CHAPTER XXIX.
LIFE AT HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF POTOMAC—SOME STARTLING REVELATIONS AS TO THE "TRUE INWARDNESS," NOT TO SAY CUSSEDNESS, OF OUR HIGH UNION OFFICIALS—INTERESTING DESCRIPTIONS OF FAMILY LIFE AT HEADQUARTERS—"SIGNALS"—CIPHERS—AGAIN VOLUNTEERING FOR SECRET SERVICE INSIDE THE REBEL ARMY—A REMARKABLE STATEMENT ABOUT BURNSIDE AND HOOKER—INTRODUCTION TO GENERAL MEADE—A NIGHT AT RAPPAHANNOCK INTERVIEWING REBEL PICKETS.
We were encamped on the side of the hill on the top of which was the large mansion house then occupied by Burnside and Staff. My memory is not reliable as to names, but I think it was called the Phillips House; anyway, it was a fine, large house, with all the usual surroundings of a Virginia mansion of the days. There were negro quarters, smoke-house, ice-house, stables, etc. These were filled up with the innumerable crowd that are always about headquarters. Our command was in camp in Sibley tents on the hill-side or in the orchard, almost within call of the house. It was my daily habit, when not otherwise engaged (and I had the liberty of the camp), to loaf around the porch of this house. Some way there seemed to be a strange fascination in the general officer's appearance, and I took great delight in watching his every movement and in listening to the talk of the big officers on the Staff.
There was always something going on at headquarters. Either General Franklin, or the old, almost feeble-looking, but grand E. V. Sumner, or Couch, would be there as visitors, and before they would leave probably other corps commanders in the uniform of Major-Generals, with swords, and followed by their Staffs, would dash up to the fence, dismount, and strut in, with swords rattling on the frozen ground and reverberating in the big hallway.
I saw Burnside every day, and several times a day. Whatever may be the judgment as to his generalship, there can be but one opinion as to his handsome appearance and his courteous manner. I became a personal Orderly to the General, and bear my cheerful testimony that he was always courteous and kind, and most tenderhearted and thoughtful of the welfare of the boys in the ranks.
It was my privilege to have seen him frequently when alone during the dark, dreary days that followed his terrible disaster. I have often since thought that his mind became affected by his great trouble. He would do some of the queerest things; as, for instance, one evening he came out into the back part of the house, where I happened to be at the time, in company with a chum, there being no one else near. He, in his bare head, coolly walked up to us. We, of course, jumped to our feet, saluted and properly stood at attention, expecting that he would pass on, but, instead, he stopped, and, with a peculiar little laugh, said, in words that I do not now recollect, but, in effect, it was: "Tell them it's all right." Then, as if suddenly recovering consciousness, probably at our stupidity in staring at him, he turned abruptly away, saying, hurriedly: "Never mind, never mind."
My companion, being older and more experienced than I, probably felt it his duty to whisper to me, as he touched my arm: "Come; don't stare so. Don't you see the 'old man' is full?"
I believed at the time, and for a long time after, that my companion was right, but, in the light of subsequent events, and coupled with some other singular things that it was my privilege to witness in the few days that followed, I am reluctantly inclined to believe that General Burnside was crazed by his defeat, and that he had not recovered the possession of his faculties when he planned the "Mud Campaign."
But, to better explain my reasons for entertaining this view, I will explain that, a day or two after this singular occurrence, when I found an opportunity to see the General alone, I took occasion to boldly make a proposition to him. As I put the matter in writing at the time, at his request (for my own good, as he in such a kindly way suggested), it is probable that the paper may be among the records.
I wanted to go over the river very, very much—that goes without saying. As I knew Geno was in the house, the roof and one corner of which I could see, I made almost a daily pilgrimage to the Lacey House, and sat there on my horse by the hour, hoping and praying that it might be that she or some of the family would recognize me.