American literature; Pierce, Franklin, 1804-1869; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865
Accordingly we set out--a friend and myself--towards Washington, while it
was still the long, dreary January of our Northern year, though March in
name; nor were we unwilling to clip a little margin off the five months’
winter, during which there is nothing genial in New England save the
fireside. It was a clear, frosty morning, when we started. The sun
shone brightly on snow-covered hills in the neighborhood of Boston, and
burnished the surface of frozen ponds; and the wintry weather kept along
with us while we trundled through Worcester and Springfield, and all
those old, familiar towns, and through the village-cities of Connecticut.
In New York the streets were afloat with liquid mud and slosh. Over New
Jersey there was still a thin covering of snow, with the face of Nature
visible through the rents in her white shroud, though with little or no
symptom of reviving life. But when we reached Philadelphia, the air was
mild and balmy; there was but a patch or two of dingy winter here and
there, and the bare, brown fields about the city were ready to be green.
We had met the Spring half-way, in her slow progress from the South; and
if we kept onward at the same pace, and could get through the Rebel
lines, we should soon come to fresh grass, fruit-blossoms, green peas,
strawberries, and all such delights of early summer.
On our way, we heard many rumors of the war, but saw few signs of it.
The people were staid and decorous, according to their ordinary fashion;
and business seemed about as brisk as usual,--though, I suppose, it was
considerably diverted from its customary channels into warlike ones. In
the cities, especially in New York, there was a rather prominent display
of military goods at the shop windows,--such as swords with gilded
scabbards and trappings, epaulets, carabines, revolvers, and sometimes a
great iron cannon at the edge of the pavement, as if Mars had dropped
one of his pocket-pistols there, while hurrying to the field. As
railway-companions, we had now and then a volunteer in his French-gray
great-coat, returning from furlough, or a new-made officer travelling to
join his regiment, in his new-made uniform, which was perhaps all of the
military character that he had about him,--but proud of his eagle-buttons
and likely enough to do them honor before the gilt should be wholly
dimmed. The country, in short, so far as bustle and movement went, was
more quiet than in ordinary times, because so large a proportion of its
restless elements had been drawn towards the seat of the conflict. But
the air was full of a vague disturbance. To me, at least, it seemed so,
emerging from such a solitude as has been hinted at, and the more
impressible by rumors and indefinable presentiments, since I had not
lived, like other men, in an atmosphere of continual talk about the war.
A battle was momentarily expected on the Potomac; for, though our army
was still on the hither side of the river, all of us were looking towards
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