The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers Volume Ii Part 14

He smiled paternally upon me, and says he:

"It is my purpose to settle the Negro Question in accordance with the principles laid down in the Book of Exodus. Thunder!" says the General, with magisterial emphasis, "if we do not secure the pursuit of happiness to the slave, even, we violate the Const.i.tution and become obnoxious to the Border communities."

I was reflecting upon this remark, my boy, and wondering what the Const.i.tution had to do with the Book of Exodus, when the delegation made its appearance, and caused the room to darken perceptibly. Not to lose time, the General waved his hand for the visitors to be seated, and, says he:

"You and we are different races, and for this reason it must be evident to you, as well as to myself, that it is better you should be voluntarily compelled to colonize some distant but salubrious sh.o.r.e.

There is a wide difference between our races; much wider, perhaps, than that which exists between any other two races. Your race suffers very greatly, and our race suffers in suffering your race to suffer. In a word, we both suffer, which establishes a reason why our race should not suffer your race to remain here any longer. You who are here are all present, I suppose."

A voice--"Yes, sah."

"Perhaps you have not been here all your lives. Your race is suffering the greatest wrong that ever was; but when you cease to suffer, your sufferings are still far from an equality with our sufferings. Our white men are now changing their base of operations daily, and often taking Malvern Hills. This is on your account. You are the cause of it.

How you have caused it I will not attempt to explain, for I do not know; but it is better for us both to be separated, and it is vilely selfish in you (I do not speak unkindly) to wish to remain here in preference to going to Nova Zembla. The fact that we have always oppressed you renders you still more blameable, especially when we reflect upon the fact that you have never shown resistance. A trip on your part to Nova Zembla will benefit both races. I cannot promise you much bliss right away. You may starve at first, or die on the pa.s.sage; but in the Revolutionary War General Washington lived exclusively on the future. He was benefitting his race; and though I do not see much similarity between his case and yours, you had better go to Nova Zembla. You may think that you could live in Washington, perhaps more so than you could on a foreign sh.o.r.e. This is a mistake. None but white army contractors and brigadiers on furlough can live here.

"The festive isle of Nova Zembla has been in existence for some time, and is larger than any smaller place I know of. Many of the original settlers have died, and their offspring would still be living had they lived long enough to become accustomed to the climate. You may object to go on account of your affection for our race, but it does not strike me that there is any cogent reasons for such affection. So you had better go to Nova Zembla. The particular place I have in view for your colonization is the great highway between the North Pole and Sir John Franklin's supposed grave. It is a popular route of travel, being much frequented by the facetious penguin and the flowing seal. It has great resources for ice-water, and you will be able to have ice cream every day, provided you supply yourselves with the essence of lemon and patent freezers. As to other food, I can promise you nothing. There are fine harbors on all sides of this place, and though you may see no ships there, it will be still some satisfaction to know that you have such admirable harbors. Again, there is evidence of very rich bear-hunting. When you take your wives and families to a place where there is no food, nor any ground to be cultivated, nor any place to live in, then the human mind would as naturally turn to bear-hunting as to anything else. But if you should die of starvation at the outset, even bear-hunting may dwindle into insignificance. Why I attach so much importance to bear-hunting is, it will afford you an opportunity to die more easily than by famine and exposure. Bear-hunting is the best thing I know of under such circ.u.mstances.

"You are intelligent, and know that human life depends as much upon those who possess it as upon anybody else. And much will depend upon yourselves if you go to Nova Zembla. As to the bear-hunting, I think I see the means available for engaging you in that very soon without injury to ourselves. I wish to spend a little money to get you there, and may possibly lose it all; but we cannot expect to succeed in anything if we are not successful in it.

"The political affairs of Nova Zembla are not in quite such a condition as I could wish, the bears having occasional fights there, over the body of the last Esquimaux governor; but these bears are more generous than we are. They have no objection to dining upon the colored race.

"Besides, I would endeavor to have you made equals, and have the best a.s.surance that you should be equals of the best. The practical thing I want to ascertain is, whether I can get a certain number of able-bodied men to send to a place offering such encouragement and attractions.

Could I get a hundred tolerably intelligent men, with their wives and children, to partake of all this bliss? Can I have fifty? If I had twenty-five able-bodied men, properly seasoned with women and children, I could make a commencement.

"These are subjects of very great importance, and worthy of a month's study of the paternal offer I have made you. If you have no consideration for yourselves, at least consider the bears, and endeavor to reconcile yourselves to the beautiful and pleasing little hymn of childhood, commencing:

"I would not live always; I ask not to stay."

At the termination of this flattering and paternal address, my boy, the delegation took their hats and commenced to leave in very deep silence; thereby proving that persons of African descent are utterly insensible of kindness and much inferior to the race at present practising strategy on this continent.

Colonization, my boy, involves a scheme of human happiness so entirely beyond the human power of conception, that the conception of it will almost pa.s.s for something inhuman.

Yours, utopianically, ORPHEUS C. KERR.

LETTER LXIII.

GIVING A FAMILIAR ZOOLOGICAL ILl.u.s.tRATION OF THE "SITUATION," AND CELEBRATING THE BRILLIANT STRATEGICAL EVECUATION OF PARIS BY THE MACKEREL BRIGADE.

WASHINGTON, D. C., August 22, 1862.

On Monday morn, my boy, whilst I was pulling on a pair of new boots that have some music in their soles, there arose near my room door a sound as of one in dire agony, closely followed by a variously-undulated moan, as of some deserted woman in distress. Hastily discontinuing my toilet, and darting to the threshold, I beheld one of those scenes of civil war which impress the sensitive soul with horror and meet the just reprobation of feeling Albion.

Rampant between two marrow-bones, my boy, was my frescoed dog, Bologna, eyeing, with horrid fury, Sergeant O'Pake's canine friend, known as Jacob Barker, and ever and anon uttering sentences of supernatural wrath. To these the excited Barker responded in deep ba.s.s of great compa.s.s, his nose curling with undisguised disdain, and his eyes a.s.similating to that insidious and fiery squint which betokens inexpressible malignity. There was something not of earth, my boy, in the frescoed Bologna's distortion of countenance as he attempted to keep an eye on each bone, and at the same time look full in the face of his foe; and there was that in the sounds of his strain which betokened Sirius indecision.

As I gazed upon these two infuriated wonders of natural history, my boy, and recognized the fact that the existence of two bones in contention prevented an actual battle, because neither combatant was willing to lose sight of either of them; whilst the presence of but one bone would have simplified the matter, and precipitated a decisive conflict, I could not but think that I saw symbolized before me the situation of our distracted country.

The United States of America, my boy, and the well-known Southern Confederacy, are like two irascible terriers practising defiant strategy between two bones, the one being the festive negro-question, and the other the Union. Now it seems to me, my boy--it seems to me, that if the gay animal with U. S. on his collar would only dispose of the bone nearest him without further vocalism, there would be a better chance for him to secure the other bone in the combat sure to come.

Dogs, my boy, and men, are very much alike, in their hostile meetings, neither seeming to know just exactly which is truly their _magnum bonum_.

Ascending the roof of my architectural steed, Pegasus, on Tuesday, I induced the gothic animal to adopt a pace sometimes affected by the fleet tortoise, and went down to Accomac in pursuit of knowledge respecting recruiting. Just before reaching that Arcadian locality, my boy, I met Colonel Wobert Wobinson, of the Western Cavalry, who had been down there to induce volunteering and infuse fresh confidence into the ma.s.ses. He offered a bounty of two hundred dollars; three dollars to be paid immediately, and the rest as soon as the war commences in earnest; and promised to each man a horse physically incapacitated from running away from anything.

"Well, my bold dragoon," says I, cordially, noticing that Pegasus had already fallen into a peaceful doze, "how go enlistments?"

The colonel waved away an abstracted crow that was hovering in deep reverie over my charger's brow, and says he: "I have enlisted all the people of Accomac."

"I want to know," says I, Bostonianly.

"Yes," says he, "I called a meeting, and succeeded in enlisting all--their sympathies."

As I gazed upon the equestrian warrior, my boy, methought I saw the youngest offspring of a wink trembling in a corner of his right eye, and I felt that the world renowned Snyder was at that moment laboring under a heavy incubus. Such is life.

The state of health in Accomac indicates that the demon of disease is abroad in the land, looking chiefly for his victims among those between the tender ages of eighteen and forty-five. Instead of having a sling in his hand, like the young warrior David, each young man I met had his hand in a sling, whilst the dexter leg of more than one able-bodied patriot suggested the juvenile prayer of "Now I lame me, down to slip."

And there were the women of America fairly crying in terror of the draft, instead of bearing themselves like the Spartan ribs of old.

Alas! my boy, why cannot our people realize, that a nation, like a cooking-stove, cannot keep up a steady fire without a good draft. We need men for the crisis, and we only find cry sisses for the men.

I could not stay here, so I hastened on to Paris, where a great strategic movement was about to supply all the world with fresh recollections of the late Napoleon. I say _late_ Napoleon, my boy, because our Napoleon is apt to be behind time.

As far back as I can remember, I have been fully aware that this movement was about to take place, but would not, like too many other correspondents, betray the confidence reposed in me. This bosom, my boy, this manly and truthful bosom, is about the right shop for confidence. Nor is it like the bosoms of those who can truthfully say that they never _give_ important information to the enemy, though every body knows that they sell it.

On arriving in Paris, I saw at once that preparations for outgeneraling the deceived Confederacy had already commenced; for the down-trodden General of the Mackerel Brigade had a.s.sembled the reliable contrabands whom he had used for some weeks past, and was taking leave of them in a heart-felt manner.

Mounted on a small keg, from the bung hole of which came the aroma of pleasant rye fields, the General softly wiped his lips, and says he:

"Being members of a race which we regard as a speshees of monkeys, my black children, the fact that this is a white man's war will prevent your taking part in the entirely different race about to come off.

After the manner of Andrew Jackson at New Orleans, I have called upon you to do something for your adopted country; but as my friend Andrew was particular to make his proclamation read '_free_ negroes,' there can be no parallel between the two cases further. Therefore, return to your masters, my children, and tell them that the United States of America wars not against them rights of which you are a part. Go! And remember, that as Gradual Emanc.i.p.ation is about to come off, you will soon know the juicy richness of being free to visit all parts of the world, except those not included in the pleasing map of Nova Zembla."

The contrabands departed, my boy, in blissful procession, and many of them are undoubtedly happy enough now. Happier, my boy, than they could hope to be if suffered to remain in this conservative and const.i.tutional world.

While the Mackerels were coming out of their holes, and polishing their shovels for the march, I observed that the general walked thoughtfully to his tent, in deep silence. I found Captain Villiam Brown expelling two reporters from the lines, lest they should prematurely divulge the movement then going on to the Confederacy seated on an adjacent fence, and says I to him:

"Tell me, my fiery warrior, wherefore is it that the chieftain seeks his solitary tent?"

"Ah!" says Villiam, reverently, "it is to pray for the cause of liberty and the rights of man, after the manner of George Washington, Mount Vernon, Virginia. Come with me, my cherub," says Villiam piously, "and you shall see martial greatness in a touching aspeck."

We went softly to the tent together, my boy, and there beheld the beloved general of the Mackerel Brigade, with his face devoutly upturned. His face was devoutly upturned, my boy; but we could see something intervening between his countenance and the sky, and discovered, upon closer inspection, that it was a tumbler. Can it be, my boy, that this good man thought that Heaven, like any distant earthly object, could be brought nearer by looking toward it through a gla.s.s? Here is food for thought, my boy--here is food for thought.

And now, Commodore Head having fished his iron-clad fleet from the tempestuous bosom of Duck Lake, and everything being in readiness--the march of the Mackerel Brigade commenced, with a silence so intense that we could distinctly hear all that anybody said.

First, came a delegation of political chaps from the Sixth Ward, conversing with each other on the state of the country, and considering eight hundred and forty excellent plans for saving the Union, and getting up a straight-out ticket.

Then appeared the well-known promenade band of the Mackerel Brigade, executing divers pleasant _morceaux_ on his night-key bugle, an occasional stumble over a stone giving the airs a happy variety of sudden _obligati_ improvements.

Next appeared the idolized General of the Mackerel Brigade, modestly refusing to receive all the credit for the skillful movement, and a.s.suring his staff that he really would not prefer to be President of the United States in 1865.