LETTER LIX.
INSTANCING THE BENEFICENT DEPORTMENT OF THE VENERABLE GAMMON, AND NOTING THE PERFORMANCE OF A REMARKABLE MORAL DRAMA BY CAPTAIN VILLIAM BROWN.
WASHINGTON, D. C., August 2d, 1862.
Some enthusiasm was excited here in the early part of the week, my boy,by the return of the Venerable Gammon from a visit to his aged familyat Mugville, whither he goes regularly once a month for the benefit ofthe sagacious chaps of the press. A great blessing is the VenerableGammon to the palladium of our liberties, my boy; for no sooner doesour army cease to change its base of operations, and do other thingscalculated to make the war interesting and lengthy, than he pulls outhis ruffles, sighs frequently, and melts away to Mugville. Then all thesagacious press chaps rush to the telegraph office and flash feverishparagraphs to the intelligent morning journals: "Highlyimportant--Sudden departure of the Venerable Gammon for Mugville toattend the death-bed of a relative--Believed in military circles thatthis indicates a change in the Cabinet--Border States delegation hasagain waited on the President--More vigorous policy needed."
Whereupon the editors of all the intelligent morning journalsecstatically print the paragraphs, affixing to them: "_Note by theEditor._--Washington is a town in the so called District ofColumbia--situated on the Potomac. We infer from our correspondent'sdispatch that it has not yet been taken by the rebels."
American journalism, my boy, in presenting a vast amount of matterdaily, is eminently calculated to impress the youthful brain with akeen sense of what a wide distinction there is between Mind and Matter.
Immediately on the return of the Venerable Gammon, he commenced sayingthings, which made all the rest of mankind seem like withered childrenin comparison with him. He was beaming genially on the throng atWillard's, and says I to him:
"It would appear, my beloved _Pater Patria_, that military matters arenot quite as interesting as a woman with a headache just now."
The Venerable Gammon pitied my youth, and waved his hand fatly by wayof a silent blessing to all the world. "Military affairs," says he,effulgently, "are like metaphysics. Military affairs," says theVenerable Gammon, benignantly, "are like that which we do notunderstand--they defy our comprehension and comprehend our defiance."
Then all the Congressmen looked at each other, as much as to say theUnion was saved at last; and I felt like a babe in the presence of thegreat Behemoth of the Scriptures.
How the Venerable Gammon has anything at all to do with this war, Ican't find out, my boy, but when the affectionate populace learned thatthe Venerable Gammon had returned from Mugville, they swarmed aroundhis carriage, and entreated him either to spit upon them, or save themfrom slow decay by a speech. It was then the Venerable man raised hishand in soothing benediction, and says he:
"My friends, you are young yet, and have much to learn concerning war.I can only say to you, my friends, that all goes well with McClellan;and, if you will only hasten to fill up old regiments, raise a fewthousand new ones, and go yourselves, the advance upon Richmond maycommence at any time."
The most enthusiastic cheering followed this comforting speech of theVenerable Gammon, and six ecstatic chaps immediately offered tovolunteer as major-generals.
Shall we presume to talk of drafting, my boy, when there is suchreadiness on the part of the people to lead the troops? I think not, myboy, I think not. Let the draft be protested.
On Wednesday I again took a trip to Paris, accompanied by my frescoeddog, Bologna, and found upon reaching that city that the MackerelBrigade had built itself a theatre, after the manner of Drury Lane, andwas about to partake of the rich intellectual drama. This chaste templemight possibly be taken for a cowshed, my boy, by those who are notconversant with architecture in one story. It occupies a spot which hasbeen rising ground ever since the Mackerels commenced to dig trenchesaround it, and the front door is so spacious that you have to go allaround the building to find where it stops opening. The seats aresimilar to those which are supposed to have been so popular with theCount de Grasse and the stage is exquisitely extemporized from severalflour-barrels, with a curtain created from the flannel petticoatsrecently belonging to the wife of the Southern Confederacy.
Passing over all intervening events, my boy, let me direct your specialattention to the night we celebrated, when I found myself occupying abox (previously used for crackers) in the temple of the Muses,surrounded by uniforms and dazzled by the glitter of the shovels wornby the military celebrities present. In a box (marked "SpermCandles--First quality") on my right, I noticed a number ofdistinguished persons whom I did not know, and to the left were groupedseveral celebrated visitors with whom I was not acquainted. The stageitself realized numerous brilliant footlights in the way of bottlescontaining gorgeous tallow-dips; and when the orchestra brought out hiskey-bugle and struck up the martial strain of "I want to be an Angel,"there _was_ a dry eye in the house.
(Make a note of this last unparalleled fact, my boy; for you, nor anyother mortal man, ever heard of its occurrence before.)
The curtain having been taken down by a gentleman who had forgotten towash himself when the washstand went round last time, the playcommenced; and I found it to be
THE UNION AS IT WAS.
A HIGH MORAL DRAMA, IN ONE ACK.
BY CAPTAIN VILLIAM BROWN, ESKEVIRE.
The plot of this admirable work is very simple, my boy, and appeals tothose sentiments of the human heart which affect the liver. The sceneis laid in Washington, where it has been frequently seen, and the dramaopens with a fine
CONSERVATIVE CHORUS.
Abram, spare the South, Touch not a single slave: Nor e'en by word of mouth, Disturb the thing we crave. 'Twas our forefather's hand That Slavery begot; There, Abram, let it stand Thine Acts shall harm it not.
At the conclusion of this spirited National Anthem, the Border Stateschaps who have been singing it are invited to have another interviewwith the President, who has only seen them twice the same morning. Asthey pass out, the celebrated Miss Columbia appears, wrapt in deepthought and the American flag, and reading the twenty-thirdproclamation for the current month. She asks her heart if she is indeeddivorced--if her once happy Union is indeed broken; and as her heartrefuses to answer any such common question, a doubt is allowed toremain in the bosom of the spectator. In deep agony she kneels at themonument of Washington and softly sings "Hail Columbia," while theSouthern Confederacy, who has just arrived, proceeds to plant batteriesall round her, assisted in the work by reliable contrabands. After somemoments spent in prayer for the repose of Secretary Welles, Columbiadiscovered her surroundings, and is about to make a faint, when thespirit of Napoleon appears, and tells her she has nothing to fear, ashe is about to change his base of operations, and take Richmond. Hetells her he would have taken it long before but for the Tribune. Thisis a very fine scene--very fine. The spirit of Napoleon then proceedsto pick up everything he can find and throw it over to the SouthernConfederacy, at the same time swinging himself around so that his leftfist may be presented to the enemy instead of his right, only pausinglong enough to drive back a reliable contraband who has started todesert to him. Matters are progressing admirably, and the Confederacyhas only planted 24 more batteries around Columbia, when theConservative Chorus comes tearing back to the scene, with the news thatthe President has determined to pay for all runaway slaves inpostage-stamps! This splendid stroke of policy so completely staggersthe Confederacy, that he only erects thirty-two more batteries, andacknowledges that his back-bone is broken: Strange to say, Columbiastill labors under the delusion that she is in danger; but is finallyre-assured by the spirit of Napoleon, who convinces her that all isgoing well, and at once draws his shovel and commences to dig a hole.Columbia asks: "Wherefore this digging?" To which the response is:
"Our Union in its broken state Is discord to the soul: And therefore ar
e we digging here To make the Union hole."
The digging proceeds until the spirit of Napoleon is sunk deep into theearth, when the Southern Confederacy deliberately steps over the holeand captures Washington, at the same time ordering Columbia to blackhis boots. Columbia would be utterly bereft of hope at this turn inaffairs but for the cheerful conduct of the Conservative Chorus, whobid her rejoice that the good old times have come again. Columbia thenremembers that she did indeed black the boots of the Confederacy in thegood old times, and it suddenly flashes upon her that the Union is, intruth, restored--AS IT WAS. A brilliant blue light is thrown upon thescene, and as the curtain falls the Conservative Chorus are seen in theact of taking all the credit to themselves and indignantly refusing topay their war taxes.
This affecting drama of real life was played entirely by giftedMackerels, my boy, the one who acted Columbia being possessed of avoice as musical as that which sometimes comes from between the teethof a new saw.
When the last round of applause had subsided, and I was leaving thetheatre, I came upon the dramatist, Captain Villiam Brown, who appearedto be waiting to hear what I had to say about his work. Says I to him:
"Well, my versatile Euripides, your play resembles the better dramas ofAEschylus, inasmuch as it is all Greek to me."
"Ah!" says Villiam, hastily assuming the attitude in which Shaksperegenerally appears in his pictures. "Did I remind you forcibly of thebard of Avon?"
"Yes," says I, kindly; "you might easily be taken for Shakspere--afterdark."
As I turned to leave him, my boy, I could not help thinking how oftenthe world will call a man a "Second" So-and-so, long before he hasanything like commenced to be first, even.
Yours, doubtingly, ORPHEUS C. KERR.