Headquarters, Army Of Potomac
October 1, '63
Yesterday we had a sword presentation (nothing else to do
now, you know). It would appear that General Warren is a native of Cold Spring,
near West Point; whereupon it did occur to the natives of his mother town to
buy a sword for him in token of their, etc., etc., etc. The weapon was duly
entrusted to the safe keeping of a certain Dr. Young, and of another certain
Mr. Spaulding, both of whom arrived, a day or two since, with the precious
casket. Early in the morning came an orderly with a notice, saying that the
Staff officers were respectfully invited to, etc., etc., etc. We persuaded the
Quartermaster to give us a car (which turned out to be a grain car with a few
chairs), and, by this means, we were enabled to go from Culpeper in about
twenty minutes, the General leading the crowd. General Warren was lodged in
Spartan simplicity, in a third-rate farmhouse. His dress was even more Spartan
than his lodgment. Did I ever describe him to you? Fancy a small, slender man,
with a sun-burnt face, two piercing black eyes, and withal bearing a most
ludicrous resemblance to cousin Mary Pratt! He was dressed in a double-breasted
blouse, buttoned awry, a pair of soldier's pantaloons, rather too short, and a
very old little straw hat, of the kind called “chip.” Such is the personnel of
one of the very best generals in the Army of the Potomac! He is a most kind
man, and always taking care of hysterical old Secesh ladies and giving them
coffee and sugar. As to Secesh males, in the army, he is a standing
terror to them. This valiant warrior, who don't care a button for missiles, was
extremely nervous at the idea of the sword presentation, and went trotting about
the house consulting with Dr. Young. There soon arrived sundry other generals,
each with a longer or shorter tail. General French, the pattern of the Gallic
colonel; General Griffin, whose face is after the manner of his name; and quite
a bushel-basketfull of brigadiers. Then the band arrived; and, by that time,
there was a house filled with shoulder-straps of all sorts (I certainly knocked
the crowd by having a pair of cotton gloves). Thereupon we formed a semi-circle
round the porch, where was deposited, on an old pine table, the elegant
rosewood case. General Warren stood up, looking much as if about to be married,
and Dr. Young, standing opposite with a paper in his hand, so resembled a
clergyman, that I fully expected him to say, “Warren, will you have this sword to
be your lawful, wedded wife?” But instead, he only read how the citizens of
Cold Spring, desirous of showing their appreciation of the patriotism, etc.,
had procured this sword, etc., in token of, etc., etc. To which the General,
looking, if possible, still more as if in the agonies of the altar, replied
from a scrap of notepaper, the writing whereof he could not easily read. The
whole took about five minutes, at the end of which he drew a breath of great
relief, and remarked, “The execution is over; now won't you come in and eat
something?” The spread consisted of roast beef, baked ham, bread, assorted
pickles, laid out on a table with newspapers for a cloth. The generals fed
first and were accommodated partly with chairs and partly with a pine bench,
borrowed from a neighboring deserted schoolhouse. While some ate, the rest were
regaled with a horse-bucketfull of whiskey punch, whereof two or three of the
younger lieutenants got too much, for which I warrant they paid dear; for the “Commissary”
whiskey is shocking and the water, down near the river, still worse. All this
took place in full view of the hills, across the river, on and behind which
were camped the Rebels; and I could not help laughing to think what a
scattering there would be if they should pitch over a 20-pound Parrott shell,
in the midst of the address! But they are very pleasant now, and the pickets
walk up and down and talk across the river. And so we got in our grain car and
all came home. . . .
SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s
Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness
to Appomattox, p. 25-7
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