a
t gettysburg, on the afternoon of the third day of july, 1863, major henry g. dunwoody, of the 483d regiment of pennsylvania volunteers, while leading his men into action, was struck by a shell from a confederate battery. a moment later he was lying upon the ground unconscious, and beside him lay his left leg, severed from his body several inches above the knee.
when the fight was over for the day, the wounded major was placed in an ambulance and taken to the hospital. a day or two later, the fever having left him, he lay in bed feeling tolerably comfortable. his mind not unnaturally turned to consideration of his wound. he began to think how very inconvenient it would be to have to hop about on one leg during the remainder of his life, and he couldn’t help wondering where his leg was and what would be its fate. he suspected they would bury it; and the notion seemed an unpleasant one.
“i don’t like the idea of being partially interred,”253 he said; “and while i am alive, too. i am too young a man by half a century to have one foot in the grave.”
the latter suggestion struck the major as being rather a good joke. he resolved to remember it so that he could tell the surgeon.
the major could hardly persuade himself, at times, as he reflected, that he had really lost his leg. he had a corn upon a certain toe which he could distinctly feel; there were strong sensations which indicated that the leg was still there, and he could hardly resist the impulse to try to lift it in such a vigorous manner as to kick off the covering of the bed. but he knew that this was absurd. while he was thinking about it he suddenly gave a little start, and a shiver ran through his nerves. he felt as if his leg had been plunged into some intensely cold liquid, and before he had quite recovered from the shock he was conscious of a faint suggestion of alcohol. whether the perfume of the substance had actually greeted his nostrils, or the alcoholic flavor had been conveyed to his senses in some other way, he could not exactly define. he did not try very hard to solve the problem. this was only one of the many odd experiences of the first forty-eight hours, and he was too feeble to make such a vigorous mental effort as was necessary to their proper solution.
the major recovered, and was enrolled in the invalid254 corps. during the succeeding three or four years he drew his pay, lived an easy life, and devoted much of his time to experimenting upon artificial legs of various patterns. he never succeeded in finding one that suited him exactly, and in the course of time he collected quite a curious lot of wooden and cork legs, which he kept standing about in the corners of his room at his boarding-house in washington, and which were perpetually a source of nervous dread to the chambermaid, who lived in expectation that some day they would fly out at her and kick her downstairs.
one day the major, while strolling along the street, passed the door of the army medical museum, an institution into which has been gathered by the government a very large number of medical and surgical curiosities taken from the various battle-fields of the rebellion. it is the most horribly interesting place in the city of washington—that is, to the ordinary lay observer. the surgeons and doctors, of course, regard its trophies with gleeful enthusiasm. to others it serves perhaps a good purpose in suggesting some distinct notion of the fearful suffering which was the price paid for the salvation of the government, and it may perform a useful office in the future by indicating to persons who are burning with a desire for war and glory, that glory is one of the least obvious fruits of murderous strife.
255 it occurred to the major to enter the building; and for half an hour he wandered about among the glass cases, studying curiously the strangely distorted fragments of the poor human body which are there preserved. as he turned the corner of one large case, he saw something that induced him to halt. a brief distance in front of him sat a woman intently engaged in drawing upon a piece of pasteboard which stood upon a small easel. it was so unexpected a sight that the major could not resist the impulse to observe her for a moment. she seemed young and fair; a mass of bright golden hair fell upon her shoulders, and as she turned her head to look at something in one of the cases that she seemed to be sketching, the major saw that her profile was exceedingly pretty.
he came a step or two closer, and noticed by means of a hurried glance that she had a strange figure of some kind upon the board; and then he passed on.
just as he got close to her his artificial leg—a leg that he had received a few days before by steamer from france—suddenly launched out sideways. it encountered the foot of the easel, and the next instant major dunwoody lay sprawling upon the floor, with the easel across his back and the pasteboard picture lying upon his head. he recovered himself promptly, and turning to the fair artist, who stood above him with a look256 of mingled vexation and amusement upon her face, said,—
“i—i—really i am very sorry. it is shocking, but i assure you i couldn’t help it. i am suffering from a wound, and—and” (the major did not like to confess so openly to his dismemberment); “and in fact i had not complete control of myself.”
the major was a handsome man, and either his appearance, his pleading look, the pathetic tone of his voice, or all combined, touched the artist’s heart with sympathy.
“oh, never mind,” she said, smiling, as the major thought, more sweetly than woman ever smiled before. “no harm is done. i hope you didn’t hurt yourself.”
“you are very kind. no, i am not hurt; but i am greatly mortified at the trouble i have caused you. i hardly know how to express my disgust for my clumsiness.”
“pray do not distress yourself about it,” said the artist, laughing; “the easel is not broken and the sketch is wholly uninjured. i should not have mourned if it had been destroyed. it is a mere study, and very incomplete.”
“you are too generous,” replied the major; “but i will take good care not to disturb you again, if i can find my way out of here. would you—would you—be—be—would you be good enough to call the janitor, or somebody, to help to get me upon257 my feet again? i cannot rise without—in fact, my wound is—is—”
“i shall be more than glad to assist you,” said the artist, with a glance of pity in her blue eyes, “if you will take my hand.”
the major looked at the hand for a moment. it was extremely pretty; he had an impulse to kiss it, but he restrained himself. he merely clasped it in his own. the artist braced herself firmly, and the next instant the major stood upright.
“i do not know how i can thank you for your kindness,” he said, “but permit me to offer you my card. i have some influence, and if i can ever serve you in any way i shall greatly rejoice.”
“major dunwoody! indeed!” exclaimed the artist, as she read the name. “you are not one of the dunwoodys of clarion county, pennsylvania, are you?”
“i was born there,” replied the major with not a little eagerness. he thought he saw a chance to acquire better acquaintance with this lovely and gifted woman. “do you know any of our folks?”
“oh, yes,” said the artist, with a bright smile. “my mother came from clarion county. she was a hunsicker, a daughter of hon. john hunsicker, who represented the district in the forty-first congress. i have often heard her speak of the dunwoodys.”
258 “indeed,” replied the major. “i knew your grandfather well when i was a boy.”
the conversation need not be given in detail. the artist and the major developed at some length how a hunsicker married a dunwoody; how a dunwoody eloped with a moyer, a cousin of the hunsickers; how a dunwoody fought a duel with another hunsicker over a political dispute, and shook hands afterwards; and how the loves and hates, and bargains and enterprises, and contests and schemes of the dunwoodys and hunsickers had filled the history of clarion county for a quarter of a century past.
at last the major said,—
“but you haven’t given me your name yet.”
“pandora m’duffy is my name. my mother, you know, married senator m’duffy, state senator. poor father died many years ago, and we are now living in washington.”
“studying art, i presume?” asked the major, glancing at the easel.
“yes,” replied pandora; “i am an artist.”
“is not this rather—rather a—a queer place to come to for sketches?”
“oh, no,” said pandora, laughing; “i came here to study anatomy for a great picture i am going to paint. you see what that is?” said she, lifting the cardboard, and showing the sketch to the major.
259 “that is a—a—i should say that was a picture of—well, of the elbow of a stove-pipe. isn’t it?”
“you are not very complimentary,” said pandora. “i know it is very raw and unfinished; but it is at least a fair likeness of that human leg in the jar of alcohol over there.”
“oh, of course! so it is, so it is; astonishing likeness! how stupid i am! to be sure. the very image of it.”
“come now, i know you don’t think so! you are flattering me!”
“no, indeed. it is wonderful! but—why, bless my soul, what on earth do you want a picture of such a thing as that for?”
“for my great painting,” said pandora, with a pretty little laugh. “i am preparing a picture, thirty-eight feet by twenty-seven feet, of george washington cutting down his father’s cherry-tree with his little hatchet.”
“what for?”
“i expect to sell it to the government, and to have it placed among the other historical pictures in the rotunda of the capitol.”
“but you are not going to put this leg in the picture?”
“yes; i represent george as being barefooted, and having one trouser-leg rolled up.”
“but then, i don’t exactly see how—well, but george was a boy, and this is a man’s leg.”
260 “i know, but i am drawing all the figures on a heroic scale.”
“ah!” said the major. then he added, “but i must bid you good morning.”
“i shall be very glad to have you come to see me,” said pandora.
“i assure you it will give me much pleasure to do so,” answered the major, with a feeling of exultation.
then he bowed politely, and withdrew.
when pandora reached home, she showed major dunwoody’s card to her mother, and told her of the adventure at the museum.
mrs. m’duffy sat upon the sofa and listened. she was a woman of distinguished appearance; of large frame, not corpulent, but rounded rather more than positive beauty seemed to require. having the carriage of a queen, with a finely-shaped head, a strongly-defined chin, held well up, an aquiline nose, and piercing black eyes, mrs. m’duffy impressed the observer with a sense of power. the mother of the gracchi might have been such a woman. if mrs. m’duffy had been born to a throne, she would have left her impress distinctly upon the history of nations.
mrs. m’duffy was familiar with the world. she was a woman who quickly comprehended possibilities. she clearly foresaw that major dunwoody might have an influence upon the future261 of pandora, and the prospect was not pleasing to her.
“pandora,” she said, “i trust you did not ask this man to call?”
“yes, i did, mother.”
“i am sorry to hear it. i never liked his branch of the dunwoodys. his father was mixed up with some very suspicious land speculations, and he died insolvent. major dunwoody has nothing but his pay. you must treat him with coolness when he comes.”
“why?”
“why! why, because it is very necessary that you should give him no encouragement of any kind. he is not a desirable match for you. besides, you owe it to your family now to offer every opportunity to achilles smith. mr. smith worships you!”
“and i hate him,” said pandora, vigorously.
“hate him, my child? why, how absurd! mr. smith is a very charming man, and when he gets his pottawatomie claim through congress, he will be rich.”
“he will never get it through; and i won’t have him, if he does!”
“never get it through, pandora! didn’t general belcher, the member for the ninety-sixth kansas district, and his bosom friend, assure me positively that it would be approved during the present session?”
262 “his claim is ridiculous. congress will never allow it.”
“my dear! pray don’t be absurd! his claim is quite as reasonable as thousands of similar claims. the pottawatomie indians scalped him in 1862, and he very properly asks the legislature of his country to compel the savages to make reparation by surrendering two million acres of their reservation. i cannot see anything ridiculous about that. if he succeeds, he will be the largest individual land-owner in the west.”
“if he succeeds!”
“but general belcher, who is pushing his case in congress, and who is to share the property with him, positively declares that he will succeed. the general, also, makes your acceptance of achilles the condition of his championship of your picture. he says that congress shall buy that picture upon the day that you marry achilles smith!”
“general belcher is simply disgusting, mother. i would never think of accepting a favor from him.”
“not when his exertions can lift you and your mother out of poverty, pandora? you talk most unreasonably.”
“i mean what i say,” said pandora firmly.
“very well, miss, we shall see,” replied mrs. m’duffy, rising and sweeping majestically from the room.
263 major dunwoody called upon that very evening. he called again the next evening. he called frequently upon following evenings; and although mrs. m’duffy treated him with coldness which bordered upon disdain, the major’s infatuation for pandora was so strong that he forgot mrs. m’duffy’s incivility in rejoicing over the exceeding graciousness of her daughter.
the major was convinced that pandora loved him, but he hesitated to take practical measures to ascertain the fact, because he could not summon up a sufficient amount of resolution to tell her the truth about the loss of his leg. he was far too honorable to deceive her respecting his misfortune until she had committed herself to him, and he was haunted by apprehension that she might reject him when she knew the actual state of the case. a catastrophe brought matters to a crisis.
one sunday evening the major escorted pandora to church. during the worship the major felt his french leg give several very strange twitches, and he could hear a clicking sound in the knee as if some of the springs were loose and moving about in an independent manner. pandora noticed the noise too, and leaned over to ask the major, in a whisper, if there was not a mouse running about upon the floor of the pew. the major said he did not think there was.
264 pandora whispered that it sounded rather more like machinery.
the major faintly intimated that it might proceed from the gas meter in the cellar, or perhaps the people in the gallery were fixing something about the organ.
the major had always rather doubted the springs in the knee-joint of the french leg. they impressed him as being far more complicated and ingenious than was necessary for simple purposes of locomotion. he was thinking about them tremulously when the sermon began. the preacher had hardly announced his text when the major’s leg suddenly flew up, kicked the bonnet upon the head of the lady in front of him over the wearer’s eyes, and finally the leg fell upon the top of the back of the pew, where it kicked away vigorously. the major, blushing crimson, grasped it and pulled it down by a severe effort. the wearer of the bonnet looked at him with indignation. pandora seemed ready to faint.
when the major let go his hold of the leg it bounced up again, and performed the most eccentric movements upon the back of the pew. pandora could not suppress a faint scream; and the entire congregation stared at the miserable major as he seized the leg and thrust it down into the pew. he held it down firmly, but the springs were strong, and they forced the toes to beat a265 wild tattoo upon the wooden partition in front of them.
in an agony of mortification, the major rose, with the intention to leave the building. the sexton, who had approached him to ascertain the cause of the disturbance, gave him his arm, and the major hopped down the aisle with his horrible leg flying out behind and before in a convulsive manner, kicking the sexton, banging pew-doors, and behaving generally in a most sensational and exciting manner.
pandora followed her lover at a short distance. when the porch of the church was reached, the leg was still in a condition of violent agitation, and the major, wild with shame and rage, said to the sexton,—
“take it off! unbuckle it! take it off quick!”
the sexton bravely approached, fumbled about for a moment in search of the strap, and an instant later the major’s imported leg lay upon the carpet squirming about, kicking viciously, and leaping hither and thither like a wounded and desperate animal.
“call a carriage,” gasped the major, as he leaned against the wall.
the sexton dispatched a boy for a vehicle, and when it came he placed the major within, helped pandora to a seat, and the party moved toward home.
266 for a little while neither the major nor pandora spoke. the situation seemed too awful for words. the silence was becoming embarrassing, when suddenly pandora said,—
“poor man!”
“what, are you sorry for me?” asked the major eagerly.
“indeed i am. how you must have suffered!”
“i thought you would hate me for subjecting you to such mortification.”
“but you couldn’t help it. i would be very unjust to blame you.”
“and you do not dislike me because i am so crippled?”
“how could i? you are a soldier. you lost your leg honorably, did you not?”
“it was shot away at gettysburg.”
“you lost it to save my country, and you think i would not honor you for such a sacrifice?”
“your kind words make me brave. if i might dare—”
“such a hero as you may dare anything,” she said.
“may i dare to ask if, while you honor me, you can also love me?”
“you may; and if you do, i will answer ‘yes.’”
“you are an angel!” exclaimed the major.
they expressed their emotion in a very usual manner, which need not be described. when the267 carriage turned into the street upon which pandora lived, she said,—
“henry dear,—i may call you henry, mayn’t i?—where is your leg?”
“i left it squirming about in the church porch.”
“no; i mean your real one, dear. the leg that was shot off.”
“i haven’t the least idea. buried, i suppose.”
pandora was silent and thoughtful for a moment. then she said,—
“isn’t it barely possible that one of those legs preserved at the medical museum is yours?”
“well, i declare i never thought of that! perhaps mine is there.”
“the one i was sketching on the day i first met you was labelled—‘gettysburg, july 3rd, 1863.’ maybe that was it.”
“i will go around to-morrow and examine it. it would be very odd, pandora dearest, if it should be mine. wouldn’t it?”
“very. but i want you to make me a promise. if it should be yours, will you get it and give it to me?”
“if i can i will. but what on earth do you want it for?”
“for two reasons i want it: first, because if i am to marry you i have a legal right to all of you; and, second, because my george washington has been standing upon one leg beside the cherry-tree for268 three weeks now, for the reason that i can’t make a satisfactory study of his other leg.”
“pandora, i will gratify you if human energy is equal to the task. the impulses of an undying affection, not less than a fervid regard for the interests of high art, shall nerve me to the work.”
“thank you, darling!” she said.
then the carriage stopped at the m’duffy front door. pandora alighted, rang the bell, kissed her hand and disappeared, while the major drove home in ecstasy to brood upon his unexpected happiness, and to fit himself with a government leg that was numbered among the best in his collection.
the next morning he went around to the medical museum and examined exhibit 1307 in case 25, being the leg which pandora had proposed to pass on to immortality by attaching a representation of it to her picture of george washington.
the major could not say with positiveness that the leg was his, but his impression that it belonged to him was strengthened by certain scars that seemed to be familiar, among them one which called up memories of a dog-bite obtained in a clarion county orchard away back in the years of his boyhood.
a thought struck him. he called the janitor, and slipping a coin into his hand, he explained the case to that officer. at the major’s suggestion the janitor removed the specimen from the alcohol,269 and trod heavily upon the excrescence upon the toe. the major yelled with pain. the identity of the limb was definitely ascertained.
“i will recover possession of that leg,” said the major as he left the building, “if i have to buy the entire collection!”
