Letter from Walter Reed to Emilie B. Lawrence, July 18, 1874 |
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Brooklyn, July 18th 74.
Miss Lawrence,
Another mes-
sage has been gladly welcomed,
and again the happy privilege
of replying, as best I may, is
permitted me. I, too, have chosen
the hour of night which you so
beautifully alluded to in your
letter; but though I acknowledge
its bewitching influence, I feel
that something more than its en-
chantment would be required
to make to living expression the
sluggish thoughts of my dull
brain, If, perchance, a thought
flashes dimly and fitfully
upon the horizon of my mind, &
I begin to trace it on the paper
before me, it is instantly blighted
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by the jingling bells and noisy rattle of some street-
car that goes tearing past my window, and ere I can
return and to gather up the broken links and bind them
together, the wished-for idea has vanished forever. Nor
am I blessed with the "sighing zephyrs as they rustle
amid the branches of the old oaks" to lull me with their
plaintive moanings. Ah! what an indescribable difference
there is between night in the city and night in the country;
far greater than feeble words of mine can begin to tell.
Here the ever bustling day is crowded into the busy
night; nor can we draw the line of separation between
the two. Both are equally characterized by the increasing
roar of humanity struggling in the race of life, and
many a poor, aching heart, by day, "bowed down with
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weight of woe," seeks, at night, its humble home, but not to
cease its aching; no, never! till that last, long night that
knows no earthly waking! But, how different in the country!
An evening of quiet repose succeeds a day of well-spent,
honest labor. The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea
and leaves the world to darkness and to me-" Yes, to
nature and to me; and then how slight a step from na-
ture "up to nature's God"! This is the hour of contempla-
tion; of holy thoughts and sweet communion with self and
friends, undisturbed save by the "watch-dog's honest
bark." Surely, if happiness is ever decreed to mortals
here below, it is at such moments that we experience
it to the fullest extent- Blot them out, and life to me
would be an uninviting blank! |
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I had anticipated much pleasure in
reading the account of the commence-
ment exercises, and especially in read-
ing Miss Hope's poem. But, alas! "how
vain are all things here below"! for
the good Doctor Bennett, seated in
his easy editorial chair, for some
unaccountable reason, has neglec-
ted to send me my Advocate during
the past 3 weeks, and I must sit
ang sigh! You must pardon me if
I offer a slight correction of a
line contained in your letter. You
state, "we had an original poem by the
College Poetess, Miss Hope, whose
face so fascinated you while
you were here"! I would amend by
substituting pleased for fascina-
ted, for it was reserved for an-
other & brighter face than Miss Hope's
to fascinate me. Were you an ex-
pert at guessing, you might find
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out its owner. Modesty prevents
me from saying, but it does not
lessen the fascination one iota.
"Out of the fullness of the heart
the mouth speaketh." This is as much
as I dare say, at present, and I must
ask your indulgence for the rest [remainder] of my
letter. I pray you, bear with me while I
grow uninteresting. I have been recently
contemplating a departure from Brook-
lyn. My friends will consider me unwise
in this, perhaps, but after due atten-
tion given to the matter, I believe I
will be justified in so doing. I have
about made up my mind to make a stren-
nuous effort to enter the Medical
Corps of the U.S. Army. The Examining
Board which has not met before in six
(6) years, assemblies in New York City, Aug-
ust 4th next. I should not desire to remain
longer than 3 or 4 years, at the outside.
And now for my reasons. In the first
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place, the Board of Health are requiring more work of the inspec-
tors every day, and to such a degree that the idea of the private
practice cannot be thought of- in fact they desire that the
whole of an Inspector's time be devoted to the interest of
the Health of his District. This is doubtless right enough in
a strict interpretation, but it is such a "new departure"
that I, for one, fail to appreciate it. Secondly, these great cities
have lost the fascination which formerly held me so fast.
Four years ago, I would have remained here, "though the
Heavens should fall." I gave my hopes and ambition a
free rein and applied the whip & spir unsparingly. To
live in any other place than New York or Brooklyn, never
entered my head, and if a person had advised me to
go to some small town, I would have certified to his insanity.
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To such an extent does our folly mislead us! But since then
a few more springs have come and gone, and though no gray
hairs adorn my head, I have become a little wiser, I hope.
I have carefully noted the success or failure of those
around me and have watched them in their sorrows and joys.
Yet during this time I have been unable to discover the great
advantages of living in Metropolitan Cities, except it be in
the "wear and tear". It is true, I never worked harder, but I can't say
that it has brought me an equal amount of comfort. I have
still a third reason- Having entered my profession about
4 years earlier than is the custom, I have experienced all
the troubles of a youthful aspirant for honors. As long as
my success depended upon actual knowledge and experience,
I managed to overcome all obstacles, but the moment that I
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entered upon the race of life, I found
out, at once, the disadvantages of a youth-
ful appearance. It is a remarkable fact
that a man's success during the first de-
cade depends more upon his beard than
upon his brains. And inasmuch as I
could boast of none of the former and but
an infinitesimal quantity of the latter, I
found "Jordan to be a hard road to travel."
Yet notwithstanding these many draw-backs,
my success has been greater than I could
have expected, and unless I can obtain the
sanction of homefolks, I will not leave.
My stay in these cities has done me
an incomparable good e By it I have
obtained an extensive hospital and
sanitary experience which is worth to
me more than I can now estimate.
It has also given me a truer in-
sight into human nature than I would
have acquired in an equal number
of years elsewhere, while it has added
to my respect for truth and morality.
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So that I count myself more than
fortunate so far. On the other
hand, I had thought that, as I
have no anxiety to plunge, at once,
into the cares of life, a few years
spent in travelling from s one part
of the country to another, would be of prof-
it to me. Of course, all depends upon
my ability to pass the examination
which is a very rigid one. (I must con-
fess that I dread it.) If at the end
of that time (3 or 4 years hence) I could
find some fair damsel who was
foolish enough to trust me, I think
I would get -- married, and settle
down to sober work for the rest of
my days in some small City where
one could enjoy the advantages of
a City & at the same time not feel as
if lost. For in what does life con-
sist? what is its true philosophy?
Is it to win the applause of the
rabble? or to pit no "high places"?
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Do we not arrive nearer to true hap-
piness in striving to accept what
Divine Wisdom allots to us- doing all
we can to assist our fellow-men
in being happy, and submitting
uncomplainingly to the will of Him
who gave us breath and life?
Ever remembering that "he that hum-
bleth himself, the same shall be
exhalted". But really the hour has
grown very late, & here am I phi-
losophizing! & what a dry "hash"
(for I can find no other name to expression)
I have [I] set before you! My first
impulse is to tear it up & spare
you so many details, but on second
thought I refrain from so doing,
and beg that you will accept it
in the same spirit in which it was written. I remain, with much
respect,
Walter Reed
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