Miss Helen Louise Gilson is a native of Boston, but removed in childhood to Chelsea, Massachusetts, where she now resides. She is a niece of Hon. Frank B. Fay, former Mayor of Chelsea, and was his ward. Mr. Fay, from the commencement of the war took the most active interest in the National cause, devoting his time, his wealth and his personal efforts to the welfare of the soldiers. In the autumn of 1861 he went in person to the seat of war, and from that time forward, in every battle in which the Army of the Potomac was engaged, he was promptly upon the field with his stores and appliances of healing, and moved gently though rapidly among the dead and wounded, soothing helpless, suffering and bleeding men parched with fever, crazed with thirst, or lying neglected in the last agonies of death. After two years of this independent work performed when as yet the Sanitary Commission had no field agencies, and did not attempt to minister to the suffering and wounded until they had come under the hands of the surgeons, Mr. Fay laid before the Sanitary Commission, in the winter of 1863-4, his plans for an Auxiliary Relief Corps, to afford personal relief in the field, to the wounded soldier, and render him such assistance, as should enable him to bear with less injury the delay which must ensue before he could come under the surgeon's care or be transferred to a hospital, and in cases of the slighter wounds furnish the necessary dressings and attention. The Sanitary Commission at once adopted these plans and made Mr. Fay chief of the Auxiliary Relief Corps. In this capacity he performed an amount of labor of which few men were capable, till December, 1864, when he retired from it but continued his independent work till the close of the war. During his visits at home he was active in organizing and directing measures for raising supplies and money for the Sanitary Commission and the independent measures of relief.

Influenced by such an example of lofty and self-sacrificing patriotism, and with her own young heart on fire with love for her country, Miss Gilson from the very commencement of the war, gave herself to the work of caring for the soldiers, first at home, and afterward in the field. In that glorious uprising of American women, all over the North, in the spring of 1861, to organize Soldiers' Aid Societies she was active and among the foremost in her own city. She had helped to prepare and collect supplies, and to arrange them for transportation. She had also obtained a contract for the manufacture of army clothing, from the Government, by means of which she provided employment for soldiers' wives and daughters, raising among the benevolent and patriotic people of Chelsea and vicinity, a fund which enabled her to pay a far more liberal sum than the contractors' prices, for this labor.

When Mr. Fay commenced his personal services with the Army of the Potomac, Miss Gilson, wishing to accompany him, applied to Miss D. L. Dix, Government Superintendent of Female Nurses, for a diploma, but as she had not reached the required age she was rejected. This, however, did not prevent her from fulfilling her ardent desire of ministering to the sick and wounded, but served in a measure to limit her to services upon the field, where she could act in concert with Mr. Fay, or otherwise under the direction of the Sanitary Commission.

During nearly the whole term of Miss Gilson's service she was in company with Mr. Fay and his assistants. The party had their own tent, forming a household, and carrying with them something of home-life.

In this manner she, with her associates, followed the Army of the Potomac, through its various vicissitudes, and was present at, or near, almost every one of its great battles except the first battle of Bull Run.

In the summer of 1862 Miss Gilson was for some time attached to the Hospital Transport service, and was on board the Knickerbocker when up the Pamunky River at White House, and afterward at Harrison's Landing during the severe battles which marked McClellan's movement from the Chickahominy to the James River. Amidst the terrible scenes of those eventful days, the quiet energy, the wonderful comforting and soothing power, and the perfect adaptability of Miss Gilson to her work were conspicuous.

Whatever she did was done well, and so noiselessly that only the results were seen. When not more actively employed she would sit by the bed-sides of the suffering men, and charm away their pain by the magnetism of her low, calm voice, and soothing words. She sang for them, and, kneeling beside them, where they lay amidst all the agonizing sights and sounds of the hospital wards, and even upon the field of carnage, her voice would ascend in petition, for peace, for relief, for sustaining grace in the brief journey to the other world, carrying with it their souls into the realms of an exalted faith.

As may be supposed, Miss Gilson exerted a remarkable personal influence over the wounded soldiers as well as all those with whom she was brought in contact. She always shrank from notoriety, and strongly deprecated any publicity in regard to her work; but the thousands who witnessed her extraordinary activity, her remarkable executive power, her ability in evoking order out of chaos, and providing for thousands of sick and wounded men where most persons would have been completely overwhelmed in the care of scores or hundreds, could not always be prevented from speaking of her in the public prints. The uniform cheerfulness and buoyancy of spirit with which all her work was performed, added greatly to its efficiency in removing the depressing influences, so common in the hospitals and among the wounded.

From some of the reports of agents of the Sanitary Commission we select the following passages referring to her, as expressing in more moderate language than some others, the sentiments in regard to her work entertained by all who were brought into contact with her.

"Upon Miss Gilson's services, we scarcely dare trust ourselves to comment. Upon her experience we relied for counsel, and it was chiefly due to her advice and efforts, that the work in our hospital went on so successfully. Always quiet, self-possessed, and prompt in the discharge of duty, she accomplished more than any one else could for the relief of the wounded, besides being a constant example and embodiment of earnestness for all. Her ministrations were always grateful to the wounded men, who devotedly loved her for her self-sacrificing spirit. Said one of the Fifth New Jersey in our hearing, 'There isn't a man in our regiment who wouldn't lay down his life for Miss Gilson.'

"We have seen the dying man lean his head upon her shoulder, while she breathed into his ear the soothing prayer that calmed, cheered and prepared him for his journey through the dark valley.

"Under the direction of Miss Gilson, the special diet was prepared, and we cannot strongly enough express our sense of the invaluable service she rendered in this department. The food was always eagerly expected and relished by the men, with many expressions of praise."

After the battle of Gettysburg Mr. Fay and his party went thither on their mission of help and mercy. And never was such a mission more needed. Crowded within the limits, and in the immediate vicinity, of that small country-town, were twenty-five thousand wounded men, thirteen thousand seven hundred and thirteen of our own, and nearly twelve thousand wounded rebel prisoners. The Government in anticipation of the battle had provided medical and surgical supplies and attendance for about ten thousand. Had not the Sanitary Commission supplemented this supply, and sent efficient agents to the field, the loss of life, and the amount of suffering, terrible as they were with the best appliances, must have been almost incredibly great.

Here as elsewhere Miss Gilson soon made a favorable impression on the wounded men. They looked up to her, reverenced and almost worshipped her. She had their entire confidence and respect. Even the roughest of them yielded to her influence and obeyed her wishes, which were always made known in a gentle manner and in a voice peculiarly low and sweet.

It has been recorded by one who knew her well, that she once stepped out of her tent, before which a group of brutal men were fiercely quarrelling, having refused, with oaths and vile language, to carry a sick comrade to the hospital at the request of one of the male agents of the Commission, and quietly advancing to their midst, renewed the request as her own. Immediately every angry tone was stilled. Their voices were lowered, and modulated respectfully. Their oaths ceased, and quietly and cheerfully, without a word of objection, they lifted their helpless burden, and tenderly carried him away.

At the same time she was as efficient in action as in influence. Without bustle, and with unmoved calmness, she would superintend the preparation of food for a thousand men, and assist in feeding them herself. Just so she moved amidst the flying bullets upon the field, bringing succor to the wounded; or through the hospitals amidst the pestilent air of the fever-stricken wards. Self-controlled, she could control others, and order and symmetry sprung up before her as a natural result of the operation of a well-balanced mind.

In all her journeys Miss Gilson made use of the opportunities afforded her wherever she stopped to plead the cause of the soldier to the people, who readily assembled at her suggestion. She thus stimulated energies that might otherwise have flagged, and helped to swell the supplies continually pouring in to the depots of the Sanitary Commission. But Miss Gilson's crowning work was performed during that last protracted campaign of General Grant from the Rapidan to Petersburg and the Appomattox, a campaign which by almost a year of constant fighting finished the most terrible and destructive war of modern times. She had taken the field with Mr. Fay at the very commencement of the campaign, and had been indefatigable in her efforts to relieve what she could of the fearful suffering of those destructive battles of May, 1864, in which the dead and wounded were numbered by scores of thousands. To how many poor sufferers she brought relief from the raging thirst and the racking agony of their wounds, to how many aching hearts her words of cheer and her sweet songs bore comfort and hope, to how many of those on whose countenances the Angel of death had already set his seal, she whispered of a dying and risen Saviour, and of the mansions prepared for them that love him, will never be known till the judgment of the great day; but this we know, that thousands now living speak with an almost rapturous enthusiasm, of "the little lady who in their hours of agony, ministered to them with such sweetness, and never seemed to weary of serving them."

A young physician in the service of the Sanitary Commission, Dr. William Howell Reed, who was afterwards for many months associated with her and Mr. Fay in their labors of auxiliary relief, thus describes his first opportunity of observing her work. It was at Fredericksburg in May, 1864, when that town was for a time the base of the Army of the Potomac, and the place to which the wounded were brought for treatment before being sent to the hospitals at Washington and Baltimore. The building used as a hospital, and which she visited was the mansion of John L. Marie, a large building, but much of it in ruins from the previous bombardment of the city. It was crowded with wounded in every part. Dr. Reed says:—

"One afternoon, just before the evacuation, when the atmosphere of our rooms was close and foul, and all were longing for a breath of our cooler northern air, while the men were moaning in pain, or were restless with fever, and our hearts were sick with pity for the sufferers, I heard a light step upon the stairs; and looking up I saw a young lady enter, who brought with her such an atmosphere of calm and cheerful courage, so much freshness, such an expression of gentle, womanly sympathy, that her mere presence seemed to revive the drooping spirits of the men, and to give a new power of endurance through the long and painful hours of suffering. First with one, then at the side of another, a friendly word here, a gentle nod and smile there, a tender sympathy with each prostrate sufferer, a sympathy which could read in his eyes his longing for home love, and for the presence of some absent one—in those few minutes hers was indeed an angel ministry. Before she left the room she sang to them, first some stirring national melody, then some sweet or plaintive hymn to strengthen the fainting heart; and I remember how the notes penetrated to every part of the building. Soldiers with less severe wounds, from the rooms above, began to crawl out into the entries, and men from below crept up on their hands and knees, to catch every note, and to receive of the benediction of her presence—for such it was to them. Then she went away. I did not know who she was, but I was as much moved and melted as any soldier of them all. This is my first reminiscence of Helen L. Gilson."

Thus far Miss Gilson's cares and labors had been bestowed almost exclusively on the white soldiers; but the time approached when she was to devote herself to the work of creating a model hospital for the colored soldiers who now formed a considerable body of troops in the Army of the Potomac. She was deeply interested in the struggle of the African race upward into the new life which seemed opening for them, and her efforts for the mental and moral elevation of the freedmen and their families were eminently deserving of record.

Dr. Reed relates how, as they were passing down the Rappahannock and up the York and Pamunky rivers to the new temporary base of the army at Port Royal, they found a government barge which had been appropriated to the use of the "contrabands," of whom about a thousand were stowed away upon it, of all ages and both sexes, all escaped from their former masters in that part of Virginia. The hospital party heard them singing the negroes' evening hymn, and taking a boat from the steamer rowed to the barge, and after a little conversation persuaded them to renew their song, which was delivered with all the fervor, emotion and abandon of the negro character.

When their song had ceased, Miss Gilson addressed them. She pictured the reality of freedom, told them what it meant and what they would have to do, no longer would there be a master to deal out the peck of corn, no longer a mistress to care for the old people or the children. They were to work for themselves, provide for their own sick, and support their own infirm; but all this was to be done under new conditions. No overseer was to stand over them with the whip, for their new master was the necessity of earning their daily bread. Very soon new and higher motives would come; fresh encouragements, a nobler ambition, would grow into their new condition. Then in the simplest language she explained the difference between their former relations with the then master and their new relations with the northern people, showing that labor here was voluntary, and that they could only expect to secure kind employers by faithfully doing all they had to do. Then, enforcing truthfulness, neatness, and economy, she said,—

"You know that the Lord Jesus died and rose again for you. You love to sing his praise and to draw near to him in prayer. But remember that this is not all of religion. You must do right as well as pray right. Your lives must be full of kind deeds towards each other, full of gentle and loving affections, full of unselfishness and truth: this is true piety. You must make Monday and Tuesday just as good and pure as Sunday is, remembering that God looks not only at your prayers and your emotions, but at the way you live, and speak, and act, every hour of your lives."

Then she sang Whittier's exquisite hymn:—

Here were a thousand people breathing their first free air. They were new born with this delicious sense of freedom. They listened with moistened eyes to every word which concerned their future, and felt that its utterance came from a heart which could embrace them all in its sympathies. Life was to them a jubilee only so far as they could make it so by a consciousness of duty faithfully done. They had hard work before them, much privation, many struggles. They had everything to learn—the new industries of the North, their changed social condition, and how to accept their new responsibilities.

As she spoke the circle grew larger, and they pressed round her more eagerly. It was all a part of their new life. They welcomed it; and, by every possible expression of gratitude to her, they showed how desirous they were to learn. Those who were present can never forget the scene—a thousand dusky faces, expressive of such fervency and enthusiasm, their large eyes filled with tears, answering to the throbbing heart below, all dimly outlined by the flickering rays of a single lamp. And when it was over, we felt that we could understand our relations to them, and the new duties which this great hour had brought upon us.

It was not till the sanguinary battles of the 15th, 16th, 17th, and 18th of June, 1864, that there had been any considerable number of the colored troops of the Army of the Potomac wounded. In those engagements however, as well as in the subsequent ones of the explosion of the mine, and the actions immediately around Petersburg, they suffered terribly. The wounded were brought rapidly to City Point, where a temporary hospital had been provided. We give a description of this hospital in the words of Dr. Reed, who was associated subsequently with Miss Gilson in its management.

"It was, in no other sense a hospital, than that it was a depot for wounded men. There were defective management and chaotic confusion. The men were neglected, the hospital organization was imperfect, and the mortality was in consequence frightfully large. Their condition was horrible. The severity of the campaign in a malarious country had prostrated many with fevers, and typhoid, in its most malignant forms, was raging with increasing fatality.

"These stories of suffering reached Miss Gilson at a moment when the previous labors of the campaign had nearly exhausted her strength; but her duty seemed plain. There were no volunteers for the emergency, and she prepared to go. Her friends declared that she could not survive it; but replying that she could not die in a cause more sacred, she started out alone. A hospital was to be created, and this required all the tact, finesse and diplomacy of which a woman is capable. Official prejudice and professional pride was to be met and overcome. A new policy was to be introduced, and it was to be done without seeming to interfere. Her doctrine and practice always were instant, silent, and cheerful obedience to medical and disciplinary orders, without any qualification whatever; and by this she overcame the natural sensitiveness of the medical authorities.

"A hospital kitchen was to be organized upon her method of special diet; nurses were to learn her way, and be educated to their duties; while cleanliness, order, system, were to be enforced in the daily routine. Moving quietly on with her work of renovation, she took the responsibility of all changes that became necessary; and such harmony prevailed in the camp that her policy was vindicated as time rolled on. The rate of mortality was lessened, and the hospital was soon considered the best in the department. This was accomplished by a tact and energy which sought no praise, but modestly veiled themselves behind the orders of officials. The management of her kitchen was like the ticking of a clock—regular discipline, gentle firmness, and sweet temper always. The diet for the men was changed three times a day; and it was her aim to cater as far as possible to the appetites of individual men. Her daily rounds in the wards brought her into personal intercourse with every patient, and she knew his special need. At one time, when nine hundred men were supplied from her kitchen (with seven hundred rations daily), I took down her diet list for one dinner, and give it here in a note,[D] to show the variety of the articles, and her careful consideration of the condition of separate men."

The following passage from the pen of Harriet Martineau, in regard to the management of the kitchen at Scutari, by Florence Nightingale, is true also of those organized by Miss Gilson in Virginia. The parallel is so close, and the illustration of the daily administration of this department of her work so vivid, that, if the circumstances under which it was written were not known, I should have said it was a faithful picture of our kitchen in the Colored Hospital at City Point:—

"The very idea of that kitchen was savory in the wards; for out of it came, at the right moment, arrowroot, hot and of the pleasantest consistence; rice puddings, neither hard on the one hand or clammy on the other; cool lemonade for the feverish; cans full of hot tea for the weary, and good coffee for the faint. When the sinking sufferer was lying with closed eyes, too feeble to make moan or sigh, the hospital spoon was put between his lips, with the mouthful of strong broth or hot wine, which rallied him till the watchful nurse came round again. The meat from that kitchen was tenderer than any other, the beef tea was more savory. One thing that came out of it was the lesson on the saving of good cookery. The mere circumstance of the boiling water being really boiling there, made a difference of two ounces of rice in every four puddings, and of more than half the arrowroot used. The same quantity of arrowroot which made a pint thin and poor in the general kitchen, made two pints thick and good in Miss Nightingale's.

"Again, in contrasting the general kitchen with the light or special diet prepared for the sicker men, there was all the difference between having placed before them 'the cold mutton chop with its opaque fat, the beef with its caked gravy, the arrowroot stiff and glazed, all untouched, as might be seen by the bed-sides in the afternoons, while the patients were lying back, sinking for want of support,' and seeing 'the quick and quiet nurses enter as the clock struck, with their hot water tins, hot morsels ready cut, bright knife, and fork, and spoon,—and all ready for instant eating!'

"The nurses looked for Miss Gilson's word of praise, and labored for it; and she had only to suggest a variety in the decoration of the tents to stimulate a most honorable rivalry among them, which soon opened a wide field for displaying ingenuity and taste, so that not only was its standard the highest, but it was the most cheerfully picturesque hospital at City Point.

"This colored hospital service was one of those extraordinary tasks, out of the ordinary course of army hospital discipline, that none but a woman could execute. It required more than a man's power of endurance, for men fainted and fell under the burden. It required a woman's discernment, a woman's tenderness, a woman's delicacy and tact; it required such nerve and moral force, and such executive power, as are rarely united in any woman's character. The simple grace with which she moved about the hospital camps, the gentle dignity with which she ministered to the suffering about her, won all hearts. As she passed through the wards, the men would follow her with their eyes, attracted by the grave sweetness of her manner; and when she stopped by some bed-side, and laid her hand upon the forehead and smoothed the hair of a soldier, speaking some cheering, pleasant word, I have seen the tears gather in his eyes, and his lips quiver, as he tried to speak or to touch the fold of her dress, as if appealing to her to listen, while he opened his heart about the mother, wife, or sister far away. I have seen her in her sober gray flannel gown, sitting motionless by the dim candle-light,—which was all our camp could afford,—with her eyes open and watchful, and her hands ever ready for all those endless wants of sickness at night, especially sickness that may be tended unto death, or unto the awful struggle between life and death, which it was the lot of nearly all of us at some time to keep watch over until the danger had gone by. And in sadder trials, when the life of a soldier whom she had watched and ministered to was trembling in the balance between earth and heaven, waiting for Him to make all things new, she has seemed, by some special grace of the Spirit, to reach the living Christ, and draw a blessing down as the shining way was opened to the tomb. And I have seen such looks of gratitude from weary eyes, now brightened by visions of heavenly glory, the last of many recognitions of her ministry. Absorbed in her work, unconscious of the spiritual beauty which invested her daily life,—whether in her kitchen, in the heat and overcrowding incident to the issues of a large special diet list, or sitting at the cot of some poor lonely soldier, whispering of the higher realities of another world,—she was always the same presence of grace and love, of peace and benediction. I have been with her in the wards when the men have craved some simple religious services,—the reading of Scripture, the repetition of a psalm, the singing of a hymn, or the offering of a prayer,—and invariably the men were melted to tears by the touching simplicity of her eloquence.

"These were the tokens of her ministry among the sickest men; but it was not here alone that her influence was felt in the hospital. Was there jealousy in the kitchen, her quick penetration detected the cause, and in her gentle way harmony was restored; was there profanity among the convalescents, her daily presence and kindly admonition or reproof, with an occasional glance which spoke her sorrow for such sin, were enough to check the evil; or was there hardship or discontent, the knowledge that she was sharing the discomfort too, was enough to compel patient endurance until a remedy could be provided. And so, through all the war, from the seven days' conflict upon the Peninsula, in those early July days of 1862, through the campaigns of Antietam and Fredericksburg, of Chancellorsville and Gettysburg, and after the conflicts of the Wilderness, and the fierce and undecided battles which were fought for the possession of Richmond and Petersburg, in 1864 and 1865, she labored steadfastly on until the end. Through scorching heat and pinching cold, in the tent or upon the open field, in the ambulance or on the saddle, through rain and snow, amid unseen perils of the enemy, under fire upon the field, or in the more insidious dangers of contagion, she worked quietly on, doing her simple part with all womanly tact and skill, until now the hospital dress is laid aside, and she rests, with the sense of a noble work done, and with the blessings and prayers of the thousands whose sufferings she has relieved, or whose lives she has saved."

Amid all these labors, Miss Gilson found time and opportunity to care for the poor negro washerwomen and their families, who doing the washing of the hospital were allowed rations and a rude shelter by the government in a camp near the hospital grounds. Finding that they were suffering from overcrowding, privation, neglect, and sickness, she procured the erection of comfortable huts for them, obtained clothing from the North for the more destitute, and by example and precept encouraged them in habits of neatness and order, while she also inculcated practical godliness in all their life. In a short time from one of the most miserable this became the best of the Freedmen's camps.

As was the case with nearly every woman who entered the service at the seat of war, Miss Gilson suffered from malarious fever. As often as possible she returned to her home for a brief space, to recruit her wasted energies, and it was those brief intervals of rest which enabled her to remain at her post until several months after the surrender of Lee virtually ended the war.

She left Richmond in July, 1865, and spent the remainder of the summer in a quiet retreat upon Long Island, where she partially recovered her impaired health, and in the autumn returned to her home in Chelsea.

In person Miss Gilson is small and delicately proportioned. Without being technically beautiful, her features are lovely both in form and expression, and though now nearly thirty years of age she looks much younger than she actually is. Her voice is low and soft, and her speech gentle and deliberate. Her movements correspond in exact harmony with voice and speech. But, under the softness and gentleness of her external demeanor, one soon detects a firmness of determination, and a fixedness of will. No doubt, once determined upon the duty and propriety of any course, she will pursue it calmly and persistently to the end. It is to these qualifications, and physical and moral traits, that she owes the undoubted power and influence exercised in her late mission.