The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers, Series 2
LETTER LXI.
PORTRAYING A SOCIAL EFFECT OF THE POSTAGE-STAMP CURRENCY, DESCRIBING THE GREAT WAR MEETING IN ACCOMAC, RECORDING THE LATEST EXPLOIT OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE, AND INTRODUCING A DRAFTING ITEM.
WASHINGTON, D. C., August 9th, 1862.
If tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep, should ever take it intoher head to invade our distracted country, she would meet with lessresistance in Washington than it is possible for the able-bodied mindto comprehend. Notwithstanding the fact that President Lincoln is anhonest man, my boy, the genius of Slumber has opened a large wholesaleestablishment here, and the tendency to repose is so general that theauthorities are just able to wink at secession sympathizers. It takesso long to get the news of the war from New York, that our citizensgrow languid in the intervals. On Monday, indeed, an enterprising chapfrom Nantucket opened a Museum on the outskirts of the town, by way ofvarying the monotony, and quite a numerous crowd assembled to witnessthe performance. This Museum comprises a real two shilling piece,inclosed in a strong glass case, to preserve it from the violence ofthe mob, and even respectable old married men go to see it, for thesake of past associations. On the occasion of my visit to this uniqueestablishment I arrived shortly before the exhibition began, and founda brilliant array of beauty and fashion for an audience. It was quiteinteresting, my boy, to hear the conversation going on. There was afine young chap just in front of me who has recently been appointed tothe staff of the Commander-in-Chief in consequence of his greatexperience in the coal business, and says he to another Lubin'sExtracts chap:
"Fwedwick, who is that wavishing creatchah ovah they-ar, with thePeach-Orchard eyes and Lehigh hair?"
"Aw, dimmy," says Lubin's Extracts, "that's the great heiress. She'sworth eighty thousand postage-stamps."
"The wed kind?" says the young staff-chap, eagerly--"is it the stickywed kind, Fwed?"
"No," says Lubin's Extracts, scornfully; "it's the green ten cent kind."
"Intwojoose me," says the staff-chap, excitedly--"intwojoose me, Fwed;I must know her--upon my soul I must."
Upon his soul, my boy--he said upon his _soul_! When it is possible foran introduction to take place upon such a soul as that, my boy, it willbe comparatively able to manoeuvre an elephant brigade on the extremepoint of an infant needle.
When the manager of the Museum came out to lecture upon his greatnatural curiosity, there was immediate silence; and when the case wasuncovered, revealing the quarter to full view, several very oldgentlemen fainted! Alas! they remembered the time when--but no matternow--no matter now.
"Ladies and gentlemen," says the manager, pointing solemnly to histreasure, "the rare and beautiful coin which you now behold was wellknown to our forefathers, who stamped the figure of Liberty upon it, inorder to show the world that this is the only country where man is atLiberty to deal in slaves by way of financial speculation. This rarecoin disappeared as soon as the Liberty I speak of seemed to beendangered, nor will it reappear in this country again while there areso many brokers ahead."
On quitting this admirable exhibition, my boy, I did not return to thiscity, but went immediately down to Accomac, to attend the great Unionmeeting. Accomac, my boy, has at length determined that this war shallbe vigorously carried on, even if it takes several public speakers tosay so; and the conduct of Accomac, in calling a meeting for such apurpose, reminds me of a chap in the Sixth Ward.
He was a respectable family chap, who had formed a partnership with allhis neighbors for the express purpose of taking entire and exclusivecharge of their business for them, and evinced such a deep interest inthe most private affairs of his friends, that absence did not conquertheir love for him. One Sunday there was a city missionary at thechurch he attended, who implored the aid and prayers of thecongregation in behalf of a poor but pious family, who were starving todeath around the corner. "Hev any tracts been left with our sufferingfrens?" says the respectable chap, rising in his pew and pinching hisbenevolent chin thoughtfully. "Yes," says the missionary, sadly, "wesent them some tracts on the immortality of the soul; but, horrible torelate, they gained no flesh by them." The respectable chap, who was abaker by profession, was much moved by this revelation of humandepravity, and says he to a bald-headed chap in the next pew: "BrotherJones, you must attend to this sad case in the morning. We mustremember our fellow-beings in affliction, Brother Jones. Early to-morrowyou must take some bread to this suffering family. If you have no breadof your own, Brother Jones," says the respectable chap, feelingly,"come to my shop and I--I will sell you some for this charitablepurpose." But Brother Jones proved to be a grievous backslider, my boy,and said he had an engagement to go to Hoboken on the morning inquestion. "Very well," says the respectable chap, when he heard this,"then I will arrange it in another way. Tell our starving brothers andsisters to have faith," says he to the missionary, in a heartfeltmanner, "and they shall be fed, even as the ravings fed my old friendElijah." So, the next day he called a meeting of brethren to pray thatfood might be sent to the suffering ones, and they used up the entireEnglish language in prayer to such an extent, that when the respectablechap topped off with a benediction, he had to introduce some Latinquotations. They had just finished this noble work of Christianbenevolence, when the missionary came tearing in, and says he: "It'sall over; they're all dead; the last child starved to death half anhour ago." The respectable chap stared at him aghast, and says he: "Didyou tell them to have faith?" The missionary cracked a peanut, and sayshe: "Verily, I did; but they said they couldn't have faith on emptystomachs." The respectable chap pondered a while, and says he: "If theydidn't have faith, my frens, the whole matter is explained. We, atleast, have done our duty. We have prayed for them, frens--we haveprayed for them." And the brethren went home to their dinners.
Public mass meetings, my boy, to help a struggling country, are likeprayer-meetings to aid the starving poor; the intention is good, butthe practical benefit resulting therefrom is not visible to the nakedeye.
There was a large meeting at Accomac, several new liquor-shops havingbeen opened there recently, and the speakers were as eloquent as it ispossible for men to be when advising other men to do what they don'tcare to do themselves. A chap of large abdominal developments wasspecially fervid. Says he: "Let us show to them as is tyrants andreveling in the agonies of down-trodden Europe, that this Republic isable to put down all enemies whatsomever, without interfering with anyof the inalienable rights of those who, though our enemies, are stillour long-lost brothers. (Frantic applause.) Shall it be said thattwenty-two millions of people cannot put down eight millions withoutinjuring those eight millions? (Shrieks of approbation, and cries of"That's so!") No! a thousand times no! We fight, not to injure theSouth; not to interfere with them, which is our own flesh and blood,but to sustain the Constitution rendered sacred by Revolutionary gore!(Overwhelming enthusiasm.) The creatures which is trying to break upthis here beneficent Government, ask us what we are fighting for, then?Gracious hevings! what a question is this! Do they not know what we arefighting for--that in this unhappy struggle we--that our purpose, Iwould say, in prosecuting hostilities is to--is to--DO IT? Of course itis."
This speech, short, terse, and to the purpose, was gloriously receivedby everybody, except a friendless chap, who said he didn't understandthe last clause; and he was immediately sent to jail for daring to beso traitorously obtuse.
Though the General of the Mackerel Brigade was seated upon the highestbarrel on the platform, my boy, and blew his nose louder than any oneelse, he did not wish to be seen, nor did he intend that the assemblageshould call upon him for the speech sticking out of his side-pocket;but when the throng accidentally found him to be the most prominentfigure in sight, they thoughtlessly called upon him to say something.The General laid aside his fan with some embarrassment, and says he:
"My children, I love you. My children," says the General, motioning tohis aid to fill the tumbler agai
n, "I daresay you expect me to saysomething, and though I am unprepared to speak, there is one thing Iwill say. If anything goes wrong in this war, nobody is to blame, as Ialone am responsible. Bless you, my children."
As the idol of the populace finished these touching remarks, andresumed his tumbler and fan, there was but one sentiment in the wholeof that vast assemblage, and a democratic chap immediately went andtelegraphed to Syracuse that the prospect for a Democratic President in1865, was beautiful.
The meeting might have lasted another week, my boy, thereby renderingthe Union cause utterly invincible, but for the imprudence of an insanechap who proposed that some of the young men present should enlist.This malapropos and singularly inconsistent suggestion broke up theassemblage at once, in great disorder--volunteering being just the lastthing that any one thought of doing. Greatly edified and encouraged bywhat I had heard, my boy, I made all haste for Paris, where I found theMackerel Brigade and Commodore Head's fleet in great excitement overthe case of an Irish gentleman who believed this to be a white man'swar, and had started for Paris, just fourteen minutes after landing inthis country, for the express purpose of protesting against any laborbeing performed by negroes, while there were white men to do it.Colonel Wobert Wobinson, of the Anatomical Cavalry, quieted him bysaying that, although a number of negroes were then engaged in diggingtrenches, a new line of holes in a far more unhealthy place would becommenced in the morning, and that none but Irishmen should bepermitted to dig them.
On the night previous to my arrival, my boy, while all the Mackerelswere watching the stars with a view to prevent any surprise from thatquarter, the Southern Confederacy on the other side of Duck Laketrained four large fowling-pieces upon their peaceful camp from behinda wood-pile, and commenced a ferocious and ear-splitting bombardment.It was some hours before our men could be got into position to returnthe fire, as Captain Bob Shorty had forgotten where they had put theOrange County Howitzers when last using them. The fleet, too, wassomewhat delayed in getting into action, as Commodore Head experiencedsome difficulty in unlocking the box into which he always puts hisspectacles and slow-match before retiring at night.
Finally, however, the howitzers were discovered behind some boards, andthe spectacles and slow-match were forthcoming, and our troops werepouring a hot fire across Duck Lake before the Confederacy had gottwo-thirds of the way back to Richmond. Next morning, my boy, the ConicSection crossed the Lake, and cleared away everything on the oppositeshore except the before-mentioned wood-pile. The latter contains thesame kind of wood that was burned in the time of Washington, my boy,and twenty men were appointed to guard it from the profanation of ourtroops. We must protect such property at all hazards, my boy, or theConstitution becomes a nullity.
Having crossed the treacherous element to view the immediate scene ofthese proceedings, and learned from Captain Villiam Brown that ourpickets were within ten miles of the Confederacy's capital, I was aboutto make some short remark, when a messenger came riding forward in agreat perspiration, and says he;
"Our pickets have been driven in."
"Ha!" says Villiam, "is the Confederacy again advancing upon the UnitedStates of America?"
"Our pickets," says the messenger, impressively "have been driven in;they have been driven into Richmond."
"Ah!" says Villiam, pleasantly, "then send out some more pickets."
I strolled away from the pair, my boy, reflecting upon the possibilityof enough Mackerel pickets reaching Richmond in this way to make theUnion sentiment there stronger than ever, and was looking listlessly tomy footing, when I chanced to espy a paper on the ground. Picking itup, I found it to be a note from the wife of the Southern Confederacyto her cousin, dropped, probably by one of the Confederacies of thewood-pile. It bore the date of April the First, and read as follows:
"DEAR JULEYER:--I have just space of time to write you these few lines,hoping that these few lines will find you the same, and in theenjoyment of the same blessing. O my unhappy country! how art thousuffering at this present writing! I have not had a single new bonnetfor two weeks, my beloved Juleyer, and my Solferino gloves are alreadydiscolored by the perspiration I have shed when thinking of my poor,dear South. My husband, the distinguished Southern Confederacy, is soreduced by trials, that he is a mere skeleton skirt. Oh, my Juleyer,how long is this to continue? Ere another century shall have passedaway, the Yankees will have approached nearer Charleston and Savannah,and the blockade become almost effective. Since the Mackerel Brigadehas changed its base of operations, even Richmond seems doomed to fallin less than fifty years. Everything looks dark. Tell me the price ofdotted muslin, for undersleeves, when you write again, and believe me,
Your respected cousin, "MRS. S. C."
* * * * *
There's only one thing about this letter bothers me, and that's thedate, my boy--the date.
When very near this city, on my return home, I met a chap, weighingabout two hundred and twenty-five pounds, who was on his way to alawyer's to get his exemption from the draft duly filed.
"See here, my patriotic invalid," says I, skeptically, "how do you cometo be exempt?"
"I am exempt," says he, in a proudly melancholy manner, "because I amsuffering from a broken heart."
"Hem," says I.
"It's true," says he, sniffling dismally. "I asked the female of myheart to have me. She said I hadn't enough postage-stamps to suit herideas of personal revenue, and she didn't care to do my washing. Thatwas enough: my heart is broken, and I am not an able-bodied man."
Drafting, my boy, is of a nature to develop the seeds of disease in thehitherto healthy human system--seeds which, if suffered to fructify,will be likely to ultimate in what gentlemen of burglariousaccomplishments would chastely and botanically denominate a verylarge-sized "plant."
Yours, seriously, ORPHEUS C. KERR.