LETTER LXXIX.
SHOWING HOW THE NATIONAL INSANITARY COMMITTEE MADE A STRANGE BLUNDER; HOW THE BELOVED GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE WAS REMOVED AND EXALTED; AND ENDING WITH AN INFALLIBLE RECIPE.
WASHINGTON, D. C., November 15th, 1862.
As I calmly observe the present situation of our military affairs, myboy, and consider how persistently the Blue Ridge continues to getbetween our great strategic army and the dilapidated SouthernConfederacy, I am impressed with the idea that the salvation of ourdistracted country demands the removal of either the Blue Ridge or thebeloved General of the Mackerel Brigade.
I admit, my boy, that the Mackerel Brigade has spent time enough in onelocality since the last battle to remove the incompetent and imbecileBlue Ridge, and that the immense number of spades consigned to thatveteran _corps_ might be construed into the belief that they werereally engaged in that great stragetic task. Furthermore, that theMackerels have only succeeded in marching fifteen miles in six weeks,legitimates the supposition that they are going up very steep hills;but it must be borne in mind, my boy, that it is the Honest Abe's bestpolicy to conciliate all political parties for the sake of Northernunity of action, and it cannot be doubted that the removal of the BlueRidge at this crisis would occasion the bitterest heart-burnings andjealousies in the manly bosom of our nation's Democratic organization.It would be construed into proof that the Honest Abe had yielded to thefiendish clamor of the crazy Abolitionists, and had rendered arestoration of the adored Union-as-it-Was of our forefathersimpossible, by destroying that Blue Ridge which was an essential partof the Union. The manly Organization, my boy, would prefer an armisticewith the unseemly Confederacy to a removal of the Blue Ridge--aremoval, my boy, authorized neither by the Constitution, the pursuit ofhappiness, nor the rights of man. The Blue Ridge is at the head of ourarmy, and our army is at the foot of the Blue Ridge. The mistakenConfederacy is on the other side, my boy, and the Organization veryjustly reasons, that the fiendish Abolitionists virtually confessthemselves to be, in heart, on the same side with the Confederacy; forif their desired removal of the Blue Ridge were carried out, thedistinction of the two opposite sides would be practically lost, andthe United States of America and the Southern Confederacy would be allon one side, and there might be an unconstitutional collision.
Hence, my boy, the Honest Abe has concluded to leave the Blue Ridgewhere it is, and remove the idolized General of the Mackerel Brigade.
But before I proceed to describe the inexpressible anguish produced bythe adoption of even this grievous alternative, permit me to record theuseful proceedings of the National Insanitary Committee, in theirphilanthropical investigation of the lunacy now prevailing to analarming extent in the Army of Accomac.
For some weeks past, my boy, insanity has been frightfully upon theincrease in the ranks of the unconquerable Mackerel Brigade. ManyMackerels have even gone raving at times, persisting in the vague andincoherent exclamation that they "_Couldn't See It_." There was somehope that this terrible mental aberration might be stayed, if thesuperannuated _corps_ were supplied with spectacles; but the reliefthus given was only temporary; and finally, when one of the poor maniacchaps went so far as to yell, that, even by the aid of his spectacles,he couldn't see what was the use of butting against the Blue Ridge allthe time, it was deemed proper to call in the National InsanitaryCommittee.
Captain Samyule Sa-mith, whose duty it was to draw the Brigade up intwo lines--the sane chaps on one side of the fence, and the insane onthe other--hastened back to Accomac to finish a game of "Old Sledge,"on which four drinks were distinctly pending, and left the agedCommittee to perform its task at leisure.
In anticipation of this sad ceremony, my boy, I had sent myarchitectural steed, the gothic Pegasus, down to Accomac, and thither Iwent on Tuesday morning, to amble totteringly from thence to the sceneof Insanitary proceedings.
The Committee had just commenced work upon its line of chaps, and wasexamining the patients one by one.
The first invalid, Lively Mike, was born in the Sixth Ward, and weighedninety-two pounds. He was a poor, slouching chap, my boy, resemblingpoverty's Ruin, two-thirds covered by an ivy vine of rags. His angularcountenance was rich with unwashings, save a clean irregular circlejust around his ugly mouth.
I asked how it happened that this one part of his face was clean, whenall the rest was dirty; and they told me, my boy, that it was the placewhere his poor old mother had kissed him at parting.
Lively Mike's first symptom of his dreadful malady was a feeling ofoverwhelming weariness, as though he had been for a long time in onespot doing nothing. The feeling deepened into sullen, dangerousmadness, until it was finally unsafe to let him go at large, as he hadseveral times attempted to shoot scouting Confederacies.
The next hopeless patient was Big-nose Jake. Born at the commencementof his career in the Sixth Ward, and weighing ninety-four poundswithout his knapsack, Big-nose had always enjoyed good health, with theexception of starvation; but was in the habit of muttering to himselfthat Strategy was a great humbug, and he'd rather die at home in hisbunk in the engine-house than in a swamp, without a single fire in sixmonths. His only way of keeping warm was by occasionally huddling up toa Confederate picket, and receiving _his_ fire.
No. 3 was Baby Jim, a resident of the Sixth Ward for many years, andweighing ninety-one pounds. His first attack of his malady came in theshape of an incoherent and irrepressible desire to get up a Directoryof Army Names, so that the families of Mackerels in the Army of Accomacmight know where their relatives were, and how old they had got to be.Sometimes he would be suddenly seized with the absurd notion that theGeneral of the Mackerel Brigade was killing more men by strategy thanwould be slain in fifty battles.
Another hapless maniac was Cross-eyed Tom. His family is well known inthe Sixth Ward; weight, ninety-seven pounds. Always enjoyed excellenthealth, until one day, when it suddenly struck him--uncalled-for, as itwere--that he hadn't seen the Colonel of his regiment for six months.The demon of insanity tempted him to believe that his Colonel had allalong been drinking bad gin and threatening to resign, in Washington,instead of staying with his men and getting acquainted with them. Heknew that he must be entirely mistaken about this, but couldn't shakeoff the horrible delusion.
A fifth lunatic was the Worth street Chicken. Had voted several times aday in the Sixth Ward, and weighed ninety-nine pounds. The Chickencould not say that he was really a sick man; but had moments when hecould not resist the malignant temptation to imagine, that thecelebrated Southern Confederacy was just as even with us now as it wasa year ago, with several majestic raids for small trumps. At times hewas troubled with bad dreams about all the Treasury Notes becomingworthless if the General of the Mackerel Brigade went into winterquarters.
And so the Insanitary Committee went down the whole line, my boy,closely questioning the poor chaps who had lost their reason, andeliciting continued proofs of the national ravages of Insanity.
"Truly," says the chief Insanitary chap, cleaning his nails with hisjack-knife; "truly these unhappy beings are hopelessly deranged, andmust be sent to the Asylum. Their ravings are beyond all precedent."
Just as he finished speaking, my boy, and whilst he was picking histeeth to assist meditation, Captain Samyule Sa-mith came riding hastilyin from his successful game of "Old Sledge," bringing the stakes withhim, and says he:
"Well, old Medicusses, have you examined the beings which is unhappilybereft of sense?"
"Yea," says the Insanitary chap, with a grievous groan, "we've examinedall those poor creatures, in that whole line, and find them allhopelessly and incurably mad."
Samyule gave such a start that he split one of his boots, and says he:
"_Which_ line?"
"Why, that line there," says the chap, pointing.
"By all that's Federal!" says Samyule, slapping his left leg; "I'll beblessed if you old goslings hav'n't been examining the W
RONG LINE! Themveterans there are the _sane_ ones!"
Insanity, my boy, like Charity, so seldom begins at home, that wesometimes mistake the best kind of sanity for it when we meet thelatter, as a stranger, abroad. The man we call a maniac is frequentlynothing more than a sane man seen through a maniac's spectacles.
But the whole body of Mackerels, sane and insane alike, unite in afeeling of strong anguish blended with enthusiasm, at the removal ofthe beloved General of the Mackerel Brigade. He has been so much aFather to them all, that they never expected to get a step fartherwhile he was with them.
There's a piece of domestic philosophy for you, my boy.
When the General heard of his removal, my boy, he said that it was likedivorcing a husband from a wife, who had always supported him, andimmediately let fly the following
FAREWELL ADDRESS.
_Head-quarters of the Army of Accomac, Foot of the Blue Ridge._
MY CHILDREN:
An order from the Honest Abe divorces us, and gives the command of allthese attached beings to Major-General Wobert Wobinson. (Heartrendingand enthusiastic cheers.)
In parting with you, I cannot express how much I love your dear bosoms.As an army, you have grown from youth to old age under my care. In youI have never found doubt nor coldness, nor anything else. The victoriesyou have won under my command will live in the nation's works offiction. The strategy we have achieved, the graves of many unripeMackerels, the broken forms of those disabled by the EmancipationProclamation--the strongest associations that can exist amongmen--still make it advisable that you should vote for me as Presidentof the United States in 1865. Thus we shall ever be comrades insupporting the Constitution, and making the Constitution support us.
THE GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE. [Green Seal.]
It was while this affecting document was being read to the Army, myboy, that a procession of political chaps with banners and a smallcannon, landed from a boat on Awlkwyet River, and came filing affablyinto camp. Only pausing to insult two correspondents of the _Tribune_,and to fire the cannon so close to a farmhouse that it broke all thewindows, these pleasant chaps at once organized a meeting and gaveorders that all fighting should be postponed till after the session.
The Hon. Mr. X. Stream proceeded to say that he considered Mr. Lincolna strictly honest, upright, able, and noble-hearted man (cheers); butit could not be denied that his Administration was a wretchedfailure--a blending of brutal imbecility with hellish despotism. (Muchenthusiasm). While it continued so, everything in the stock-marketwould go up--_up_--UP! until the bubble burst. The General of theMackerel Brigade had been removed (universal sobbing) but it was onlythat he might shine the brighter before a Democratic Convention in 1865.
The Hon. Prince Van Brumagen next spoke. Undoubtedly, he would becalled a traitor for what he was about to say, but he was accustomed tothat sort of talk from every one who knew him. He wished to see thiswar vigorously pushed forward; but he could never consent to seeviolence offered to men who only warred against us because they weremistaken. Our Southern friends had imagined that the Abolitionistswanted to prevent their enjoyment of the pursuit of happiness which wasguaranteed to them by the Constitution. They were mistaken, andseceded. The Union as it was had passed away from us, but wasundoubtedly somewhere on the Globe; and as the Globe was constantlyrevolving, we had only to stand still, and it would come round again tous in due time.
The Hon. Fernando Fuel next undressed his thoughts to the meeting. Asproprietor of the City of New York, which he had frequently bought, heprotested against the removal of the General of the Mackerel Brigade atthis inclement season of the year. The idolized General was belovedeven by the Rebels, and his own devoted troops had cheered even louderwhen parting with him, if possible, than when he had first come amongthem.
Here the speaker was interrupted by a chap who suddenly touched off thecannon and simultaneously unfurled a new banner. Borrowing a piece ofsmoked glass, I looked through it at the dazzling standard, and readupon its eloquent folds:
REGULAR HIGH-MORAL NOMINATIONS!
FOR THE SENATE IMMEDIATELY; AND FOR PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES IN 1865. THE (LATE) GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE.
Observe, my boy, this simple rule, to make a hero of a fool:
Just keep him where he is, until his lack of wisdom, want of Skill,attract unto his banner those who, from perverseness, _will_ have foes.Then freely make his dullness known; and when you'd cast him from histhrone, you'll find become _his_ followers true, all men who seek afeud with _you_. To serve the always-malcontent, and give their spleena chance for vent, a knave, a dunce, a stump! would do as well, my boy,as I, or you.
When cats and politicians quarrel, "use any cat's-paw", is the moral.
Yours, sagely, ORPHEUS C. KERR.