Dear ———: I followed
the regiment through the streets, and tried hard at the Depot to find you and ———
at the cars last evening to shake hands and say goodbye, but, in vain. I cdnt
find in which car was the Company even; and I began and walked through the cars
shaking hands along, but the train started and I had to jump off, in motion,
before I had finished. . . . Allow me to beg of you all — officers of the field
— to have a single eye to the common good, happiness, success and welfare of
the whole.
Let no standing on
etiquette or dignity, or nice points ever postpone the interests even of the
humblest private. Let each one think that the regiment depends on him, as much
as if he was the only officer in it. And I pray you regard every little
thing that makes for the comfort and convenience of the command, or that
promotes its order or safety. A lynch pin out of a cart wheel and not supplied
is fatal to the whole load, loses the cargo, and makes the cart and team as
useless as if there were none. Every soldier shd be taught and made to
care for and save all his property and implements, whether of war or
convenience.
I think the
regiment, if it fails at all, will fail for the want of that nice and regular
discipline and care, which constitutes, in a trader the difference between a
bankrupt and a thrifty business man and which in a household marks the odds
between the good housekeeper and a disgusting slut. Col. ——— seems to me to
think a regiment mainly intended for exhibiting a dress-parade, which is after
all, to a regiment, just about what making a handsome bow is to a man.
It is a proper accomplishment and properly comes in on receiving or parting
with your host or your guest and on occasions of ceremony; but it wont stand in
the stead of yr dinner when hungry, nor packing your trunk and getting yr
ticket for a journey. . . .
I think Col. ———,
under the excitement of battle or great duties is likely to [do] his
best. I am more afraid of his failure by the weakness of not comprehending the
value of details, and not understanding that all the victories of Life have to
be won by preparation long before the battle itself begins. A man must see a
thing in his mind, before he can do it with his hand; and unless he has
seen every step of the process he has not seen it at all.
Professor Cleaveland1
lectured on chemistry at Bowdoin College for fifty years; and yet, year
after year the grand and charming old man whose memory brings tears to my eyes
while I write his name, — patiently worked out every experiment in his
laboratory before exhibiting it to his class, and would not believe that he
could perform it successfully this year, until he had tried it by
testing every process and manipulating it anew — though he had done the same
thing a hundred times before — today was always given wholly to its own work.
And in fifty years the tradition is that he never failed before his class. What
an example and what a happiness there is in such a faithful, devoted, dutiful
life. Shallow men may think glory is won by showy action, like a vapid actor
tearing passion into tatters close to the foot-lights. But you, I know,
are not misled by any such folly; though to you as to me it is
always possible not to remember that such notions are always hanging at the
door of the wisest and may catch even them.
If you ever read
through this long and tiresome sermon, you will see, I hope, in it the evidence
of the personal interest and watchful, heart-felt affection, which ought to be
entertained by a friend, whose acquaintance has been an intimacy of years. —
With every good wish and fervent blessings, believe me, faithfully and always
Yours
John A. Andrew.
____________________
1 Parker Cleaveland, professor at Bowdoin from
1805 to 1858.
SOURCE: Henry
Greenleaf Pearson, The Life of John A. Andrew: Governor of
Massachusetts, 1861-1865, Volume 1, p. 229-31
