Hospital Sketches

Content Warning: The section of the guide includes discussion of illness and death.

The author’s fondness for nighttime results in her being promoted to night nurse.

Believing in the healthful benefits of laughter, she quickly brings the spirit of her “merry, social, New England town” (31) to her formerly gloomy charges. Their faces “lighting up, with smiles of welcome” (31) fill her with pride and affection. Evening activities include reading aloud, letter-writing, attending to the men’s needs, accompanying Dr. P on his second daily rounds, and settling them in for the night. After 9 o’clock, when the day nurses complete their tasks, the author’s “nocturnal adventure” (31) begins.

The author divides her ward into three rooms, which she describes as her “duty room,” “pleasure room,” and “pathetic room” (31), according to the severity of the patients’ needs. Two men who work the evening hours alongside her are Dan, the watchman, and the pathetic room’s faithful attendant, who brews a very strong coffee and tends to men weakened by fever.

The author spends half her daylight hours asleep, the other half exploring Washington. She finds her experiences caring for the soldiers amusing, instructive, and interesting. She makes a study of snores, ultimately concluding that she can recognize her patients by their unique snores. She wishes she knew how to sketch so that she could capture her patients’ faces in sleep. Some become stern and grim, others sad and pained. Others talk in their sleep. Teddy, a 12-year-old drummer boy, sings in his sleep, though he refuses to sing when awake. Even at nighttime, the halls are a hive of activity, with surgeons, men, and guards working through the night.

One night she records begins “with a little comedy” and ends “with a great tragedy” (34). While at the bedside of a young boy from New Jersey, injured more in mind than in body, she notices a one-legged soldier from Pennsylvania hopping through the room. When he was awake, his wound made any movement terribly painful, but now he claims to be on his way home, dressed in bedclothes but with his cap on his head. He discourses politely on a wide range of subjects. Her entreaties to him to return to his bed have no effect, so she goes to Dan, but he is in a whisky-induced sleep. A Prussian patient appears, who authoritatively bustles the soldier from Pennsylvania back to his bed.

The author and the Prussian share a laugh together until they hear sobbing coming from Teddy’s bed. He explains that he dreamed that “Kit was here” (36) but woke up to realize he was not. Despite being gravely injured himself, Kit had carried Teddy, wrapped in Kit’s own blanket, out of danger and brought him to the hospital. Teddy was ill with fever for 10 days, convinced that Kit had sacrificed his own life to help Teddy. He is inconsolable that he was unable to thank him before he died. The author believes that Kit had already been mortally wounded, but no amount of convincing relieves Teddy of his grief and guilt that Kit sacrificed the strength he needed to battle his own wound to save the boy.

While she is tending Teddy, she receives a message that her patient called John is near death. He had arrived later than the others wounded at Fredericksburg. According to Ned, another patient, John had willingly stayed behind to allow others seemingly more gravely wounded to be transported first. Ned continually praised John for “his courage, sobriety, self-denial, and unfailing kindliness of heart” (38). The author had been eager to meet him and was struck by his tranquility, thoughtfulness, compassion, and sweet smile.

The author recalls her past experiences with John. She was surprised and devastated to learn from Dr. P. that John was probably suffering the most out of all the patients, and would not recover from his injuries. A bullet had broken one of his ribs and pierced his lung, making every breath painful. To make matters worse, because of his lung injury, he had to lie on his back, which was also severely wounded, leaving him in constant pain. John’s death would be long and difficult because of his “great vitality” (39). Dr. P. asked the author to inform John of his fate, but she privately hoped it would not be necessary.

Shortly after, however, she saw a surgeon dressing his wounded back and reproached herself for neglecting him, for not only did he look “lonely and forsaken” but also “great tears” (40) were rolling down his face. She went to him immediately, taking his head in her arms and asking him to let her help him “bear it” (40). His face underwent an immediate transformation, and he thanked her profusely for providing exactly what he needed. When she asked him why he did not voice his need, he said that he did not want to trouble her and could manage on his own. She realized that she had been giving her attention to those who complained the loudest, not necessarily those who needed her most. She told John that he did not need to manage alone and remained by his side as his wounds were dressed. She then bathed his face, brushed his hair, and gave him flowers.

After that experience, she devoted an hour of every evening to making him comfortable. Although it was difficult for him to speak, she learned some of his story, which increased her “affection and respect” (41) for him. At 30 years old, he remained unmarried to devote himself to his widowed mother and younger siblings. He enlisted because he “wanted the right thing done” (41), though he put off doing so until his mother gave her blessing. He said he did not regret his decision to serve. He then asked Alcott if his first battle would also be his last. Alcott told him the truth, which he accepted with his characteristic calm. Alcott asked if she could write to his mother for him, but he asked instead that she write to his brother, who would know how to break the news to her, and he added a line to his mother himself.

Now, John’s final moments have arrived, and Alcott goes to him. Seeing her, John stretches out his arms, saying that he knew she would come. His suffering is intense, with John eliciting gasps of pain, but his eyes remain serene. The other patients watch him with “awe and pity” (43), for everyone loves him. Ned comes to him and promises to fulfill John’s final request that Ned bring his things home and tell his family that he did his best. He begs for air, and Dan opens a window. The sun is about to rise, and it seems to bring John hope. He holds Alcott’s hand until the end.

After he passes, a letter arrives for him from home, which he had been eagerly anticipating. Alcott cuts several locks of his hair for his mother and leaves the letter with him, grateful to have known such an earnest man.