Complete Prose Works: Specimen Days and Collect, November Boughs and Goodbye My FancyWhitman, Walt
History
Complete Prose Works: Specimen Days and Collect, November Boughs and Goodbye My Fancy
Whitman, Walt
American literature
_Feb. 23, '65_.--I saw a large procession of young men from the rebel
army, (deserters they are call'd, but the usual meaning of the word does
not apply to them,) passing the Avenue to-day. There were nearly 200,
come up yesterday by boat from James river. I stood and watch'd them
as they shuffled along, in a slow, tired, worn sort of way; a large
proportion of light-hair'd, blonde, light gray-eyed young men among
them. Their costumes had a dirt-stain'd uniformity; most had been
originally gray; some had articles of our uniform, pants on one, vest
or coat on another; I think they were mostly Georgia and North Carolina
boys. They excited little or no attention. As I stood quite close to
them, several good looking enough youths, (but O what a tale of misery
their appearance told,) nodded or just spoke to me, without doubt
divining pity and fatherliness out of my face, for my heart was full
enough of it. Several of the couples trudg'd along with their arms about
each other, some probably brothers, as if they were afraid they might
somehow get separated. They nearly all look'd what one might call
simple, yet intelligent, too. Some had pieces of old carpet, some
blankets, and others old bags around their shoulders. Some of them here
and there had fine faces, still it was a procession of misery. The two
hundred had with them about half a dozen arm'd guards. Along this week
I saw some such procession, more or less in numbers, every day, as they
were brought up by the boat. The government does what it can for them,
and sends them north and west.
_Feb. 27_.--Some three or four hundred more escapees from the
confederate army came up on the boat. As the day has been very pleasant
indeed, (after a long spell of bad weather,) I have been wandering
around a good deal, without any other object than to be out-doors and
enjoy it; have met these escaped men in all directions. Their apparel is
the same ragged, long-worn motley as before described. I talk'd with a
number of the men. Some are quite bright and stylish, for all their poor
clothes--walking with an air, wearing their old head-coverings on one
side, quite saucily. I find the old, unquestionable proofs, as all
along the past four years, of the unscrupulous tyranny exercised by the
secession government in conscripting the common people by absolute force
everywhere, and paying no attention whatever to the men's time being
up--keeping them in military service just the same. One gigantic young
fellow, a Georgian, at least six feet three inches high, broad-sized in
proportion, attired in the dirtiest, drab, well smear'd rags, tied
with strings, his trousers at the knees all strips and streamers, was
complacently standing eating some bread and meat. He appear'd contented
enough. Then a few minutes after I saw him slowly walking along. It was
plain he did not take anything to heart.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account