Headquarters, Army Of The Potomac
September 29,
1863
I see such flocks of generals now, that I do not always take
the pains to describe them. On Sunday there arrived General Benham, one of the
dirtiest and most ramshackle parties I ever saw. Behind him walked his Adjutant-General,
a great contrast, in all respects, being a trig, broad-shouldered officer, with
a fierce moustache and imperial and a big clanking sabre. I gazed at this
Adjutant-General and he at me, and gradually, through the military fierceness,
there peeped forth the formerly pacific expression of Channing Clapp!1
There never was such a change, Achilles and all other warlike persons; and is
much improved withal. That same evening enter another general (distinguished
foreigner this time), El General Jose Cortez, chevalier of some sort of red
ribbon and possessor of a bad hat. He was accompanied by two eminent Seflors,
Mexicans and patriotic exiles. We were out riding when they came; but, after
our return, and in the midst of dinner, there comes an orderly with a big
official envelope, proving to be a recommendation from Mr. Seward. “Oh,” says
the General, “another lot, hey? Well, I suppose they will be along to-morrow”;
and went on quietly eating dinner. Afterwards I went into the office of General
Williams (or “Seth” as they call him here) and there beheld, sitting in a
corner, three forlorn figures. Nobody seemed to know who they were, but the
opinion prevailed that they were a deputation of sutlers, who were expected
about that time! But I, hearing certain tones of melancholy Spanish, did
presently infer that they were the parties mentioned in the big, official
envelope, and so it proved! They were speedily entered into the General's
presence and, after a few compliments, anxiously asked when the next train
left for Washington; for it appears that they had supposed Culpeper was a
pleasant jaunt of about fifteen minutes from the Capitol, and was furnished
with elegant hotels and other conveniences; consequently they had brought no sac
de nuit, and had had nothing to eat since early morning, it being then
dark! Their surprise was considerable, after a weary ride of some hours, to be
dumped in a third-rate village, deserted by its inhabitants and swarming with dusty
infantry. John made ready with speed, and, after a meal and a bottle of
champagne, it was surprising to see how their barometers rose, especially that
of small Señior,
No. 2, who launched forth in a flood of eulogium on the state of civil liberty
in the United States. Our next care was to provide them
sleeping-accommodations; no easy matter in the presence of the fact that each
has barely enough for himself down here. But I succeeded in getting two
stretchers from the hospital (such as are used to bring in the wounded from the
field) and a cot from Major Biddle; three pillows (two india-rubber and one
feather) were then discovered, and these, with blankets, one tin basin, one
bucket, and one towel, made them entirely happy. Really, how they looked so fresh
next morning was quite a marvel. Then, after a good breakfast, we put them all
on horseback (to the great uneasiness of the two Señiors) and followed by a great crowd of a Staff (who
never can be made to ride, except in the higglety-pigglety style in which
“Napoleon et ses Marechaux” are always represented in the common engravings),
we jogged off, raising clouds of red dust, to take a look at some soldiers. . . . El General was highly pleased and kept
taking off his bad hat and waving it about. Also he expressed an intense desire
that we should send 50,000 men and immediately wipe out the French in Mexico.
“Why doesn't Meade attack Lee?” Ah, I have already thrown
out a hint on the methods of military plans in these regions. But, despite the
delays, I should have witnessed a great battle before this; if, If, IF, at the
very moment the order had not come to fill up the gap that the poltroonery of
two of Rosecrans’ Corps has made in the western armies. I do believe that we
should have beaten them (that's no matter now), for my Chief, though he
expressly declares that he is not Napoleon, is a thorough soldier, and a
mighty clear-headed man; and one who does not move unless he knows where and
how many his men are; where and how many his enemy's men are; and what sort of
country he has to go through. I never saw a man in my life who was so
characterized by straightforward truthfulness as he is. He will pitch into
himself in a moment, if he thinks he has done wrong; and woe to those, no
matter who they are, who do not do right! “Sir, it was your duty and you
haven't done it; now go back and do it at once,” he will suddenly remark to
some astonished general, who thinks himself no small beer. Still I do wish
he would order the Provost-Marshal to have a few more of the deceased horses
buried. The weather here is perfect — could not be finer.
_______________
1 A classmate at Harvard.
SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s
Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness
to Appomattox, p. 23-5
