proceeded to complete his surprise of the enemy by leading a bayonet
charge from his side of the triangle, and immediately telegraphed to
the base of the triangle that the enemies of human freedom were
retreating before him. This was truly the case; for the unseemly
Confederacies not only retreated before him, but retreated with such
impetus of flight upon Captain Villiam Brown at the base of the
triangle, that they actually drove him clear out of his place, and
proceeded to occupy the base themselves. Thus matters stood at the
conclusion of the first day.
Early on the second day, the Grim Old Fighting Cox charged again upon
some fresh regiments of Confederacies, who retreated with such violence
that they completely pressed Captain Bob Shorty from the right line of
the triangle, and remained in that line themselves. This was the
second day's battle.
On the following morning, it was discovered that fresh Confederacies
had come up from Paris. These were attacked irresistibly by the whole
Mackerel Brigade, and only succeeded in making a stand when they
formed, as it were, the left line of the triangle.
You will perceive, my boy, that a great piece of geometrical strategy
had been thus achieved; but it now turned out that the General of the
Mackerel Brigade had made a mistake, and a most serious one. While
taking his observations with his ingenious glass instrument, he had
seen just double the number of triangles (2) that might be formed by
certain great strategical evolutions, as he had seen just double the
number of the Confederacies; but, in his haste, he had neglected to
divide the ascertained number of triangles by two, as he should have
done; and now he discovered that only one triangle was formed, and that
by the unseemly and chuckling Confederacies. Such a nice thing is
strategy, and so easily is it deranged!
Owing to this error, of course nothing more could be done, and on
Tuesday evening the Mackerel Brigade returned, full of enthusiasm, to
their original side of Duck Lake. The affair had been merely a
reconnoissance.
Last evening, at dusk, I was talking to the Mackerel Chaplain about
this singular strategical affair, and says he:
"God help us! The skeleton regiments we have left standing are scarcely
more than the skeleton regiments we have left sleeping; and only the
sleeping ones can look upward."
Let gentle charity, my boy, silence our tongues to the dread mistake
that is past; for he who made it lost by it the glorious immortality
his meanest soldier slain has won.
Yours, gently,
ORPHEUS C. KERR.
LETTER XCIV.
AFFORDING AN INSTANCE OF IMPERCEPTIBLE PATRIOTISM; PRESENTING THE
PROFOUND COMMENTARY OF AN EMINENT FOREIGN MILITARY CRITIC; AND
REPORTING THE LAST EFFUSION OF THE GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE.
WASHINGTON, D.C., May 17th, 1863.
When great interests are at stake, my boy, and strong passions are
excited, and when it becomes necessary that a whole nation shall be
unanimous for its own preservation from destruction, we occasionally
meet with chaps of severe countenance and much shirt-ruffles, whose
patriotism is purely that of descent, and not at all of assent. Since
this great strategic war commenced, I have encountered divers
iron-faced and brass-mounted conservative fellow-beings, whose
sentiments in action have seemed to establish as an inevitable
postulate in logic, that a man sired by a hero of '76, must naturally
be damn'd by the heroes of '63; and that a man with Revolutionary blood
in his veins is entirely exempted from all legitimacy to a propensity
for spilling the least drop of that sacred liquid in behalf of a cause
not Revolutionary. It was on Tuesday, my boy, that I met the Honorable
Fernando Fuel, the member-elect from the Sixth Ward, who had come
hither for the express purpose of getting up for himself an entirely
new coat of arms, according to New York Heraldry, and of procuring from
some scholar a recondite couplet that should at once serve, in motto
form, to denote his Revolutionary descent, and express his high moral
patriotism as apart from any partisan desire to see injuries inflicted
upon the Wayward Sisters of his distracted country. He came to me, and
says he:
"Learning, sir, that you are qualified to cull from your extensive
poetical readings some unique couplet appropriate for my approaching
coat-of-arms, I desire you to furnish me with the same, and present
your bill to our Excellent Democratic Organization, of which I am Chief
Indian near--In short, a Sachem local. My patriotism," says he, shading
a slight cough with a black cotton-glove,--"My patriotism is doubted by
none but those imbecile despots who defeated our Excellent Democratic
Organization in the last Presidential election, and are now waging a
bloody and unnatural war for the sake of the Demon of Africa. But my
patriotism hurls back the epithet of 'traitor,' and is clearly
established by the fact that I had an ancestor in the Revolution. It is
my wish," says this plausibly-spoken chap, nodding to a Faro-banker as
he happened to pass at that moment,--"it is my wish that the couplet
should express, neatly and figuratively as it were, the exact degree of
my present patriotism, and its derivation from my Revolutionary
ancestor. Let it represent me clothed in patriotism, as it were."
I thought upon his words for a while, my boy, and then says I:
"For such unspeakable patriotism as yours, good Fuel, there can be no
finer couplet than this:
"'_A painted vest Prince Vortiger had on,_
_That from a naked Pict his grandsire won._'"
The Honorable Fuel turned very crimson in the face with intense
gratification, and says he: "Ha! ha!--ahem! Yes, that's not bad. Ha!
ha! very good--you infernal Black Republican you!"
He left me, as a cloud might leave the sun with which it had vainly
attempted to cut up shines, and I felt for a moment, like one lost in
the Wood. With the best intentions in the world, I had only succeeded
in adding Fuel to the flames of treason.
It pleases me to say that Herr Suvchork, one of those eminent foreign
strategists of war who have visited our distracted country for the
truly benignant purpose of teaching us how we may win battles only
recently lost, has honored me with a great metaphysical criticism upon
the recent reconnoissance and triangular proceeding of the New General
of the Mackerel Brigade against the well-known Southern Confederacies
on the other side of Duck Lake. We may all learn a valuable lesson, my
boy, from this able _critique_, which reads thus:
"SOMEDINGS ABOUT ODDERDINGS.
"I have notice in der bapers that der Genral Fighting Cok cross
Dook Lake in two parts, the odder day, when he assaulted the Rebel
Army von Lee, which was strongly post in entrenchment built
especial for dees purpose. Das was vare wrong, and oppose to all
the princeeples von der Great Napoleon. Das vas der great troubles
with Fritz Magnus von Prussia, at Kunersdorf, where he had dirty
dousand pick troops, and lost seventeen dousand, in sooch way.
Genral Fighting Cok was adopting der princeeple of der Duke von
Cumberland at Fontenoy, when he should adopt sooch plan as that of
Marechal Saxe, und keep his troops all togedder, und not cross Dook
Lake in two parts. To attack sooch Rebel Army in entrenchment built
especial for dees purpose, it was necessaire as he should do
everydings togedder; keep his troops altogedder, und fight them
altogedder.
"I have not known Genral Fighting Cok in Germany, and I knows not
as he is as good Genral as Sigel; so I cannot say as he is sooch
goot Genral as Sigel und me. But _merk auf_!--_merk auf_--he has
not so large militaire mind as
A. P. SUVCHORK."
While you will join with me, my boy, in acknowledging the soundness of
this criticism from our able German critic, I am sure that we must both
perceive something like cruelty to animals in the very common practice
of giving the exact directions for gaining a victory so soon after the
battle has terminated in defeat. It is like telling a patient who has
just taken a dose of salts, how he might have cured himself by a course
of _pates de foie gras_.
And now let me direct your most intense attention to the Mackerel Camp
on this side of Duck Lake, where the spectacled veterans are all
repairing their umbrellas for another reconnoissance toward the first
point of the compass that seems most vulnerable. They are all full of
enthusiasm, my boy, over the loss of some of their comrades and arms in
the recent triangular geometrical proceedings against the unseemly
Confederacy, and unanimously demand to be led against the enemies of
human freedom that presume to show the freedom of human enemies.
You may remember that, just previous to the recent crossing of Duck
Lake, Captain Samyule Sa-mith was despatched with the Anatomical
Cavalry to dig a canal in the immediate rear of the Southern
Confederacy, in order that the legions of the enemies of human freedom
about to be captured by surprise, might be at once set to hard labor on
the tow-path. It was not more than four days after all the fighting was
over that Samyule came back with his equestrian warriors, and says the
General to him:
"Well, boy, is the canal finished?"
Samyule scratched his head, and says he: "Not quite, sire; but we have
torn up a Confederate railroad."
It was this circumstance, my boy, that gave rise to the recent reports
of the capture of Richmond, as considerable of the Rebel capital is
known to be invested in railroad iron.
Shortly after Samyule's return, the Grim Old Fighting Cox took off his
coat, rolled up his sleeves, ordered a couple of spies to be executed,
and discharged the following
"CONGRATULATORY ORDER.
"HEAD QUARTERS MACKEREL BRIGADE.
"The General commanding tenders to the aged Mackerels his
congratulations on their achievements of the last seven days, which
were week.
"If they have not accomplished all that was expected, the reason
is, that more was expected than has been accomplished.
"It is sufficient to say that they were of a character not to be
foreseen without foresight, nor prevented without human sagacity
and attainable resources.
"In withdrawing from the other side of Duck Lake without delivering
a general battle to our adversaries, the Mackerels have proved
their renewed diffidence in themselves, and their fidelity to a
high standard of retiring modesty.
"In fighting at a disadvantage, instead of at the enemy, we would
have been recreant to our trust in our pontoons.
"Profoundly loyal, and conscious of its strength, the Mackerel
Brigade will give or decline battle whenever it considers the
weather sufficiently pleasant and the newspapers sufficiently
snubbed.
"It will also be the dictator of its own history and the vindicator
of its own legs.
"By our celerity and secrecy of movement, both in crossing and
re-crossing Duck Lake, we neither pursued, nor were pursued by, a
Rebel.
"The events of the last week may swell with pride the feet of every
officer and soldier in this Brigade.
"We have made long marches and countermarches, crossed and
re-crossed lakes, surprised the enemy by our advance, brought back
seven pieces of our artillery, and given heavier blows than the
wind.
"We have nothing to regret, save the loss of our brave companions,
and in this we may be consoled by the conviction that they fell in
the holiest cause ever left so exclusively to the care of
Providence, that very little human intelligence was deemed
necessary to direct its arbitrament in battle.
"(Blue Seal.)
"THE GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE."
As we consider the vast world of animated nature, my boy, and mark what
apparent simplicity there is in the structure of beast, bird, and
reptile, does it not seem exceedingly strange, that all of man's
vaunted ingenuity has thus far succeeded in making imitative
approximation only to the insect kingdom,--the apparently least
difficult of all,--and to _that_ only by such a spurious kind of a bug
as Humbug?
Yours, wonderingly,
ORPHEUS C. KERR.
LETTER XCV.
NOTING THE CONTINUED ANGUISH OF THE CONSERVATIVE KENTUCKY CHAP, AND
THE DEATH OF NEMO; AND DESCRIBING AN IMMENSE POPULAR DEMONSTRATION
AGAINST THE OUTRAGES OF FEDERAL OPPRESSION.
WASHINGTON, D.C., May 24th, 1863.
The beautiful Spring, my boy, is out in the sunshine once more,--bowing
her pretty face over her lap, as though to breathe the odor of the
fresh violets lying scattered upon her coquettish green apron, but
really to hide the blush mantling the cheeks on which the hot breath of
enamored young Summer is tempting the roses to premature birth. What a
fine old world this is, after all, if we have plenty of money in our
pockets, plenty of health in our systems, and no poor relations! As you
stand on the Arlington side of the Potomac, on any one of these fair
May days, and look around you in any direction, there is a beauty even
about the tracks of war which enables you to comprehend why so many of
our brass-buttoned generals are fond of staying in one spot so long.
Behind you rise Arlington Heights, which are disliked by our excellent
National Democratic Organization, only because they wear a covering of
Lincoln green in summer; before you, and across the Potomac is the
Capitol of our distracted country, looking like an ambitious
marble-yard on its way out of town; and close beside you is one of our
national troops extracting certain wonders of the insect kingdom from a
Government biscuit. On Tuesday, I was standing with the Conservative
Kentucky chap near Long Bridge, surveying this scene, and says I,--
"Behold, my Nestor, how the scars left upon Nature's face by the
chariot wheels of War are turning into dimples, and all the twinkling
curves of a placid smile."
"Yes," says he, hastily picking up the Jack of Diamonds which he had
accidentally drawn from his pocket with his handkerchief,--"the scene
is somewhat pleasant; but not equal to Kentucky, where there is more
rye."
Here the Kentucky chap became so deeply affected that he was compelled
to smell a cork which he took from his vest pocket, and says he,--
"Kentucky raised a great deal of rye before the breaking out of this
here fatal war with the Southern Confederacy, with whom Kentucky is
connected by marriage; she raised it by the bottle; in which form it
becomes, as it were, the crowning glory of agriculture. Ah!" says the
Conservative Kentucky chap, stirring an invisible beverage with an
imaginary spoon, "how softly on my senses steals Kentucky's national
anthem,--
"'If a body meet a body,
Comin' through the rye.'
"And the Old Rye of Kentucky is famous for its body." The Kentucky chap
hiccupped at the bare recollection of the thing, and says he: "But we
can no longer say that the bloom is on the rye; for this unnatural war
has killed the agriculture of Kentucky and broken many of her bottles.
O Kentucky! Kentucky! how thirsty I am!"
After this speech, I could no longer profane the glory of God's
beautiful picture by talking about it to a chap who could see nothing
in a landscape but rye fields. And yet it is but natural for any
Conservative chap to talk thus, after all; for I have found it to be a
peculiarity of nearly all our fellow-beings, that Old Rye is forever
running in their heads.
On Wednesday, while I was on my usual weekly visit to the Mackerel camp
near Duck Lake, I was called to look upon the body of a poor soldier
who had been shot during the night by a prowling Confederacy. He was a
very young chap, my boy, with light, wavy hair, and might have been
taken for a mere lad, had there not been more years in the deep lines
on his brow than on his beardless chin. There he lay upon his gun, with
one hand clenched in the sand, and the other upon the damp red spot on
his breast. He looked like a child who had fallen asleep after unkind
words from his mother. The Chaplain and a private Mackerel in rags were
bending over him, and says I,--
"Who was he?"
"He went by the name of Nemo," says the Chaplain, sadly; "but no one
knows what his real name was. He enlisted only two days ago, and kept
himself apart from the other men. I think he _was_ a gentleman."
Here the private Mackerel in rags broke in, and says he: "Yes, he _was_
a gentleman. I an't no gentleman, but I know _he_ was, and I can lick
any man that says he wasn't! I spoke to him last night when he was
relieving guard, and asked him what fire-company he belonged to; and he
said, none. I see he looked sick, and wasn't fit to do duty, and I
offered to go out on picket in his place. It wasn't much to offer; but
he squeezed my hand very hard, and said that my life was worth more
than his; and that he would go. I asked him what he wanted to come to
the war and get killed for; and he said he'd tried to do his best in
the world, but everybody was against him, and he'd been disgraced for
trying to do an honorable thing, and couldn't stay and face people any
more, because all turned away from him. I told him I would lick the man
who hurt his feelings, and he only said: 'They all do that,' and went
away." Here the poor Mackerel in rags shed tears, and says he: "I know
he WAS a gentleman."
"I see how it is," says the Chaplain, shaking his head; "he was one of
those unfortunates whose sensitive natures are a legacy of unhappiness,
or madness, to be cancelled only by death. And yet his kindness of
heart with this rude soldier proved how much goodness there was in him
that the world had not turned to bitterness."
Alas! my boy, what a pity it is that these finer natures are forever
coming under the heels of everybody, and getting themselves crushed!
They are like fine Sevres vases among stout earthen pipkins, equally
ready to split with the cold, or be pulverized by a tilt from their
next door neighbors. It is a misfortune for such fragile natures as
these to be in this common-place world at all, my boy, and they cannot
do the more useful portion of humanity a greater service than by
getting themselves out of it as soon as possible. I have known human
porcelain vases of this kind so fragile, that they were half-cracked
before anything touched them.
On Thursday, my boy, the report that a friend of the well-known
Southern Confederacy had been arrested and court-martialled, in Ohio,
for simply advising the intelligent masses to set fire to a few Union
hospitals and go hunting after American eagles by the light
thereof,--this report, I say, excited amongst the loyal but seditious
patriots of storied Accomac an indignation that was anything but
speechless. Shades of our Revolutionary sires! was it possible that a
citizen of the Republic could no longer speak pieces without being
arrested for speaking peace! Ashes of the great! could it be, indeed,
true that, even where there were no police, a man's personal liberty
was no longer safe! The people of Accomac, my boy, were alarmed for
their own liberties, and at once held a public meeting, at which I
happened to be present.
As all the citizens who were worth $300 each sent notes to say that
they had imperative engagements to prepare for the approaching
Conscription, and could not come, the meeting was composed entirely of
the other citizens, many of whom engaged in single combat on their way
thither, for the purpose of making the distance seem shorter.
Punctually at seven o'clock, P.M., a gentleman of much muscle touched
off a small field-piece with such admirable precision as to break all
the windows for two blocks around, and then dexterously discharged a
two-pound sky-rocket into the third-story bedroom of a venerable maiden
lady living across the road. The demonstration was received with joyous
acclamations by the populace, nearly twelve of whom had already
arrived; and a victim of Federal oppression, with a very large stomach,
mounted the platform erected for the speakers, and said that he would
commence proceedings on this occasion, by reading a short portion of
Washington's Farewell Address from the volume of Bancroft which he held
in his hand. (Great applause.) The honorable gentleman then proceeded
to read something; but was interrupted by a reporter, who remarked that
the speaker must be mistaken about that being Washington's Address, as
he had certainly read it in the Bible. The honorable gentleman then
turned his book over so that he could read the title, and said that he
had, indeed, made a slight mistake about the volume. He would defer
reading the Address for the present, and begged leave to introduce Mr.
John Smith, the Hon. Ferdinand De Percy having failed to be present.
Mr. Smith said that it was the proudest moment of his life, and he felt
it an honor to be there. They had met together to denounce and spit
upon an astounding Administration, under whose tyrannical sway no man
was allowed to say one word against it. A fellow-citizen had been
arrested in Ohio upon the miserable charge of advocating peace, when he
was really disturbing the peace all he could. How long were such
outrages to be endured? He advised his hearers to strictly honor the
laws; but he would also have them go home, organize into regiments,
purchase artillery, procure iron-clads, and destroy every man who dared
to speak in favor of an Administration under which the boldest man
dared not express his sentiments. He would have them do all this
peaceably; but he would have them do it. (Great enthusiasm, and cries
of "Keep off my corns, durn ye!")
As Chesterfield Mortimer, the celebrated Accomac patriot, was not able
to be present on this occasion, Mr. Jones was introduced, and made a
few sensible remarks. He said that he had always been a law-abiding
man, and would always advocate the strictest observance of the laws.
The peaceful people, he trusted, would all procure reliable muskets
and....
At this moment, my boy, the speaker suddenly stopped short; stared at a
white object which had just appeared fluttering down the street; and
then, dashing wildly from the platform, tore furiously in the direction
of said object, which appeared to be moving, followed spontaneously and
with frantic speed by his fellow-speakers and the entire meeting. I was
astounded; I was overwhelmed; for such a sudden breaking-up and
precipitate flight of a great indignation meeting was never witnessed
before. Quickly mounting the vacant rostrum, I drew my field-glass from
my pocket, and proceeded to scan the wonderful white object which had
produced such an electrical effect. It was moving on, as I fixed my
glass upon it, and I found it to be a new banner, born by a fat young
man in a white apron, and bearing the inscription:
BROOKSES
NEW BAR-ROOM,
_JUST OPEN_.
FREE LUNCH NOW READY.
This it was, my boy, which had broken up one of the most significant
meetings of the age, by artfully working upon the idea of its supposed
inn-significance.
Upon reaching Washington, on my return, I heard that a serious-minded
chap, of Republican officiousness, had just waited upon the Honest Abe
to ask if he did not intend to cause the arrest of Smith and Jones for
their treason.
Our Uncle Abe smiled feebly, and scratched his head, and says he:
"What Smith and Jones, neighbor?"
"Why," says the serious-minded chap, earnestly, "the Smith and Jones of
Accomac."
"Well, really," says the Honest Abe, pleasantly, "it's curious, now;
but I never heard of them before."
Drawing an inference from this little circumstance of Executive
conversation, my boy, it strikes me that it would add considerably to
the importance of some of our large-sized local revolutionists, if they
could overturn the present ignorant Administration, and establish in
its place a ---- Directory.
Yours, double-entendrely,
ORPHEUS C. KERR.
LETTER XCVI.
DEVOTED PRINCIPALLY TO SOCIAL MATTERS, AND THE BENIGNANT BEARING OF
V. GAMMON AT A DIPLOMATIC SOIREE.
WASHINGTON, D.C., July 3d, 1863.