CAMP PIERPONT, VA., February
6, 1862.
Day before yesterday, the weather being promising, and tired
of the mud and ennui of camp, I mounted my horse and in company with
Kuhn rode into town. After getting off the mud, we paid several visits which I
had long been contemplating. In the evening, Kuhn went to see some Boston
friends, and I passed the evening at Harry Prince's room, smoking and talking
over old times and present troubles.
The next morning I started at 1 P. M. to Mrs. McClellan's.
Here I found all Washington — citizen, foreign and strangers — among whom of
course I saw many friends and acquaintances. Everybody asked after you, and
wondered you did not come down and stay in Washington while the army was here,
as if you could do as you please. Now for Mrs. McClellan. Her manners are
delightful; full of life and vivacity, great affability, and very ready in
conversation. She did not hear my name when presented, but while I was
apologizing for not having earlier called to see her, she said, "General
Meade, is it not?" I said "Yes." She said, "I knew it must
be from the likeness, for I have your picture." I told her I felt very
much complimented, etc., etc. During the three hours I spent there a constant
succession of visitors came in and out to call, and to all of whom she had
plenty to say in the easiest and most affable manner. I came away quite charmed
with her esprit and vivacity.
I hear that the flag of truce which came in the other day
brought the intelligence that the Confederate Government intended to hold the
officers who were hostages for the privateers as hostages for the bridge
burners that Halleck has sentenced to be hung in Missouri. If this is so, poor
Willcox will be detained, if not sacrificed, as I do not well see how our
Government can recede from punishing men who are not soldiers, but
incendiaries, having no claim to the rights of prisoners of war, beyond the
fact that the war incited them to do what they did.
I called at Mr. Stanton's in the evening, with a friend who
knew him; but we were told at the door that his usual reception was postponed
for Mrs. Lincoln's ball. I then accompanied this friend to a liquor store kept
by Mr. Fred. S. Cozzens, the author of the Sparrowgrass Papers and other
well-known literary productions, who finds liquor selling more profitable than
literature. Here I was introduced to Mr. Cozzens, a member of Congress and
others, discussed a bottle of champagne and claret, and talked over the affairs
of the day. The member, who was an Administration Democrat, said the ultras had
been defeated some days ago, in a vote of censure that they had tried to pass
on Halleck, and that there was in the House a clear majority for the President
as against the ultras. Much anxiety in regard to foreign intervention and the
lack of means was expressed. The Georgia address was considered a sign of
desperation, and preparing the Southern mind for defeat. Altogether, the
feeling is one of hope. I have told you the whole of my town spree.
SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George
Gordon Meade, Vol. 1, p. 244-5
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