April 11, 1863, The New York Herald
Our Headquarters Correspondence.
HEADQUARTERS, ARMY OF THE POTOMAC.
April 9, 1863.
The event of the season came off yesterday. The grand review, which the army has for days been looking forward to, and in which rival regiments were to vie with each other for distinction, has passed, and with it the “[…..] of war. The circumstance” awaits us, in our weary marches and days of toil yet to come; in the future apparently uninviting, but anticipated with dazzling visions. Great preparations had been made for the display, and for several days a large force was employed, with axes, picks and shovels, leveling the fields. Ditches were filled, stumps and bushes removed, ridges cut down, and quagmires drained, until the Fitzhugh estate wore the appearance of a race track. Tall stakes, bearing the designs of the badges of the several corps, were planted in the positions to be occupied by the respective commands, and as the troops marched out upon the field the divisions wheeled into line as if by instinct, with no confusion, no noise, save the music of the bands, the tramp of the regiments and the few brief orders of the officers.
Hours slipped by, and the dark blue masses on the plateau grew larger, the banners more numerous, the rattle of drums more bewildering. The artillery came out, and the great guns that thundered at the heights of Fredericksburg pointed their muzzels over towards the white tents in the hollows, and the little rifle cannon drew up by them briskly, as if proud of the work they did before Richmond, at Antietam and over the pontoons down by the river. The columns were all in line, the men waited and grew impatient, and the battery horses, to amuse themselves in the cold, kicked each others shins, and fiercely switched imaginary flies, and still the cortege did not appear. The wind swept across the open country, stinging the fingers of the soldiers, playing mad pranks with caps, tugging at the flags upon the tall bending staffs, as if impatient at the delay, and the troops began to fall out one by one to stir themselves into warmth; when suddenly a volume of smoke burst up from the right, followed by another, and then another, while the sullen boom of the guns rolled across to the left and announced the commencement of the drama. The cavalcade was imposing. The President, mounted upon a large bay, took the lead, followed by a brilliant throng of generals, colonels, and officers of lesser rank, while the lancers, with their fluttering pennants and a troop of orderlies, galloped after. Mrs. Lincoln, accompanied by the Attorney General and Captain Candler, of General Hooker’s staff, in a carriage drawn by four spanking bays and escorted by a squad of lancers, viewed the display from an eminence; but Master Lincoln, with characteristic enterprise, booted and spurred, rode bravely at the side of the President, followed by his dashing little orderly. And hereby hangs a tale. When the war broke out a smooth faced lad came down with the troops from Burlington, N. J., and with the rest went into the fights. General Kearny noticed him, and made his bugler, and all through the struggles on the Peninsula kept him at the front of the division. General Kearny fell; but the bugler remained, and, under the new commander, thrived as before. Now he trumpets for General Sickles at the head of the corps, and sports his sword belt and broad sergeant’s stripes with the air of a veteran. A favorite among the officers, his lot is far from being commiserated, while his future cannot but seem promising. Steps have already been taken for giving him an education, and an appointment to the military school is hinted by his friends. Yesterday he accompanied Master Lincoln as inseparably as his shadow, and after the review initiated him into the science of managing the lance. The boys are fast friends, and ramble around together like brothers. Will their future histories be ever connected?
The artillery were quickly reviewed and passed off the field, when the President turned his attention to the infantry. The troops were drawn up in columns of divisions, and as the cortege rode down the front the banners dipped gracefully, the bands burst out with “Hail to the Chief,” and the bugles sounded their flourish of greeting. The corps were reviewed separately, though all upon the same field, and while one was saluting and being saluted the others rested upon their arms, while the rear ranks sometimes fell out and danced fantastic jigs in the cold to the rattle of the drums in the distance. Guards were stationed around the field to restrain the throng of spectators, and officers, with scrolls in their hands, rode frantically about giving instructions; while General Patrick, as general officer of the day, calm, erect and dignified as a Roman, moved from point to point superintending the movements of the troops, and here and there, by an order, easing the friction of the huge machine. From a knoll above the field the view was magnificent. Out upon a little swell of upland were crowded the President, the generals and the staff, and over all the plain stretched the columns of the army. In the distance were the camps, the river, the spires of Fredericksburg and the frowning batteries beyond; behind us, miles of mud-walled villages, long white-topped baggage wagons, and cannon on the hills. Now and then the sun came out and lighted up the field with flashes that seemed almost supernatural. Then we caught glimpses of glorious things, visions of splendor, that vanished and seemed as a mirage. How the sunbeams danced on the rifles and bayonets, and lingered in the folds of the banners, will never be forgotten; how the shadows drifted over the plain and melted away with the music very few will fail to remember. Steadily the tide of veterans surged onward. The front was lost in the winding valleys leading to the quiet camps, and the rear still rested impatiently on the knoll; while the columns one by one continued to swing off from the latter, wind round before the President, and lose themselves in the distance. The afternoon wore on, and the regiments, like waves at sea, swept after each other as regularly as before, the drums kept up their furious rattle, and the sunbeams, playing hide and seek, lost themselves among the soldiery; spectators grew tired of the ceaseless tramp, the bugles and flutter of banners, and galloped home to their camps, and the President sat wearily upon his horse, waiting for the review to be ended.
At length the last regiment came up, dipped its colors and hammered its drums, vanished over the hill, and the cortege of generals and orderlies cantered leisurely back to headquarters.
Notwithstanding the order directing the ladies in camp to change their base, great numbers of them remained, and in fanciful costumes appeared upon the field. Now and then we caught glimpses of crinoline and curls in the ambulances, and occasionally some fair equestrian dashed along the plain to the admiration of young officers and the envy of their less fortunate sisters. Artists were scattered about, pencil and portfolio in hand, sketching the beauties of the scene; newly fledged poets sought inspiration of the muses and from the classic canteen, and the knights of the quill played round the edges of the eddy, here and there darting in to waylay an acquaintance or renew their assurances with a friend.
The appearance of the troops was remarkably good. Indeed, that they should look so well only forty-eight hours after the most terrible storm of the season is a wonder, and excited no little comment on the part of spectators. Uniforms were clean, arms bright as new, equipments in splendid condition. Everything was in the finest style, and our Chief Magistrate could not but have felt a thrill of pride as he looked over the sea of bayonets, the blue coats and the determined faces. To-day the regiments are all in their camps; but dress parade seems dull to me. The drums seem to rattle feebly, the bands have lost the fulness of their melody, the bugles peal out alone, and then stop suddenly, as if started at their insignificance. Out on the field, trampled smooth and hard, a handful of cavalry is drilling, and up where the cannons stood and thundered their welcome to the President the boys play football. This afternoon we have another, but of very little importance compared with the grand turnout of yesterday.
Seeing such a massing of troops on this side of the river evidently disconcerted a good deal our friends on the other side. They certainly looked for some demonstration on our part, and put themselves in readiness for another Fredericksburg fight. At once their pickets on the banks of the river were doubled, and a lively movement of civilians, soldiers, horsemen and wagons took place from the city. They could be distinctly seen through field glasses making a rapid exodus on the opposite hills.