- Joined
- Aug 27, 2011
- Location
- Central Massachusetts
Major Dr. John Hill Brinton (May 21, 1832 – March 18, 1907), was an important figure in the study of military medicine. He was a leading Philadelphia surgeon both before and after the war, and would become the first curator of the Army Medical Museum (now the National Museum of Health and Medicine, an element of the Armed Forces Institute of Pathology), and was responsible for the publication of the monumental Medical and Surgical History of the War of the Rebellion. But, at the beginning of the war, he was appointed surgeon of volunteers, and assigned to Fremont’s Department of the West. His first major responsibility (in the fall of 1861) was the establishment of the Mound City Hospital (later the Mound City Naval Hospital) in Mound City, Illinois.
He encountered many difficulties in setting up the hospital.
Surgeon Brinton was not entirely opposed to women nurses, but, it seemed to him that few were really prepared for the work they had to do, particularly this early in the war.
Personal memoirs of John H. Brinton, major and surgeon U.S.V., 1861-1865 (1914)
He encountered many difficulties in setting up the hospital.
One of my chief troubles at this place was the difficulty, and, I may almost say, the impossibility, of procuring the necessary men to do the work incident to the formation of a large hospital. … I fretted a great deal more than was at all necessary, about my hospital, though it was hardly to be wondered at, considering I had only half-sick men, or the prisoners from the guard house, to do my work. Scrubbing, sweeping, putting up beds, and making beds, and that sort of thing, was, to use the western formula, "women's work," and these gawky western men insisted that they did not come into the army to do anything else but fight. It was astonishing to me how slowly these fellows did work, even with a guard behind them. In fact, they seemed only to work when my eye was upon them. Just as soon as my back was turned all exertion ceased.
But if the men were bad, the women were worse. Just at this period the craze spread among our good people that the women of the country could make themselves very useful by acting as nurses for the sick and wounded. So out they came, these patriotic women of the North. The Secretary of War, the generals commanding departments, divisions or military posts, were besieged by them. By strained construction of certain paragraphs in the army regulations, and of acts of Congress, positions, paid positions, were devised for them. They besieged all officers and persons high in authority, and these, on the general military principle of sending a disagreeable person as far away as possible, sent the fair petitioners to as far away positions as they could. And the women went, and on the arrival of certain trains would stalk into the office of district commanders, and establish themselves solemnly against the walls, entrenched behind their bags and parcels.
They defied all military law. There they were, and there they would stay, until some accommodation might be found for them. In self-defence the adjutant general would send them to the medical director, and he, gallantly or not, as might be his nature, would forward them to the surgeon in charge of hospitals. To him at last these wretched females would come. They did not wish much -- not they, "simply a room, a bed, a looking glass, someone to get their meals and do little things for them," and they would nurse the "sick boys of our gallant Union Army." "Simply a room." Can you fancy half a dozen or a dozen old hags, for that is what they were (our modern efficient trained nurses were unknown), surrounding a bewildered hospital surgeon, each one clamorous for her little wants? And rooms so scarce and looking glasses so few! And then, when you had done your best, and had often sacrificed the accommodations for the sick to their benefit, how little gratitude did one receive! Usually nothing but complaints, fault-finding as to yourself, and backbiting as to companions of their own sex. In short this female nurse business was a great trial to all the men concerned, and to me at Mound City soon became intolerable.
I determined, therefore, to try to get rid of them from the Mound City hospital. In answer to my request to the Catholic authorities of, I think, North and South Bend, Indiana, a number of sisters were sent down to act as nurses in the hospital. These sent were from a teaching and not from a nursing order, but in a short time they adapted themselves admirably to their new duties. I have forgotten the exact title of the order to which they belonged, I think they were sisters of Notre Dame. I remember their black and white dresses, and I remember also, that when I asked the Mother, who accompanied them, what accommodation they required, the answer was, "One room, Doctor," and there were in all, I think, fourteen or fifteen of them. So I procured good nurses for my sick and the whole tribe of sanitary "Mrs. Brundages" passed away. The sick patients gained by the change, but for a few days I was the most abused man in that department, for the news papers gave me no mercy.
But if the men were bad, the women were worse. Just at this period the craze spread among our good people that the women of the country could make themselves very useful by acting as nurses for the sick and wounded. So out they came, these patriotic women of the North. The Secretary of War, the generals commanding departments, divisions or military posts, were besieged by them. By strained construction of certain paragraphs in the army regulations, and of acts of Congress, positions, paid positions, were devised for them. They besieged all officers and persons high in authority, and these, on the general military principle of sending a disagreeable person as far away as possible, sent the fair petitioners to as far away positions as they could. And the women went, and on the arrival of certain trains would stalk into the office of district commanders, and establish themselves solemnly against the walls, entrenched behind their bags and parcels.
They defied all military law. There they were, and there they would stay, until some accommodation might be found for them. In self-defence the adjutant general would send them to the medical director, and he, gallantly or not, as might be his nature, would forward them to the surgeon in charge of hospitals. To him at last these wretched females would come. They did not wish much -- not they, "simply a room, a bed, a looking glass, someone to get their meals and do little things for them," and they would nurse the "sick boys of our gallant Union Army." "Simply a room." Can you fancy half a dozen or a dozen old hags, for that is what they were (our modern efficient trained nurses were unknown), surrounding a bewildered hospital surgeon, each one clamorous for her little wants? And rooms so scarce and looking glasses so few! And then, when you had done your best, and had often sacrificed the accommodations for the sick to their benefit, how little gratitude did one receive! Usually nothing but complaints, fault-finding as to yourself, and backbiting as to companions of their own sex. In short this female nurse business was a great trial to all the men concerned, and to me at Mound City soon became intolerable.
I determined, therefore, to try to get rid of them from the Mound City hospital. In answer to my request to the Catholic authorities of, I think, North and South Bend, Indiana, a number of sisters were sent down to act as nurses in the hospital. These sent were from a teaching and not from a nursing order, but in a short time they adapted themselves admirably to their new duties. I have forgotten the exact title of the order to which they belonged, I think they were sisters of Notre Dame. I remember their black and white dresses, and I remember also, that when I asked the Mother, who accompanied them, what accommodation they required, the answer was, "One room, Doctor," and there were in all, I think, fourteen or fifteen of them. So I procured good nurses for my sick and the whole tribe of sanitary "Mrs. Brundages" passed away. The sick patients gained by the change, but for a few days I was the most abused man in that department, for the news papers gave me no mercy.
Surgeon Brinton was not entirely opposed to women nurses, but, it seemed to him that few were really prepared for the work they had to do, particularly this early in the war.
Good women-nurses were a godsend; those who would really nurse and work, do what they were told, make no pets (favorites), and give no trouble. On the other hand, the fussy female, intent on notoriety and glorying in her good works, fond of washing the faces of "our boys" and of writing letters home, glorifying herself; she was not godsent; in fact we all regarded her as having a very different origin.
Personal memoirs of John H. Brinton, major and surgeon U.S.V., 1861-1865 (1914)
Last edited: