“As respects Mr. Chase, he is, if I may say so, a brother in this craft; and I have often sympathized with his difficulties, and admired the great ability and ingenuity with which he appears to have steered his course.
“I remain, my dear sir,
“Faithfully yours,
“W. E. Gladstone.”
The “letter full of feeling” to which Mr. Gladstone refers was an account sent to Mr. Field by his daughter Alice of a visit to the headquarters of the Army of the Potomac. On account of this reference, and also for its interest as a contemporaneous sketch of the war time by a non-combatant, it is here inserted:
“Washington, D. C., February 25, 1864.
“My dear Mother,—Since I last wrote I have been to the army front, passing on the way many of the battle-fields whose names bring up sad memories, and finally living for two nights and much of three days within view of the enemy’s signals, and in the midst of our own encampments.... Early on Monday morning we found ourselves in the government train on the way to Brandeth Station. This is a five hours’ journey from Washington, but the time could not have dragged with any one interested in the history of our country. We saw the battle-ground of Manasses; we crossed the Bull Run stream and the fields made memorable by Pope’s disastrous campaign. Indeed, along the long line of the railway runs a battle-field—the “race-course,” as an officer told me it was called, so often have our troops and the enemy’s pursued each other there. Everywhere one sees the evidences of war; the whole country is desolated, and the earth ploughed by the tread of armies; broken earthworks border the brows of the hills, and wherever a camp is seen around it is a stockade or abatis to protect it from Mosby’s guerillas, who infest this region.
“As we were whirled past these scenes, I listened to the talk of the officers about me, and expressions such as these made the story doubly real: “It was there the cavalry was attacked”; “The bridge we are now crossing was contested all day in the action of the other day”; “We held those hills where that body of artillery is now moving.” So those five hours hurried away, and we did not wake up to the present until we reached Brandeth Station. Here stood lines of ambulances to receive the army’s guests, and soon we were placed in an ambulance and jolted over corduroy roads to General ——’s tent. After an hour’s jolting we reached our first destination. The general’s tent was one of a large encampment on a hill which commands a view of our fortifications all about the country and those of the rebels across the river, only four or five miles away.
“General ——, commander of the Third Brigade, Third Division, Second Corps, received us very courteously, and with him and three of the officers of his staff we lunched in the tent. This tent is charming. At one end blazes in a huge fireplace—open, of course—a bright wood fire: in the centre stands a table, over which hangs a chandelier holding three candles; on one side is the bed; and all about are army chairs.
“Our lunch, where the officers presided as hosts and waiters, consisted of ham sandwiches, pickles, jelly, ale, and tea. The three officers were our escorts to our quarters, which we found to be in the old Virginia manor Milton, owned and still inhabited by the well-known family of ——.
“They did not smile upon us at first, but we made a great effort to propitiate the two sad-looking Virginia ladies who received us. They both were in mourning for the son of one of them, who was killed during the Peninsula campaign—a rebel. Poor, poor fellow! We felt so much for these proud women, obliged to receive Northern strangers, and unable to conceal their fallen fortunes, that we did our best to heal their wounded self-love. After tea we dressed for the ball. I wore the blue tissue, the white lace waist, and a blue ribbon only in my hair.... Our three escorts arrived long before we were ready, but at last we were put again into our ambulance. Just fancy the strangeness of going to a ball in an ambulance, and the ball-room itself, indeed, was as odd a mingling of contrasts. It was an immense boarded room, with a pointed roof from which hung many flags and banners, most ragged and full of bullet-holes, some in ribbons; guns were stacked against the building, and these were draped with evergreens; on either side of the platform used by the band rested cannons pointed towards us; these were almost concealed by banners again. From this end of the room came excellent music all the evening.
“I was made quite happy by General Meade’s condescension in speaking to me twice. We had four hours’ sleep that night, or rather the next morning. The whole of Tuesday was given to a great review—that of the Second Corps. General Meade reviewed the troops. There were 7000 infantry and 3000 cavalry; these last were Kilpatrick’s, and they showed us a cavalry charge; this was very exciting, and their shrieks in rushing upon the supposed enemy so overcame us that we clung to each other in terror. The day was more than May, it was June. Far away rose the Blue Ridge (well named, we thought), while all over the country in every direction were marching the infantry, or the artillery was rumbling, or the cavalry dashing about in the soft Virginia breezes. When General Meade reviewed the army, as he rode with his staff past each brigade the general and officers joined the cavalcade of the commander-in-chief, the band playing and colors flying and bayonets glistening, all in the bright sunlight of that perfect day. I cannot tell you how touching was the sight of those regiments that have been long in the service, and have but two or three hundred left. They march so firmly, carrying their torn banners, with the names of the battles in which they have fought written upon them.