving their heritage. Like their grandparents, they also would be tested, not by struggles and hardships of the frontier, but on the battlefield.

 

 

Footnotes:

[1] Story of David Benedict’s life and accomplishments at Kenyon College are from Family, by Ian Frazier, Farrar, Straus Giroux; 1994; p. 82.

[2] The early life of Harriott Benedict is from the Family History: Wickham, Benedict, Preston & Deaver, (unpublished) by Agnes and Harriott Wickham, edited by Dave Barton; p. 10.

[3] Information about the Deaver family in New Haven Township is from The 1850 Huron County Census, pp. 192b & 193a.

[4] Information about the Deaver family history is from the Family History: Wickham, Benedict, Preston & Deaver, (unpublished) by Agnes and Harriott Wickham, edited by Dave Barton; pp. 9-10.

[5] Information about Louis Severance is from the American National Biography, Volume 19, p 662. Information about his grandfather, Dr. David Long is from The Encyclopedia of Cleveland History.

[6] “When the ‘Iron Colt’ First Dashed into Norwalk,” The Firelands Pioneer, New Series, Volume XX; The Firelands Historical Society; December, 1918; p. 2065.

[7] “History of the Firelands Press,” by C.P. Wickham, The Firelands Pioneer, Old Series, Volume II, Number 4; The Firelands Historical Society; September 1861, p. 12.

[8] From Obituaries – The Fireland Pioneer, New Series, Volume XXI; The Firelands Historical Society; January 1920, p. 2486.

 

#

This post was first published on this blog in 2009.

 #

Previous Post: Railroads and Cholera

Next Post: Pioneer Heritage

#

Thanks for visiting! Share and like this post below, and on Facebook. Let me know what you think in the comments. I’d love to hear from you!

Advertisements

Sufferers’ Land – Post 51 – Railroads and Cholera

Sufferers’ Land

Railroads and Cholera

by Dave Barton

For years, Norwalk’s prosperity depended on its position as Huron County Seat. The town of Milan dominated the commerce of the region with its canal connecting it to Lake Erie via the Huron River. Every summer and fall, huge wagons filled with grain converged on Milan, making it the largest wheat port of its time.

In the early 1850s, however, a new technology threatened Milan’s economic hegemony — the railroad. The citizens of Milan could have used their money and political influence to bring the railroad to their town, but they were so sure of the advantages of water transport that they spurned it. As a result, the “iron horse” passed north and south of them. The Conestoga Wagons no longer had to travel all the way to Milan, and the town went into a dramatic and irreversible decline. By the end of the decade, the once bustling port town was a sleepy backwater.

Railroad Locomotive

Rusler, William, A Standard History of Allen County, Volume I; The American Historical Society, Chicago, IL and New York, NY; 1921; page 333.

Norwalk was one of the towns that profited from the railroads at Milan’s expense. The first train line in the village was the Toledo Norwalk and Cleveland Railroad, which started service in January 1853. [1]

The advent of the railroad was a great boon to the economy of the village, but it also brought danger to the unwary. In the early years, many people and livestock met an untimely end because of this new means of conveyance.

In November of 1853, less than a year after train service commenced, a number of boys found a handcar sitting unattended on a sidetrack and decided to take it for a joyride. They crowded aboard and were soon speeding down the track. One boy, Hezekiah Smith, accidentally caught his scarf in the crank of the car and was thrown to the ground with a broken neck. [2]

Accidental death was not the only tragedy brought to Norwalk by the railroad. Trains transporting passengers from place to place also caused the rapid spread of diseases like Cholera. In 1854, a year after the railroad came to Norwalk, the disease made its final and most deadly appearance in the village.

Deaths Dispensary

“Death’s Dispensary,” a cartoon by George Pinwell in FUN Magazine, August 18, 1866

William Wickham later described a deserted town, the inhabitants either gone to the country or hiding in their homes. Once again, the only sound in the village was the rumble of wagons carrying the dead to cemeteries. William recalled thirty-one names of those who perished from the disease, among this number were seven from one family. [3]

Another witness to those terrible days later remembered the valiant women who cared for the sick at great risk to themselves.     Cholera broke out virulently in Norwalk in 1854. The town was nearly deserted. But some there were who stayed; and some of these women made it their business to nurse the stricken ones. Some have been named to me: “Grandma Mason, mother of Sarah Mason the teacher; Mrs. John Green, mother of Miss Rilla Green; Lizzie Higgins and Mary Higgins Farr. They literally took their lives in their hands. Lizzie Higgins was very ill with it; Mrs. C.L. Boalt had her brought to her home and nursed her back to health. Mary Higgins Farr worked until worn out. The doctor said she must quit and go away. She replied that she was needed. I think she was dead the night of the next day. She was, even before the cholera, much beloved for her womanliness and her works. She was a daughter of Judge Higgins and the wife of Joseph M. Farr; Lizzie Higgins was afterwards his wife. [4]

With the coming of cold weather that autumn, the disease abated and disappeared. Never again would this contagion visit the Firelands. However, an even more terrible tragedy loomed on the horizon. The nation was less than ten years from a Civil War that would bring hardship and sorrow to the village of Norwalk.

 

 

Footnotes:

[1] “When the ‘Iron Colt’ First Dashed into Norwalk,” The Firelands Pioneer, New Series, Volume XX; The Firelands Historical Society; December, 1918; p. 2065.

[2] From “Norwalk, Its Men, Women and Girls,” by William Wickham, The Firelands Pioneer, New Series, Volume XX; The Firelands Historical Society; December 1918; p. 2077.

[3] William Wickham’s recollection of the 1854 Cholera outbreak in Norwalk is from “Norwalk, Its Men, Women and Girls,” The Firelands Pioneer, New Series, Volume XX; The Firelands Historical Society; December 1918; pp. 2099-2100.

[4] “Ancient Dames of Norwalk,” by Charlotte Wooster Boalt, The Firelands Pioneer, New Series, Volume XX; The Firelands Historical Society; December, 1918; p. 1998.

 

#

This post was first published on this blog in 2009.

 #

Previous Post: Norwalk Life in the 1850’s

Next Post: Future Warriors of Norwalk

#

Thanks for visiting! Share and like this post below, and on Facebook. Let me know what you think in the comments. I’d love to hear from you!

Happy New Year

Happy New Year

Happy New Year, everyone!

2017 was the best year yet for the Firelands History Website. I expect 2018 to be even better.

What will I be posting this year?

Pioneer FireplaceFirst up, I’ll finish re-posting the Sufferers’ Land series, which will take me to the end of February. In March, I’ll begin posting new stories based on research from The Firelands Pioneer, the journal of the Firelands Historical Society, and from W.W. William’s book History of the Firelands. For the past couple months, I’ve been reading the nineteen journals that make up the  Old Series of The Firelands Pioneer, looking for stories that I think will interest you.

Here are some of the topics I’ll be posting:

  • The trek to the Firelands by Henry and Amelia Lockwood and David and Elizabeth Gibbs. These two couples played a huge role in the early posts of the Sufferers’ Land series. But I have not yet told the harrowing story of their trek to the Firelands. It’s a heartrending tale of suffering and tragedy,  but ultimately an uplifting story of perseverance.
  • The life of the pioneers on the frontier: how they lived, cleared the land, and the hardships they endured, focusing on stories of the first settlers of the Firelands, from 1808 to 1812.
  • The War of 1812 in the Firelands, how those early pioneers fared in what became a no-man’s land between British and American forces.
  • The history of the Civil War, especially the story of the  55th Ohio Volunteer Infantry, Norwalk’s own regiment.

I appreciate everyone who has stopped by this site over the past year, and look forward to sharing more tales of the Firelands with you in 2018.

Happy New Year to you and yours.

Dave Barton

 

Thanks for visiting! Share and like this post below, and on Facebook. Let me know what you think in the comments. I’d love to hear from you!

 

Battle of Chickamauga III – A Cup and a Spoon

Previous Post: Chickamauga II: General Nathan Bedford Forest Comes to Breakfast

#

In her memoir Little Doctor on the Black Horse, Harriott Benedict Wickham Barton does not describe the Battle of Chickamauga because David Benedict did not mention the battle in any of the letters he wrote to his wife. Instead, she added a few pages at the end, as if it were an afterthought. In the right order, this, and the previous two posts about the Battle of Chickamauga should be read after Little Doctor on the Black Horse: Post #4 – A Prisoner of War on this website.

#

Battle of Chickamauga – Part II

by Harriott Benedict Wickham Barton

After the armies had withdrawn, the medical workers were paroled to remain at the battlefield to care for the wounded and assist in their exchange or removal to hospitals. Such desolation! Hillsides scarred, trees shattered or uprooted! But the worst of all the dead, rotting in the late September sun, while overhead the vultures circled with funereal grace. They watched fearfully for friends, and, when possible, buried them. Somewhere on the fought-over ground, David found and carried away with him a coin silver spoon and a gracefully shaped pewter cup, lightly engraved with the Masonic emblem. On the back of the spoon is “Dr. Wm. R. Lemon, 82nd Regt., Ind. Vol.” [1]

Cup and Spoon

Their gruesome duties finished, the medicos were shipped by rail to Atlanta. This trip they spoke of a “running the gauntlet,” for, at every little station the populace gathered to stare and jeer: “So Bragg got you at last, didn’t he! Ya! Ya! Lincoln’s Hirelings!”

Arrived in Atlanta, they were marched through the street to the prison, amidst more jeers. David, as an officer, was allowed to keep his belongings, so that he was able to share his blanket and cup with poor Hyde, who had been stripped of all but the clothes he wore. After a short stay in Atlanta they were sent, by a circuitous route, to Richmond. Here the officers, including Drs. Benedict, Herrick and, probably, Fowler, went to Libby Prison, while Hyde, being non-commissioned was incarcerated in another part of the complex, Pemberton Building, and was, thereafter, unheard of by his regiment and his family, until near the end of the war. His terrible experiences in several different Southern prisons, including, for a long time, Andersonville, make the material of his very interesting book, A Captive of War. [2]

The medical unit of the 17th O.V.I. consisted of Chief Surgeon, Dr. Herrick and two Asst. Surgeons, Dr. Fowler and Benedict. They lived, when in camp, in two small tents, with another small one for kitchen and supply room, and a larger one for a hospital. Also, had an ambulance, with shelves on either side (lengthwise) to hold stretchers. Nurses were privates, assigned to special duty. The steward, Hyde, cared for the supplies and assisted in many ways. When on the march, they rode horseback, with gear in the ambulance and wagon and slept under a sort of pup tent made by slinging a tarp or a pole, or just curled up in a fence corner. [3]

This ends my grandmother’s account of the Battle of Chickamauga. In my next post, we will return to her memoir of Little Doctor on the Black Horse with Post #5: Libby Prison.

 

Editors Notes

[1] I am fortunate to have these items in my possession. The Masonic symbol on the cup is faded, but discernable. A close up photo shows it clearly. Doctor Benedict was a Mason, which may have been what caused him to pick it up.

Cup Inscription

There is no name inscribed on the cup, so I have no clue to whom it belonged, or whether that person survived the battle. The spoon is a different matter, however.

The inscription on the back of the spoon is so worn as to be barely visible to the naked eye. Fortunately, I was able to take a photo with a readable image.

Spoon Inscription

Who was Doctor Lemon? My grandmother did not try to find him, apparently, and in the twentieth century, it was not as easy as it is today to research people. For me, it was as simple as a quick search on Ancestry and Google. I found that Doctor William Harrison Lemon’s story was similar in many ways to Doctor Benedict’s. They were about the same age, and went to medical school at roughly the same time. Both were married and had children. Both survived the war, but Doctor Lemon lived longer. He died in 1923, while Dr. Benedict passed away in 1901. Doctor Lemon also seemed to have been left behind by Union forces at the Battle of Chickamauga. In the only reference to him in a memoir of the regiment by its commander (Hunter, Alf G. History of the Eighty-second Indiana volunteer Infantry: Its Organization, Campaigns and Battles (Indianapolis: W. B. Burford, Printer), 1893, page 89), he is listed as missing after the battle. Whether he was captured, I do not know, but he was mustered out with his regiment at the end of the war, so he did survive (82nd Indiana Volunteer Infantry Officers Roster). I wonder if the letters he wrote home to his wife (as I am sure he did) today languish in an attic or closet somewhere in Indiana (or Kansas, where he died). So many stories remain untold! What  a pity! A good starting point to learn more about what I know about Doctor Lemon is his Find a Grave page. If you find something more, please let me know.

 

Doctor William Lemon

Doctor William Lemon – from Find a Grave

 

A Captive of War[2] Captive of War, by Solon Hyde, Hospital Steward with the 17th Ohio Volunteer Infantry, was published in 1900 by McClure, Phillips & Company. That version is now available online at Google Books. In 1996, Solon’s great-grandson Neil Thompson republished the book. It is available on Amazon. As an account of what Union prisoners of war experienced during the Civil War, this book cannot be beat. I highly recommend it.

[3] This last paragraph seems an awkward end to this account of the Battle of Chickamauga. I wonder if my grandmother intended to write more, but never got around to it.

#

harriott-wickham-1915-20-2About the Author: Harriott Benedict Wickham Barton   (1890-1981) was born in Norwalk, Ohio to Frank and Agnes Wickham. Her father was the youngest of twelve children of Frederick and Lucy Wickham, early settlers of the Firelands, and her mother was the great-great granddaughter of Platt and Sarah Benedict, who founded the city of Norwalk. Educated at Norwalk High School and Wooster College, she became a teacher. She marched as a suffragette and worked for the Labor Department during World War I. After the war, she went west to teach school, and became one of the last homesteaders, proving up a property near Wheatland, Wyoming. She married Angus Barton in 1924 and they raised four children on the homestead through the Dust Bowl and World War II. In the late 1940s, she and her Angus moved to Ohio, where they spent the rest of their lives. During the 1950s and ‘60s, she wrote “Little Doctor on the Black Horse,” poetry, and short stories, some which were published in various journals and magazines.

Thanks for visiting! Share and like this post below, and on Facebook. Let me know what you think in the comments. I’d love to hear from you!

Battle of Chickamauga II – General Nathan Bedford Forrest Comes to Breakfast

Previous Post: Chickamauga I: Muskets and Medicine

#

In her memoir, Little Doctor on the Black Horse, Harriott Benedict Wickham Barton does not describe the Battle of Chickamauga, because her grandfather David Benedict did not mention the battle in any of the letters he wrote to his wife. Instead, as if it were an afterthought, she added a few pages about the battle at the end of the memoir. In the right order, this, and my previous post, Battle of Chickamauga I – Muskets and Medicine, should be read after Little Doctor on the Black Horse: Post #4 – A Prisoner of War on this website.

#

Battle of Chickamauga – Part II

by Harriott Benedict Wickham Barton

At sunrise on Monday, two Confederate generals, Forrest [1] and Cheatham, [2] rode into camp, tied their horses and remarked casually that they had come to breakfast. Gen. Cheatham took a cup of coffee and spoke of the pleasure he took in a cup of “choice Ric,” but Forrest (evidently somewhat of a fire-eater), refused the unaccustomed luxury. “not,” he said, “that I do not like coffee and the like, but because we have been deprived of them by the iron heel of a tyrannical government and a damnable blockade. I scorn to indulge until I can do so in an established Confederacy, whose independence has been won by the strong arm of Southern chivalry!”

Gen. Cheatham laughed dryly and passed his cup of more coffee. Later he spoke sadly of the battle, and of the stamina of the Yankee soldiers. “They fought well, gentlemen. All the glory we can claim is that we hold the field; and against such a foe it is a glory. But dearly bought! Our loss is frightful – equal to yours. A fearful cost of life, fearful! The dead looked as if mowed down in swaths!” It was to be many months before the doctors learned the full story of the battle, on whose fringes they had labored so desperately, and heard how their beloved Gen. George Thomas had earned the title: “Rock of Chickamauga.” [3]

Next Post: Chickamauga III: A Cup and a Spoon.

 

Editor’s Notes

 

Nathan Bedford Forrest

Nathan Bedford Forrest

[1] So my great-great-grandfather David Benedict broke bread (more likely hardtack) with Lieutenant General Nathan Bedford Forrest. At least that seems most likely. In Captive of War [3], Solon Hyde does not mention Doctor Benedict being of the breakfast party, but I see no reason why he would not have been, being an officer. General Forrest, of course, is renowned (or notorious, depending on your point of view) for his tactical and strategic genius during the Civil War. According to Ulysses S. Grant, he was “that devil Forrest.” After the war, General Robert E. Lee and Confederate President Jefferson Davis expressed regret that they did not use his talents fully. In Ken Burns documentary about the American Civil War, the late historian Shelby Foote giggled when discussing some of Forrest’s more daring exploits. However, the general’s reputation today is tarnished by his role in the massacre of black Union troops at Fort Pillow and his membership in the Klu Klux Klan after the war. There is no question what Solon Hyde thought of him. His last words about General Forrest in Captive of War were: “. . . as he rode away, he left on our minds the impression of a man without heart or soul.” Check out the Nathan Bedford Forrest article in Wikipedia for details about his life and Civil War career,

Benjamin Franklin Cheatham

Benjamin Franklin Cheatham

[2] In contrast to his low opinion of General Forrest, Solon Hyde held Major General Cheatham in high regard. Commenting on the general’s remarks about the battle while at breakfast, Solon wrote: “It seemed to touch him as he dwelt upon the carnage, and recalled the battle scenes with an emotion that forced us to acknowledge him a brave man, honest in his conviction of the justness of the cause for which he fought.” Although General Cheatham may have been a better man than General Forrest in Solon’s eyes, history does not treat him as kindly. Near the end of the war, in November of 1864, he was sharply criticized for allowing a Union force to slip by his corps, leading to the disastrous Confederate defeat at the Battle of Franklin the following day. For more about him, see the Wikipedia article, Benjamin F. Cheatham.

A Captive of War[3] Harriott’s account of Generals Forrest and Cheatham having breakfast with Union medical officers the day after the Battle of Chickamauga come from Solon Hyde’s book Captive of War, a memoir of the Civil War experiences of Solon Hyde of the 17th Ohio Volunteer Infantry. In addition to his descriptions of the Battle of Chickamauga (which includes how Doctor Benedict and he stayed behind with the wounded as the other medical personnel “skedaddled”), Solon tells of his harrowing experiences as a prisoner of war, to include his time at Andersonville. After the war, he assisted Clara Barton in her work to identify the dead at that notorious prison camp. The book was published in 1900 by McClure, Phillips & Company. That version is now available online at Google Books. In 1996, Solon’s great-grandson Neil Thompson republished the book. It is available on Amazon. As an account of what Union prisoners of war experienced during the Civil War, this book cannot be beat. I highly recommend it.

#

harriott-wickham-1915-20-2About the Author: Harriott Benedict Wickham Barton   (1890-1981) was born in Norwalk, Ohio to Frank and Agnes Wickham. Her father was the youngest of twelve children of Frederick and Lucy Wickham, early settlers of the Firelands, and her mother was the great-great granddaughter of Platt and Sarah Benedict, who founded the city of Norwalk. Educated at Norwalk High School and Wooster College, she became a teacher. She marched as a suffragette and worked for the Labor Department during World War I. After the war, she went west to teach school, and became one of the last homesteaders, proving up a property near Wheatland, Wyoming. She married Angus Barton in 1924 and they raised four children on the homestead through the Dust Bowl and World War II. In the late 1940s, she and her Angus moved to Ohio, where they spent the rest of their lives. During the 1950s and ‘60s, she wrote “Little Doctor on the Black Horse,” poetry, and short stories, some which were published in various journals and magazines.

 Next Post: Chickamauga III: A Cup and a Spoon.

Thanks for visiting! Share and like this post below, and on Facebook. Let me know what you think in the comments. I’d love to hear from you!

 

Battle of Chickamauga I – Muskets and Medicine

 In her memoir Little Doctor on the Black Horse, Harriott Benedict Wickham Barton does not describe the Battle of Chickamauga, because David Benedict did not mention the battle in any of the letters he wrote to his wife. Instead, she added a few pages at the end of the memoir, as if it were an afterthought. In the right order, this, and the two posts that follow should be read after Little Doctor on the Black Horse, Post #4: A Prisoner of War on this website.

#

Battle of Chickamauga – Part I

by Harriott Benedict Wickham Barton

.

There is no account of the Battle of Chickamauga in D. D. B.’s letters, but years later the steward, Solon Hyde wrote a book, A Captive of War [1] in which he told his war experiences. The following is from that book (condensed).

On September 19, 1863, the rising sun was gilding the crests of the north Georgia hills as the 17th O.V.I., Col. Connell commanding, completed a frosty night’s march from the right flank of Rosecrans’ army to the extreme left, and deployed just to the west of the hills that bordered the Chattanooga Road. The blue clad line, tense and quiet as yet, extended some six miles along the front. Then, the boom of cannon; a shell fell nearby. The battle had begun.

 The medics had had the luck to find an excellent hospital site at the foot of a wooded hill, in a grove surrounding a gushing spring whose clear waters were carried in a wooden trough to a log spring house. The supply wagons rushed straw from an old barn, while the doctors, steward and “special duty” soldiers who served as nurses unpacked and arranged instruments and supplies. The red hospital flag was run up and some twenty tents erected. The flood of casualties began. The tents soon filed. Many more lay on heaps of straw throughout the grove, with less severely wounded propped against trees. The overworked ambulances could not keep up with their removal. Throughout the day, the doctors and nurses worked at top speed, bandaging, stitching, administering sedatives (asedetida, valerian, opiates and whiskey) while the bloody heap of amputated arms, feet and legs grew higher.

 

Union Field Hospital

Union Hospital at Savage Station, Virginia – 1862

 

 The surgery of a century ago now sounds fantastically inadequate. Anesthetics were crude, antiseptics still beyond the horizon. No penicillin, no sulfa, no blood bank, no sterilization. Instruments were washed, when and if, in any available water. Chas. Johnson in Muskets and Medicine, says: The frightful handicap of Civil War surgery was a lack of knowledge of asepsis and antiseptics. The surgeon was making use of the very best lights of his day, dangerous as some of them were. [2]

With the dawn (Sunday) the battle resumed. The Rebel line had advanced so far that the Cloud’s Spring hospital site [3] was now to its right and rear, too far behind the fighting to receive so many casualties. But soon the Confederate sharpshooters spied the red flag amidst the trees, and their rifle fire was followed by artillery shells which soon sent doctors and nurses scurrying behind trees or over the hill. David and Hyde took refuge in the spring house.

Wham! A shell struck the ground beyond the hut. The loose straw blazed, the flames spreading toward a tent. Solon grabbed a bucket of water and started for the fire, but a ball close to his head sent him scrambling back to shelter. The lone patient in the tent, whose ankle had been almost severed in the battle, managed to crawl out, his useless foot dangling, and was carried to safety.

Suddenly, from beyond the road sounded the blood-curdling Rebel yell, and a group of horsemen burst from the woods. Hyde seized the sheet from the amputating table and waved a bloody flag of truce. The 17th’s hospital had been captured by Col. Scott’s troops of Forrest’s Cavalry! The colonel, upon learning that he had taken a hospital of wounded, both Blue and Gray, at once detailed men to guard and assist, and also took over the Cloud’s home on the hilltop, for additional shelter.

Later a small Union force swooped in, recapturing the site, only to be, themselves, hemmed in and cut to pieces. The doctors went on with their work, too busy to worry about the changes.

Next: Chickamauga II – Nathan Bedford Forrest Comes to Breakfast

 

Editor Footnotes

A Captive of War[1] A Captive of War is a memoir of the Civil War experiences of Solon Hyde of the 17th Ohio Volunteer Infantry. In addition to his descriptions of the Battle of Chickamauga (which includes how Doctor Benedict and he stayed behind with the wounded as the other medical personnel “skedaddled”), Solon tells of his harrowing experiences as a prisoner of war, to include his time at Andersonville. After the war, he assisted Clara Barton in her work to identify the dead at that notorious prison camp. The book was published in 1900 by McClure, Phillips & Company. That version is now available online at Google Books. In 1996, Solon’s great-grandson Neil Thompson republished the book. It is available on Amazon. As an account of what Union prisoners of war experienced during the Civil War, this book cannot be beat. I highly recommend it.

Muskets and Medicine[2] Harriet did not include this gruesome passage that proceeds her quote from Muskets and Medicine :  “. . . Captain William Colby . . . was in a comatose state from a bullet that had penetrated his brain through the upper portion of the occipital bone. The first thing our surgeon did was to run his index finger its full length into the wound; and this without even ordinary washing.”

Like Solon Hyde, Charles Johnson was a Hospital Steward during the Civil War, serving in the 130th Illinois Volunteers. After the war, he became a medical doctor, and in 1917 published Muskets and Medicine, an account of his experiences in the war. As with Solon’s Captive of War, it is available online at Google Books. This is a highly readable account of daily life in the Civil War, with a great account of medical practices of the day (pages 123-134). I also recommend it for anyone looking for personal accounts of the war.

 

Chickamauga Hospital Locations

[3] The Cloud House Hospital was located at the far left flank of the Union lines. I found online at “Medical Support at the Battle of Chickamauga,” Chapter 5 of a thesis by someone named Rubenstein (if you know anything about this thesis, please let me know in the comments). A sketch on page 76 (at left) shows the location of Cloud House (top center), and descriptions of the fate of the hospital are on pages 77 and 84-85. An endnote on pages 93-94 also provide a discussion of varying accounts by participants. For those interested in the Battle of Chickamauga, the endnotes provide good sources for further research.

#

 

harriott-wickham-1915-20-2About the Author: Harriott Benedict Wickham Barton   (1890-1981) was born in Norwalk, Ohio to Frank and Agnes Wickham. Her father was the youngest of twelve children of Frederick and Lucy Wickham, early settlers of the Firelands, and her mother was the great-great granddaughter of Platt and Sarah Benedict, who founded the city of Norwalk. Educated at Norwalk High School and Wooster College, she became a teacher. She marched as a suffragette and worked for the Labor Department during World War I. After the war, she went west to teach school, and became one of the last homesteaders, proving up a property near Wheatland, Wyoming. She married Angus Barton in 1924 and they raised four children on the homestead through the Dust Bowl and World War II. In the late 1940s, she and her Angus moved to Ohio, where they spent the rest of their lives. During the 1950s and ‘60s, she wrote “Little Doctor on the Black Horse,” poetry, and short stories, some which were published in various journals and magazines.

Next: Chickamauga II – Nathan Bedford Forrest Comes to Breakfast.

.

Thanks for visiting! Share and like this post below, and on Facebook. Let me know what you think in the comments. I’d love to hear from you!

Hear the Chants Sung Once More

David DeForest BenedictI wrote this article about my great-great grandfather the summer of 2003, while I was living near Charleston, South Carolina. David Benedict was a Union surgeon during the Civil War. Captured at Chickamauga, he was held prisoner at Libby Prison for a few months before being exchanged. He returned to the army before the Battle of Atlanta, then, after the fall of that city, participated in Sherman’s March to the Sea.

Years ago, my grandmother, Harriott Benedict Wickham (member of the Norwalk High School Class of 1907), wrote Little Doctor on the Black Horse, a short history about David Benedict based on her memories of him, and letters he had sent to his wife during the war. One letter that she included in her memoir, describes an excursion David Benedict made to Savannah, Christmas Day 1864.

Over fifteen years ago, I visited Savannah to retrace his steps, and wrote this article to describe my day, reliving history.

#.

Hear the Chants Sung Once More

by David Barton

.

I thought I would go to church today and hear the chants sung once more. After breakfast and fixing up some, the chaplain and I started on foot for the city, 5 mile. We took what was once the R.R. track, as it was better walking.

With these words, David Benedict begins a description in a letter to his wife of his visit to Savannah, Christmas Day, 1864. Because I lived in nearby Charleston, one day I decided to visit Savannah and see if I could find the landmarks my ancestor described on Christmas Day, almost one hundred and thirty-nine years ago. I didn’t go on foot, of course, but did do some ‘fixing up’, putting on a suit and tie.

I wanted to go to St. Paul’s on Madison Square, but could find no one to direct me. Then I saw one that looked like an Episcopal Church but it was not open. Then someone came along, and I found it was the right place, would open soon and the sexton would give me a seat.

St. Johns ChurchI found an Episcopal Church on Madison Square, but it is called Saint John’s, not Saint Paul’s. Perhaps David Benedict got it wrong, or maybe it was a typographical error when the letter was initially copied.

In any event, I believe it is the church he visited. Next door stands the Green-Meldrim House, which is open for tours. General Sherman made this house his headquarters during his stay in Savannah, although I understand he did not move in until after Christmas Day. A tour guide in the house told me there was only one other Episcopal Church in Savannah during the Civil War, Christ Church. But when I told her that David Benedict described the church he attended services in as being Gothic, she said it must be Saint John’s. I went by Christ Church later, and I agree with her. The facade of Christ Church is Greek Revival style, not Gothic like Saint John’s.

It is a nicely furnished church, in Gothic style, inside and out.

Saint John’s is a nicely furnished church, and then church altarsome, with a wonderfully, intricate panel of Christ behind the altar.

The stained-glass windows are nice, although from the date on one, they apparently were not there in 1864 – at least not all of them.

There are great beams in the ceiling and the floors and pews are made of beautiful wood, stained a dark brown. All in all it is, in my judgment, more than simply ‘nicely furnished’.

A good organ and well played. Their singing was tolerable.

The organ was very good. I don’t know if it is the original, but it is large, taking up all of a good-sized gallery above the front entryway. I was impressed with the singing by the present-day congregation as much as David Benedict was of the singing of the congregation when he visited.

One lady tried to overdo herself, I suppose because the church was crowded with Yankee officers. Many citizens were present, both men and women, but not a pretty one amongst them. Perhaps the pretty ones would not condescend to show their graces to this mob of “Lincoln Hirelings” or “Mudsills”. Most of them were dressed in black.

The average age of the present-day congregation is also not young, but the demographics are different than they were in 1864. There were several African American couples present, which I doubt was the case during the Civil War. I didn’t see many ‘pretty ones’. Everyone I spoke to was very friendly. I tried to imagine the scene Christmas Day, 1864. Bearded Union officers and men dressed in uniforms stained from days of marching and battle, sitting among citizens dressed in black. That must have been a stressful service.

The chants were good, the reading of the service good, but he left out the prayer for the president, prayed to it, and around it. I had a nice prayer book, and in the margin I wrote: “This prayer was omitted Dec. 25, 1864”. The preacher was very good.

The chants. I wondered what they were. The service I attended was Morning Prayer, and most of it was sung in a chant. There is more kneeling and bowing in the Episcopal Morning Prayer than in the Roman Catholic Mass. And Morning Prayer doesn’t even include the Eucharist. They have a communion service at noon, but I didn’t stay for that. After the service, a woman told me that St. John’s still uses the old Common Prayer Book. So the service I participated in was what David Benedict would have been familiar with.

The prayer for the president was not omitted from the service I attended. Of course, I did not write anything in the prayer book.

The Episcopal service reminds me of the Methodist Church, which I grew up in. John Wesley’s Church of England background is much in evidence in Methodism. An interesting side note, in 1836, John Wesley was pastor of Christ Church, the Episcopal Church I mentioned above. This was before he left the Anglican Communion and established the Methodist Church.

The preacher the day I visited the church was also good. He is The Reverend Gavin Dunbar, who is the vicar of the parish. He spoke clearly and persuasively – and long. I’m afraid I can’t remember all that he said.

After church I went to the Pulaski Monument, where I met the chaplain. The inscription reads: ‘Pulaski, the Heroic Pole, who fell, mortally wounded, while fighting for American Liberty, 9th Oct. 1779.’

Pulaski monumentPulaski Monument is not in Pulaski Square, that would make too much sense. It is in Monterey Square, which is an equal distance south of the church. It is an imposing monument: a tall, white obelisk, with a statue of a woman on top. The inscription is on the opposite side from Madison Square and reads just as David Benedict reported. I tried to picture him standing in front of it, carefully copying it down so he could enter it correctly in his letter to his wife.

The square would have been different one hundred thirty years ago, when David Benedict stood there. It was winter then, so the weather was much different than the stifling humidity I experienced. Also, the ravages and privations of war would have stripped the area of the many trees that now grace this pretty square.

After lunch, I drove back to Charleston, happy I had made the trip to Savannah. By retracing the steps of my ancestor and worshiping in the same church he had, I felt a connection to him and his time.

 

Thanks for visiting! Share and like this post below, and on Facebook. Let me know what you think in the comments. I’d love to hear from you!

 

%d bloggers like this: