LETTER CVIII.
NARRATING THE UTTERLY UNPARALLELED CONQUEST OF PARIS BY THE VENERABLE MACKEREL BRIGADE, AFTER THREE DAYS' INCONCEIVABLE STRATEGY; IN FACT, A BATTLE-REPORT AFTER THE MANNER OF ALL OUR EXCITED MORNING JOURNALS; UPON PERUSING WHICH, EACH READER IS EXPECTED TO WRAP HIMSELF UP IN THE AMERICAN FLAG AND SHAKE HIS FIST AT COMBINED EUROPE.
WASHINGTON, D.C., April 4th, 1865.
To loud huzzas our flag ascends, as climbs a flame the dizzy mast,while all its burning glory bends from where the planets seal it fast;and, pliant to the chainless winds, a blazing sheet, a lurid scroll,the Compact of the Stars it binds in fire that warms a nation's soul!
All of which, my boy, is the poetry of that banner whose union of astarry section of evening with the hues of dawn and sunset makes it avery good marriage-certificate of the wedding of old Mr. Day and theWidow Night. (Let us hope that Mr. Day will never be without a sun.)
And do you ask me wherefore I thus burst into red-hot song?--whereforeI inflict further verses upon a flag already washed almost to pieces ina freshet of poet's tears?--wherefore I jingle rhymes of Bostonianseverity at the commencement of an epistle whose readers may not all beEmersons?
Know, then, my boy, that the chant is to celebrate the conquest of theancient City of Paris, which, for many years past, has actually waxedprosperous against Mackerel strategy, but now rests a prize beneaththat glorious bunting which we all like to see our poor relations diefor: beneath that ensign of freedom for which every man of us wouldwillingly sacrifice his life, did he not feel that his first great dutywas to his helpless family, who like to have him stay at home and takethem to the opera.
O my country!--sublime in thy wounds, chivalrous in thy triumph, morethan royal in the kingless magnificence of thine undauntedpower;--forget not the patriots who have stayed at home on account oftheir families; for surely such a disinterested and generaldemonstration of domestic virtue seems to indicate that our policeforce is uselessly large.
Let me not, however, waste time in national boasting, while thecrowning result of consummate Mackerel strategy demands of me thatnarrating exercise of the pen without which even brigadiers might failto receive public credit for deeds after the manner of Napoleon.
Retrace, my boy, to the happy days of your youth, and you may rememberthat I once described the ancient city of Paris as a house founded upona bar-room and surrounded by warlike settlements of Confederacies. Herewere collected all the lemons, glassware, sugar, spoons, and cloves ofthe sunny South; and--though all else were lost--while these remainedto them, the Confederacies were still unbroken in spirits and onlyspoke of Columbia to observe: "She may attack our chivalrous banner ofStars and Bars, and capture all the stars if she pleases; but while ourBars remain, we shall still be able to liquor." Therefore it is, thatthe aged and aristocratic city of Paris has stubbornly brought to griefso many of our admirable brass-buttoned generals, several of whom arenow enjoying that unblemished obscurity which ungrateful republics areapt to bestow upon unappreciated greatness.
On the day succeeding the sanguinary affair of Fort Bledandide, my boy,while notes of busy preparation were rising from all parts of theMackerel camp, one of our pickets was awakened by the sound of manyequestrians riding over his body, and immediately put on his spectaclesto discern whether they were friends or foes. The inspection lasteduntil one skeleton charger had stepped upon his canteen; whereupon theMackerel picket discovered that the new-comers were the Anatomicalcavalry, under Captain Samyule Sa-mith, just returned from operationsin Confederate railway stock, which they had raised so far above par asto give it a very decided mar.
Proudly rode Samyule at the head of his triumphant bone-works, and thejingle of their spurs and sabres was like unto the collision of manytin pans. Gayly rode they to headquarters, and, says Samyule, "Sire, wehave interrupted the railway travel of the Southern Confederacy for theseason; and obliterated the tracks of treason, that it may no longerrail against us. Further depot-nent saith not."
The General of the Mackerel Brigade laid aside his accordion, and sayshe:
"My sons, I would that every earthly foe to our distracted banner couldat this moment be placed on board a railway train in any part of thiscountry. Because, says the General, thoughtfully, "a ride on anAmerican railway train of cars is foreordained car-nage."
After this speech, my boy, it was generally allowed that the Mackerelcommander was even with Samyule; and as the Anatomical Cavalry sweptoff to the left to flank the unseemly Confederacies defending Paris,the main body of the venerable brigade, under Captain Villiam Brown andCaptain Bob Shorty, commenced strategical designs on that city.
Thus early in the engagement a bloodthirsty Confederacy had succeededin training a fowling-piece from behind a chimney on the roof of Paris,greatly worrying our troops with dried beans, and the Orange CountyHowitzers were already concentrated upon him with a view to cutting offhis legs; when there suddenly appeared within our lines a maiden,stricken in years, with a white plush bonnet, a green silk umbrella,and the ninety-ninth number of the History of this War under one arm.She waved a hand toward the Mackerels nearest her, and says she:
"On, to Paris! On, to Paris! or a decimated and indignant country,acting on the predictions in the ninety-ninth number of the mostaccurate History of the War now sold to subscribers only, willindignantly demand that EVERYBODY be at once removed!"
Here the General of the Mackerel Brigade made his appearance from therear, and says he:
"What do you desire, Miss P. Hen?"
"On, to Paris!" shrieked the maiden. "On, to the capital of thebrutalized dealers in human flesh and blood, and drag them to thescaffold!" Here Miss P. Hen drew a long breath, and says she, "Let'shave no vacillating."
"All right, Mamsell," says the General.
"And the country'd have more confidence in _you_," says Miss P. Hen,vigorously, "if you'd stop chewing that nasty tobacco, which is onlyfit for brutes and dealers in human flesh and blood. On, to Paris!or"--
At this juncture, my boy, the aged Miriam caught sight of theConservative Kentucky Chap, haranguing against her down the Accomacroad, and toddled furiously away to chastise him with her umbrella.
Meanwhile, the Orange County Howitzers had sent some pounds of shrapnelin the direction of the hostile Confederacy on the roof; and as thebricks began to fly from the chimney, and the dried beans came atlonger intervals, Regiment 5 of the Mackerel Brigade moved nearer tothe beleaguered capital, and opened an effective fire of musketry uponthe azure zenith. Captain Villiam Brown was about to order an assault,when certain windows in the upper stories of Paris were thrown up, andthere rained therefrom such a hurtling tempest of stew-pans,hearth-brushes, shaving-cups, and boxes of blacking, that hundreds ofMackerel spectacles were broken. Simultaneously the sanguinaryConfederacy on the roof put a double charge of dried beans through thecoat-tails of Captain Bob Shorty, and our troops--"the object of thereconnoissance being fully accomplished"--withdrew in good order totheir former position.
Quickly, thereupon, appeared a canvas banner from the garret windows ofParis, inscribed: "Chalk up the First Round for the SouthernConfederacy!" and the first day's fight was over.
All that night, my boy, did the venerable Mackerel Brigade lay upontheir arms, finding all their hands asleep, in consequence, whenmorning broke; and as often as a venturesome Confederacy skulked nearFort Bledandide to steal a cannon, just so often did one Mackerelpicket nudge another Mackerel picket and ask him if he didn't think heheard something.
At last there came a gradual hush over everything, as though the wholeworld were an antechamber to a room in which rested some dear sickchild. Then the sharp edges of this terrestrial bowl in which we hangover the sun at night began to define themselves all around, as thoughan early candle had just been brought underneath to light the fire. Andat last a slowly-deepening lurid glow appeared around the sides of thebowl, as though the fire was just getting a start. It was morning.
Fearful that if I go on i
n that strain any longer, some sentimentalPhiladelphian may carry me off by main force to write for the "Lady'sBook," let me call your notice to the extreme left of the Mackerelline, where Captain Samyule Sa-mith and the Anatomical Cavalry,supported by Sergeant O'Pake and Regiment 3, were formed in line ofbattle, facing certain rickety Confederacies under Captain Munchausen.
"Comrades," says Samyule, vainly attempting to keep the hind-legs ofhis anatomical steed from trying to surround the twofore-legs--"comrades, one blow, and Syracuse is free! For-r-ward!"
But what is this, starting up, as from the ground, right in the path ofwhat else had been the most exorbitant cavalry charge on record? It isthe aged Miss P. Hen, with her white plush bonnet much mashed from arecent severe single combat with the Conservative Kentucky Chap, andthe ninety-ninth number of the History of the War still unsold. She atea Graham biscuit, and says she:
"Just once--I only want to say just once, that everybody is a-howlingat me like wolves, and abusing me, because I said 'On to Paris.' So Iwant to say, just once, that I never, never will say one word about thewar again, no matter how much you want me to. Now there's no use ofyour asking me, because I never, never will!"
And she hoisted her green silk umbrella and stalked grimly from thefield, like the horrid, apparition of a nervous widower's dream.
"Really," says Samyule, irritably, "I don't think there's any othercountry where old women would be allowed on the field of battle withoutepaulets on their shoulders. But let us proceed with the war," saysSamyule, earnestly, "or we shall not get through in time for our comingconflict with combined Europe."
Loud ring the bugles, my boy, on either side, as when two chivalrouscocks crow defiance to each other from neighboring roosts; andpresently two rival circus-companies met in tremendous collision withtwo-up and two-down, two over and two under:guard--parry--feint--thrust! Twick, thwack, slam, bang; click-click,click-click, click-click; chip, chop, higgledy-piggledy, crush, crowd,and helter-skelter.
"Let me get at you, foul Hessian!" roared the hairy Munchausen, withhis horse hopping sideways in every direction.
"Die in thy sins!" shouted the excited Samyule, taking a slide towardhis charger's ears, as that spirited animal ecstatically waved hishinder feet in the air.
"Coward, thou would'st fly me!" ejaculated Munchausen, just as hisArabian got a-straddle of a caisson.
"You are my prisoner!" thundered Samyule, endeavoring to restrain hisblooded courser from climbing a tree near by.
"Beg for your life!" howled Munchausen, frantically clasping his armsabout the neck of his Hambletonian colt as they went skipping againstan ambulance together.
"Say thy last prayer!" yelled Samyule, backing frenziedly into themiddle of the Christian Commission.
"This to thy heart!" screamed Munchausen, disappearing in a ditch.
"Victory!" ejaculated Samyule, rolling down a hill.
And the second day's fighting was ended.
Night again upon the battle-field. The wearied soldier, as he seeks afew hours of repose upon the damp and dreary ground, wonders what thepeople of the great patriotic cities will think of the battle of theday; whether they are indeed unspeakably proud and fond of the menperilling and losing their lives that the nation may live? Oh, believeit, thou most innocent of heroes; for is it not so written in all ourexcellent morning journals? Put no trust in the Satyrs who tell theethat thy countrymen at home, in the exultation of victory, hold theeonly as an unconsidered part of the dumb and blind machine which hoiststhy captain to eminence. Yet would I have thee turn thy fairest hope,thy perfect faith, to that one spot of all the world where kneelsto-night some fond, familiar form; where loving hands are humblyuplifted for an absent one, and quivering lips implore, AlmightyFather, guard him still!
Now tremble, earth, and shake, ye friendly spheres, for the MackerelBrigade, glittering with spectacles and gorgeous with red neckties andgold watches, advances for a third round with the unblushingConfederacies of Paris, several of whom are on the roof with duck-gunsin their hands and slaughter in their hearts. As I gaze upon thewonderful scene through my bit of smoked glass, the Orange CountyHowitzers burst into a roar, not unlike a Dutch chorus, and the sun isin momentary danger of being hit.
To speak once more in a past tense:--Forward rolled the Mackerel tideof battle the whole length of the line, with skirmishers thrown out tocatch Confederate chickens, and the deadly peal of treason's duck-gunmingled hoarsely with the angry bang of loyalty's random musket.Heading Regiment 5, and mounted on his geometrical steed, Euclid,Captain Villiam Brown essayed a daring charge at the front door ofParis; while Captain Bob Shorty, with a portion of the Conic Sectionjust arrived from Accomac, thundered toward the window of the firstfloor; but here a female Confederacy opened a heavy fire of pokers andgridirons from the basement, and there was too much danger to thespectacles of the ancient Brigade to warrant persistence in the boldattempt.
Far to the left, with his eyes blazing like the ends of two cigars, andhis nose glowing like a transparent strawberry, Captain Samyule Sa-mithgot himself and his celebrated horse-marines so ingeniously entangledand mixed up with Captain Munchausen's and everybody else's command,that the Schleswig-Holstein question was a very ordinary conundrum incomparison, and the fight in that part of the field bade fair to lastfor a few years without much definite carnage.
Then, again, on the calm waters of Duck Lake (now too deep for wadingin consequence of recent rains), that hoary old salt, Rear AdmiralHead, unhooked his famous flagship, the "Shockingbadhat," and set outwith his improved swivel-gun and agile Mackerel crew to take a hand inthe carnival of conquest.
"Loosen my plates!" swore the aged son of Neptune in his iron-cladmanner, as he adjusted his spectacles and extracted a slow-match fromone corner of his snuff-box,--"Loosen my plates! but the navy must killa few Confederate insects,--bark my turret, if it mustn't."
It was really beautiful, my boy, to see an iron-clad tar of such greatage light the slow-match with his own meerschaum, and aim the improvedartillery directly at the rear-elevation of a Confederacy tying hisshoe in one of the side windows of Paris.
Ker-bang! went the triumph of naval ingenuity, causing the flag-ship tohop only a few inches into the air; and a Confederacy with amputatedcoat-tails was instantly seen to spin wildly around and rub himselflike one in a bath.
Not to sicken you, my boy, with too much of such heart-rendingslaughter, let me say that a dense cloud of sulphurous smoke soonentirely veiled the doomed City of Paris, into which the strategicalMackerels continued for hours to pour such torrents of lead as nonumber of windows could stand. Finally, as night approached, a personof black extraction, with wool on the brain, emerged from the cloudquite close to Villiam, and says he:
"De place hab surrender, sah."
"Ah!" says Villiam, pulling out his ruffles, "is the conflick too muchfor the scorpions?"
The faithful black arranged a silver cake-basket more firmly under hiscoat, and says he:
"Dey's all gone over Jordan."
Wild were the cheers that rent the air at this intelligence, and rightquickly were our national troops marching into the bar-room of capturedParis, to the inspiring strains of "Drops of Brandy," from thenight-key bugle of the Mackerel band. Our distracted banner, too, wasjust being raised triumphantly upon the roof, when there suddenlyemerged, from the shadow of the rear-guard, Miss P. Hen, leaningtrustfully upon the arm of the Conservative Kentucky Chap!
"Now," says she, vivaciously, "is the very moment for the President tosave our bleeding and bankrupt people, by paying four hundred millionsof dollars to the sunny South for her losses in this war, and offeringher such terms as may induce her to make that peace which is absolutelynecessary to close the most accurate History of the War now sold tosubscribers only."
Pause, my boy, ere you execrate the venerable Miss P. Hen; for there ismore than one fidgety old lady tendering advice to the Government atthis crisis; and the sisterhood is not without members who wear yourown style of costume
.
Yours, carefully,
ORPHEUS C. KERR.