Headquarters Army Of Potomac
They have been
singularly niggardly to us about election returns; but we have reliable
intelligence to-night that Lincoln is re-elected, the coarse, honest,
good-natured, tolerably able man! It is very well as it is; for the certainty
of pushing this war to its righteous end must now swallow up all other
considerations. I am still more content that there has been a powerful
opposition to him, even from respectable men, an opposition strong enough to
carry several states. This will caution him, or better, his party, to proceed
cautiously and to make no fanatical experiments, such as we too often have
seen, but to proceed firmly, and according to rule and law. Lincoln has some
men of ability about him — pre-eminent, Mr. Seward, whom the ultras have thrown
over, but whom I think the strong man of the cabinet. Mr. Fessenden is said to
be a very superior person, and his face is certainly a bright one, very. There
is another important advantage in keeping on as we are: the machine is in
running order and it is always a drawback to change midst a season of public
trial. And again we have done with Lincoln what the Rebels have successfully
done with their generals, let him learn from his own misfortunes and mistakes;
not a bad school for a sensible man. So you see, I am inclined to make the best
of what I deem is the best, albeit not very good. . . .
Have you read an
article from Fraser, in Littel’s, called “Concord Transcendentalists.”
It is a singular production, rather entertaining some of it, and interspersed
with the weakest, sweetened warm milk and water. The place where it says that
Theodore Parker hid two slaves in his study, and nightly sat writing at the
door of it, with several pistols and the gun that had belonged to his
grandfather, would be a funny passage at any time, but, written so gravely
in these war days, it is quite irresistible! If you see any number, in future,
containing the tale of Tony Butler,1 you might send it to me, though
it is no great matter. I have read a number or two, the last chapter being in
this very number where the Transcends flourish. Which reminds me of what a West
Point professor said, according to the solemn Duane. He was hearing a
recitation in philosophy, and would fain illustrate how the body might slowly
change, yet the individual remain the same. “Now,” said he, “if I have a knife
and lose a blade and get it replaced, it is still the same knife.” “Well,” said
a stupid-looking cadet, “and suppose you lose the other blades, one after
another, and get them replaced, is it the same knife?” “Certainly,” replied the
Professor. “And suppose the handle should get rather ricketty and you replaced
that?” “Yes, it would be the same knife.” “Well, now,” cried the stupid one,
suddenly brightening up amazingly, “suppose you took the old handle, and found
the old blades, and put 'em all together, what would you call that, hey?”
Poor Major Duane! he can't do much but talk and tell stories, for he is quite
miserably yet and is not fit for duty, though he is improving. . . .
Last night, with a
mild south wind, we had a singular example of the stopping of sound. Our
batteries near the plank road, some three miles off, may usually be heard with
perfect distinctness; not only the guns, but the explosion of the shells; and
the replies of the Rebels also. At night we can see the shells going over, by
the burning fuse, that looks like a flying spark. The deception is very
singular in the dark, for, though the shell may be passing at the rate of 1200
feet a second, in the distance the fuse seems to go slowly and in a stately
curve. This is because 1200 feet looks very small, three miles away, and the
eye gets an idea of rapidity by the space travelled over in a given time. Well,
last night, they opened a somewhat brisk discharge of mortar shells from both
sides; but though we could see them go through the sky and burst below, not the
faintest sound reached the ear! At other times these same guns will sound quite
close to us. I could cite many such contrasts.
I rode forth with
good Duke Humphrey, to see the dress-parade in the 9th Corps. That and the 5th,
not being in the immediate presence of the enemy, have a good chance for drill.
The 9th Corps, in particular, have gone into the evolutions to an alarming
extent, an exercise which, like Wistar's balsam of wild cherry, can't do harm
and may do good. Around General Parke's Headquarters there is a chronic beating
of drums and fifing of fifes and playing of bands. We sat some time and watched
the drilling; it was quite fun to see them double-quicking here, and marching
there, and turning up in unexpected positions. At last the gallant Colonel
McLaughlen, after many intricate manoeuvres, charged and took a sutler's tent,
and the brigade was then marched to its quarters. As we returned, there was a
nig brigade, having its dress parade in fine style. They looked extremely well
and marched in good style. The band was a great feature. There was a man with
the bass drum (the same I believe that so amused De Chanal) who felt a ruat-coelum-fiat-big-drum
sentiment in his deepest heart! No man ever felt more that the success of
great things lay in the whacking of that sheepskin with vigor and precision! Te-de-bung,
de-de-bung, bung, bung! could be heard, far and near. . . . The nigs are getting quite brisk at
their evolutions. If their intellects don't work, the officers occasionally
refresh them by applying the flats of their swords to their skins. There was a
Swede here, who had passed General Casey's board for a negro commission. He was
greatly enraged by a remark of the distinguished Casey, who asked him what Gustavus
Adolphus did, meaning what great improvements he introduced in the art of war. To
which the furriner replied: “He was commander-in-chief of the Swedish army.” “Oh,
pooh!” said Casey, “that's nothing!” Which the Swede interpreted to mean that
Gustavus was small potatoes, or that the Swedish army was so. Really, most
foreign officers among us are but scapegraces from abroad. The other day the
Belgian Minister Sanford sent a letter asking for promotion for private
Guatineau, whose pa had rendered us great service by writing in the French
press. The matter being referred to his commander, the reply was: “This man deserted
to the enemy from the picket line.”
_______________
1 By Charles James Lever, and then running in
Blackwood's Magazine.
SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s
Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness
to Appomattox, p. 259-62
