LETTER CIX.
WHICH ENDETH THE THIRD VOLUME OF THIS INEXPRESSIBLY VERACIOUS HISTORY OF THE WAR; AND SHOWETH HOW A GREAT REPUBLIC FINALLY OVERCAME ITS SURPASSINGLY MENDACIOUS FOES, AND HOW IT EVINCES ITS UNSPEAKABLE GRATITUDE TO PROVIDENCE FOR SUCH A VICTORY.
WASHINGTON, D.C., April 11th, 1865.
Look, my boy, upon the east wall of my luxurious presence-chamber, andmark how I have maliciously pasted thereon a map of besotted Europe;with all its capitals, rivers, mountains, and inland puddles laid downwith an accuracy and multitudinosity to forever enlighten and utterlyconfound every sniffing little schoolboy-geographer in the land. What ashapeless chunk of inferior dirt is Europe! How like a minute andfeeble skiptail does it appear, when compared with our own giganticstraddlebug of a country! Yet has the skiptail ventured to interfereoffensively in the private affairs of the straddlebug; and theinterference, and the private affairs, and the possible upshot of thewhole matter, remind me forcibly of a spirited little event which onceoccurred in the Sixth Ward.
The male and female Michael O'Korrigan, my boy, occupied a spaciousapartment on the fine, airy, eighth floor of the sumptuous MaisonMulligan in that celebrated Ward, and for several years the course oftheir true love ran so smoothly that it became hopelessly insipid andexasperating to all the old maids for blocks around. Nothing was everequal to the peaceful unity of the male and female O'Korrigan; and didMichael find it necessary, in the course of some friendly discussionwith a neighbor on the stairs, to call for a hatchet till he broke theugly nose of the spalpeen, it was the wife of his bosom that handed himhis own bit of a stick, and joined in the argument herself with a pokerfor a referee. But nothing's perfect in this world except the wisdom ofowls and Congressmen, and Mrs. O'Korrigan's military virtues andwholesome command of her husband had the slight drawback of aconstitutional taste for poteen. Michael expostulated with her by thehair, and remonstrated with her by the shoulders, and plead with herover the head; but all to no purpose; and he was greatly assisted andcomforted by a bit of a preacher named Father O'Tod, who took care ofeverybody's virtue except his own. It was Father O'Tod that sat downbeside her quite pious and comfortable, and
"Ailey," says he, "it's clane disgusted I am at heart," says he, "tosee a wake crature of the hen sex," says he, "a-cackling over a basteof a black bottle as if it was a fresh egg," says he. "And Ailey," sayshe, "if your husband was anything but a wake-minded bouchal of a man,"says he, "it's with a bit of crab-thorn that he'd be persuadin' ye togive it up for good," says he.
"Oh, sorra the day," says she, "that I'm not behoolden to yerriverence," says she, "for such illigant advice," says she; "but it'smeself that's accountable to somebody else than yerself and MichaelO'Korrigan," says she, "for what I do," says she. "Do ye mind that,Father O'Tod?" says she. "And when I'm afther takin' a drop for thegood of me health," says she, "I don't bother any one," says she; "butstay shut up in my own room," says she, "and only ask to be let alone,"says she.
Now it chanced that Mr. O'Korrigan, being invited by Father O'Tod, andespecially aggrieved by having one of his best Sunday shoes coollyappropriated as a sort of fanciful leathern case for the aforesaidblack bottle, finally resolved to at least recapture his property, and,mayhap, spill the poteen. So he placed the hair of his head in Mrs.O'Korrigan's left hand, and scraped his nose against the nails of herright, and was enjoying himself very much, when Father O'Tod came in,and
"Michael agrah," says he, "it's spaichless with horrors I am," says he,"to see ye brawling with yer own wife," says he, "and she a woman,"says he.
"The marcy of Heaven on me!" says Mike, says he; "but isn't it yer ownself," says he, "that's been advisin' me by the year," says he, "tostop her poteen?" says he.
"It's not the desthruction of the poteen yer after at all," says FatherO'Tod, says he; "but only to wrinch from her," says he, "an owldbrogan," says he, "that ye'd be as well without," says he.
Just at this moment Mr. O'Korrigan managed to get possession of thebrogan referred to, and was commencing to use it most potently as aninstrument of wholesome matrimonial correction, when the scuffledisplaced the unfortunate black bottle from the pocket of Mrs.O'Korrigan, and it fell to the floor and--broke into fifty pieces.
"It's accident that did that," says Father O'Tod, says he, "and notyerself at all, Michael O'Korrigan," says he; "and it's not myself,"says he, "that'll give aither of ye pardon," says he. "But I'm l'anin'to Ailey," says he, "and it's masses I'll say for her," says he, "ifshe's bate to death," says he.
"Ailey, avourneen," says Mike, says he, "the bottle's broke," says he,"and I've got me brogan," says he, "and ye may keep the rest," says he,"if ye'll make up," says he.
"Michael, darlint," says she, "ye can place yer big mout' in the middleof me faychures," says she; "but as for Father O'Tod," says she, "it'sachin' I am to comb his hypocritical hair," says she, "with a poker,"says she.
"Ailey, me angel," says Mike, says he, "it'll be showin' our gratitudeto Saint Payter," says he, "that we an't both kilt intirely," says he,"lavin' aich other orphans," says he, "if we just slather the owldhumbug together," says he.
So they both fell upon Father O'Tod with a heartiness not to bedescribed, and that excellent and neutral old gentleman was much mussedin his linen.
Far be it from me, my boy, to say that combined Europe, and especiallythe step-mother country, is at all like Father O'Tod, or that Slaveryin the remotest degree resembles a small black bottle; but interferencein the quarrels of married folks is apt to excite the liveliest enmityof both parties, and two-against-one has been known to result quitespiritedly therefrom.
Therefore, let the skiptail of Europe beware! for even I, an humblehistorian and no warrior, am filled with that spirit of defiance toeverything across the Atlantic which might serve to inspire abrigadier, the editor of an able morning journal, a fierce turkey-cock,or any other type of matchless valor. One week ago, this Americanbreast of mine was wild for the immediate redemption of lovely Ireland,by reason of the marvellous and triumphant capture of Paris by thethrice-valiant Mackerel Brigade; and to-day such an accession ofnational triumph stares all through the columns of our more stentorianmorning journals, that I demand the immediate disenthrallment fromforeign tyrants of Hungary, Poland, Venetia, Mexico, Canada, JerseyCity, and the Guano Islands.
Munchausen, my boy, has surrendered! That mirror of chivalry andhollow-eyed wanderer in a forest of whiskers has yielded to his nobledesire for a piece--of something to eat, and gracefully permittedhimself and his command to be wooed from their guidingstar,--starvation.
Immediately after the unprecedented battle for Paris, and while yet theagitated Miss P. Hen and divers enterprising political chaps who hadfollowed our troops were organizing a Republican caucus in the bar-roomof the captured capital, the unconquerable Mackerel Brigade pushed onafter the unseemly Confederacies, with a view to further carnage. Not astump of a tree was seen but it was at once taken for Mr. Davishimself, and had the direful Orange County Howitzers concentrated uponit; yet such dangers did not deter our venerable Mackerel boys fromtheir assigned pursuit, and ere long their glittering spectaclessurrounded a goodly swamp, wherein were perceptible the caitiffConfederacies up to their chins in the sacred soil. With only theirheads above the mud, these sons of chivalry looked not unlike a vastcabbage-patch romantically viewed by twilight; while far up thevegetable vista glowed the eyes of Captain Munchausen, like those of anirascible Thomas cat who sees a dog down the lane.
Pitching his tent in a spot where no vagrant stone could reach it, theGeneral of the Mackerel Brigade took off his coat and vest, rolled upthe legs of his inexpressibles, and commenced the following
CORRESPONDENCE.
MUNCHAUSEN, _Southern Confederacy_:
"SIR,--The result of the last strategical combat between us must convince you of the hopelessness of further military confusion in this country. I feel that it is so, and consider it my duty to shift from myself the responsibility of further carn
age by asking of you the surrender of that portion of the sunny South known as the Southern Confederacy.
"THE GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE.
("Green Seal.")
You may observe, my boy, that the remark: "I feel that it is so," doesnot make the strongest kind of connection with the preceding sentence;but great warriors are apt to be shaky in their rhetoric; and theConfederacy responded thus:
"GEN. MACK. BRIG.:
"SIRRAH,--Though repelling with scorn the vandal insinuation that further military confusion on my part is hopeless, I agree with you as to the stoppage of further carnage, and desire to know upon what terms you will haul the celebrated Southern Confederacy out of this swamp.
"MUNCHAUSEN X his mark."
(This chivalrous manner of signing a name with a Cross is a knightlyexpression of profound piety, descended from the ancient crusaders tothe Southern chivalry of the present day.)
To the above epistle the General thus replied:
"MUNCHAUSEN, _Southern Confederacy_:
"SIR,--I propose to receive the surrender of the well-known Southern Confederacy on the following terms:
"Fresh rolls for all the officers and men to be made at once, and the boots of the Southern Confederacy to be blacked by officers duly appointed by the United States of America. All the officers to give their individual pay rolls, that they may be cashed by the United States. Such public and private property as has been stolen by the well-known Southern Confederacy to be turned over to the police-officers appointed to take charge of it.
"Each officer will be permitted to retain both of his arms, and, together with the men, is expected to return calmly to his family, and not commit assault upon the United States of America without due provocation.
"THE GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE.
("Green Seal.")
It is related in tradition, that when the knightly Munchausen receivedthis epistle, he laughed horribly for the space of at least half anhour, as though greatly rejoiced at a bit of unparalleled waggishness.After which he delivered himself of four sinister winks at nothing,simultaneously exclaiming:
"By Chivalry! here's magnanimity."
After which he wrote thus:
"GEN. MACK. BRIG.:
"SIRRAH,--I have received your scrawl of this date, containing what may be denominated terms of first-class board for the celebrated Southern Confederacy. Inasmuch as said terms give me rather more advantage than half a dozen strategical victories over your vandals could possibly have procured for us, I hereby permit you to capture us at once, in order to avoid further carnage in your ranks.
"MUNCHAUSEN X his mark."
Other letters incidental to this business passed between the twopaladins, my boy; but as the letters of all great men are proverbialfor their great dignity and heaviness, and are immensely calculated toincline readers to untimely repose, I have spared you the infliction.Suffice it to say, that when Captain Villiam Brown read the Mackerelterms of surrender, he spasmodically applied his lips to a canteen,with the air of one who takes poison because the butcher's daughter hasrefused to be won by his manly shape.
"Ah!" says Villiam, "such magnanimity!"
Captain Bob Shorty was playing Old Sledge with three members of theSanitary Commission when the document arrived.
"By all that's Federal!" says Captain Bob Shorty, "it appears to me--itreally appears to me, Villiam, that I never see so much magnanimity!"
They took it to Captain Samyule Sa-mith as he sat by the roadside,straightening his highly-tempered sabre with a stone.
"I cannot always agree entirely with my brother officers on allpoints," says Samyule, reflectively, "for some of them are ineddicated:but I find in this document great magnanimity!"
Magnanimity, my boy, is the revenge of generous minds; as the venerablemale parent feelingly observed when he made over his whole property tothe interesting son who had just tried to poison him by putting arsenicinto his coffee, and expressed an intention to burn him to death in hisbed that night.
The glorious news of the surrender had no sooner reached the city ofParis than the aged and gifted Miss P. Hen organized an enthusiasticmass meeting of the decrepit Union element, and a speaker's stand wasquickly erected, over which floated a banner inscribed
REGULAR MAGNANIMOUS NOMINATION
FOR
PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES
IN 1869,
_COLORADO JEWETT_.
The meeting being called to order, Miss P. Hen came to the front withher umbrella, and addressed the populace. She stated that this meetingwas designed for no political purpose, but only to show Providence thata great nation knows how to be grateful for victory. Now was the timeto heed the heart-sobs and gushing soul-pangs of the misguidedConfederacies, and receive back all the Rebel leaders with kisses ontheir penitent noses. As for our present President, he meant well;but--
The speaker was suddenly interrupted by a burst of fifes and drumscoming up the Accomac road, and right quickly there appeared aprocession of political chaps with immense stomachs, from Chicago, whocarried a fine banner inscribed:
REPUBLICAN NOMINATION
FOR
PRESIDENT IN 1869,
THE
_GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE_.
At this apparition Miss P. Hen ate a Graham biscuit with greataccerbity of bearing, and was about to go on with her _Te Deum_, when afleshy Chicago chap lightly jumped upon the platform and pushed thevenerable maiden aside. He said that no scheme of politics brought themtogether this time: but a humble, heartfelt wish to thank a benignantHeaven for the downfall of a mighty people's enemies. As for the chiefof those enemies, the Rebel leaders, they must every one of them behanged without mercy, or justice might as well be ignored forever. Thepresent President was too--
At this moment the hum of an approaching multitude drowned all othersounds, and there advanced from the rear of Paris a great band ofhigh-moral citizens, with a banner announcing
UNION NOMINATION
FOR
PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES
IN 1869.
_OUR UNCLE ABE_.[7]
Forward surged this new audience toward the platform, and both Miss P.Hen and the Chicago chap had recommenced their hymns of gratitude, whenan athletic citizen from Baltimore made a dash for the front railingand eloquently addressed the meeting. He was proud to see such aglorious concourse assembled, for no wrangling party object, but solelyto unite in thankfulness to a greater than all earthly powers for theblessing of returning peace. To make that peace permanent and solid,--
[7] Four days after the date of this letter, ABRAHAM LINCOLN--the wise, the just, the merciful--fell beneath the dastard blow of an ignoble assassin! All that is beautiful and good in the world must mourn his irreparable loss; and I need not say how consoling it is to me in this dark hour to feel, that, in all my extravagances of nonsense, I have never penned one word concerning the Martyr-President that was not inspired by a sentiment of actual affection for his genial and guileless character. Thank God! his eternally-infamous murderer came of a line not native to my country!
O. C. K.
Here Miss P. Hen got to the front and brought down her umbrella withawful violence upon the bare head of the speaker, and says she: "I'mthe Republican party myself!"
"I beg your pardon, miss," says the Baltimore citizen, hotly, "but_I'm_ the Republican party!"
"You're both impostors!" roared the Chicago chap, scientificallysquaring-off; "for I'M the Republican party!"
Crash goes the platform; down tumble the banners. Fists are plungingwildly in all directions, while such howls and screams arise from thetempest as though pandemonium were let loose to run a gamut ofdiabolical sounds.
Seated upon a barrel a short distance off, I was taking a deepin
terest, through my bit of smoked glass, in this scene of excitingNational Thanksgiving, when a strange ringing noise, or lively bellow,and a sharp crash very unexpectedly sounded above the din, and, onlooking up, I beheld the Conservative Kentucky chap joyously dancingupon the roof of Paris, with a huge dinner-bell in his right hand, anda smoking three-pounder beside him.
"Hooray!" shouted the Conservative Kentucky chap, blissfully standingon one leg. "Go in! That's the style! Sic 'em! Sic 'em! Hit 'em again,boys. Hem!" says the Conservative chap, with delirious enthusiasm;"this here sort of thing in the enemy's camp is just the ticket for ourNational Democratic Organization, of which I am the large Kentuckybranch!"
Turn away your eyes, my boy, from such scenes as these, and look withme along that hill-side yonder, where the gentle sun casts histenderest beams upon the new spring grass. You see there are irregularmounds scattered all the way up the slope,--hundreds,--hundreds!Beneath them sleep the brave, the beautiful, the wept of the patriothome. Their loyal blood, poured in a fervid river to the twilight oceanof Eternity, has washed a pollution from our Flag, a blot from ourescutcheon; and, oh! that it had also borne hence upon its purifyingcurrent that unholy, shifting beacon of political discord, which everlures our Ship of State toward the breakers.
Yours, reverently,
ORPHEUS C. KERR.