1861.] ORGANIZATION OF THE "BOHEMIAN BRIGADE." 189

CHAPTER XV.

Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,

Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?-MERCHANT OF VENICE.

IN October, General Fremont's forming army rendezvoused at the capital of Missouri. From afar, Jefferson City is picturesque; but distance lends enchantment. Close inspection shows it uninviting and rough. The Capitol, upon a frowning hill, is a little suggestive of the sober old State House which overlooks Boston Common. Brick and frame houses enough for a population of three thousand straggle over an area of a mile square, as if they had been tossed up like a peck of apples, and left to come down and locate themselves. Many are half hidden by the locust, ailantus, and arbor-vitæ trees, and the white blossoms of the catalpas.

The war correspondents "smelled the battle from afar off." More than twenty collected two or three weeks before the army started. Some of them were very grave and decorous at home, but here they were like boys Jet out of school.

They styled themselves the Bohemian Brigade, and exhibited that touch of the vagabond which Irving charitably attributes to all poetic temperaments. They were quartered in a wretched little tavern eminently First Class in its prices. It was very southern, in style. A broad balcony in front, over a cool brick pavement; no two rooms upon the same level; no way of getting up stairs except by going out of doors; long, low wings, shooting off in all directions; a gallery in the rear, deeper than the house itself; heavy fur

190

AN AMUSED AFRICAN.

[1861

niture, from the last generation, with a single modern link in the shape of a piano in the ladies' parlor; leisurely negro waiters, including little boys and girls, standing behind guests at dinner, and waving long wands over the table to disconcert the omnipresent flies; and corn bread, hot biscuits, ham, and excellent coffee. The host and hostess were slaveholders, who said "thar" and "whar," but held that Secessionists were traitors, and that traitors ought to be hung.

The landlord, who was aged, rheumatic, and half blind, labored under the delusion that he kept the house; but an intelligent and middle-aged slave, yclept John, was the real brain of the establishment.

"John," asked one of the correspondents, "does your master really think he is alive?"

"Live, sir? I reckon so."

"Why, he has been dead these twenty years. He hobbles around, pretending he exists, just to save funeral expenses."

John's extravagant enjoyment of this sorry jest beggared description. He threw himself on the floor, rolled over and over, and roared with laughter for fifteen minutes. He did not recover his usual gravity for weeks. Again and again, while waiting upon guests, he would see his master coming, and suddenly explode with merriment, to the infinite amazement of the habitués of the house, who suspected that the negro was losing his wits.

The Bohemians took their ease in their inn, and held high carnival, to the astonishment of all its attachés, from the aged proprietor down to the half-fledged negro cherubs. Each seemed to regard as his personal property the half-dozen rooms which all occupied. The one who dressed carliest in the morning would appropriate the

1861.]

DIVERSIONS OF THE CORRESPONDENTS.

191

first hat, coat, and boots he found, remarking that the owner was probably dead.

One huge, good-natured brother they called "the Elephant." He was greatly addicted to sleeping in the daytime; and when other resources failed, some reckless quill-driver would say:

"Now, let's all go and sleep with the Elephant."

Eight or ten would pile themselves upon his bed, beside him and upon him, until his good-nature became exhausted, when the giant would toss them out of the room like so many pebbles, and lock his door.

There was little work to be done; so they discussed politics, art, society, and metaphysics; and would soon kindle into singing, reciting, "sky-larking," wrestling, flinging saddles, valises, and pillows. In some recent theatrical spectacle, two had heard a "chorus of fiends," which tickled their fancy. As the small hours approached, it was their unceasing delight to roar imitations of it, declaring, with each repetition, that it was now to be given positively for the last time, and by the very special request of the audience. How they sent that demoniac "Ha! ha! ha!" shrieking through the midnight air! The following account of their diversions was given by "J. G." in The Cincinnati Gazette. The scenes he witnessed suggested, very naturally, the nomenclature of the prize-ring:

Happening to drop in the other night, I found the representatives of The Missouri Republican, The Cincinnati Commercial, The New York World, and The Tribune, engaged in a hot discussion upon matrimony, which finally ran into metaphysics. The Republican having plumply disputed an abstruse proposition of The Tribune, the latter seized an immense bolster, and brought it down with emphasis upon the glossy pate of his antagonist. This instantly broke up the debate, and a general mêlée commenced. The Republican grabbed a damp towel and

192

A POLITE ARMY CHAPLAIN.

[1861. aimed a stunning blow at his assailant, which missed him and brought up against the nasal protuberance of Frank Leslie. The exasperated Frank dealt back a pillow, followed by a well-packed knapsack. Then The Missouri Democrat sent a coverlet, which lit upon and enveloped the knowledge-box of The Herald. The latter disengaged himself after several frantic efforts, and hurled a ponderous pair of saddle-bags, which passed so close to The Gazette's head, that in dodging it he bumped his phrenology against the bed-post, and raised a respectable organ where none existed before. Simultaneously The Commercial threw a haversack, which hit Harper in the bread-basket, and doubled him into a folio-knocking him against The World, who, toppling from his center of gravity, was poising a plethoric bed-tick with dire intent, when the upturned legs of a chair caught and tore it open, scattering the feathers through the surging atmosphere. In falling, he capsized the table, spilling the ink, wrecking several literary barks, extinguishing the "brief candle" that had faintly revealed the sanguinary fray, thus abruptly terminating hostilities, but leaving the panting heroes still defiant and undismayed. A light was at last struck; the combatants adjusted their toilets, and, having lit the calumets of peace, gently resigned themselves to the soothing influence of the weed.

They did not learn, for several days, that a meek chaplain, with his wife and three children, inhabited an adjacent apartment. He was at once sent for, and a fitting apology tendered. He replied that he had actually enjoyed the novel entertainment. He must have been the most polite man in the whole world. He is worthy a niche in biography, beside the lady who was showered with gravy, by Sidney Smith, and who, while it was still dripping from her chin, blandly replied to his apologies, that not a single drop had touched her!

When in-door diversions failed, the correspondents amused themselves by racing their horses, which were all fresh and excitable. That region, abounding in hills, ravines, and woods, is peculiarly seductive to reckless equestrians desiring dislocated limbs or broken necks.

One evening, the "Elephant" was thrown heavily

1801.]

SIGHTS IN JEFFERSON CITY.

193

from his horse, and severely lamed. The next night, nothing daunted, he repeated the race, and was hurled upon the ground with a force which destroyed his consciousness for three or four hours. A comrade, in attempting to stop the riderless horse, was dragged under the heels of his own animal. His mild, protesting look, as he lay flat upon his back, holding in both hands the uplifted, threatening foot of his fiery Pegasus, was quite beyond description. One correspondent dislocated his shoulder, and went home from the field before he heard a gun.

JEFFERSON CITY, Mo., October 6, 1861.

These deep ravines and this fathomless mud offer to obstinate mules unlimited facilities for shying, and infinite possibilities of miring. Last night, six animals and an army wagon went over a small precipice, and, after a series of somersaults, driver, wagon, and mules, reached the bottom, in a very chaotic condition.

Jefferson is strong on the wet weather question. When Lyon got here in June, he was welcomed by one man with an umbrella. When Fremont arrived, a few nights ago, he was taken in charge by the same gentleman, who was floundering about through the mud with a lantern, seeking, not an honest man, but quarters for the commanding general.

Most of the troops have gone forward, but some remain. Newly mounted officers, who sit upon their steeds much as an elephant might walk a tight rope, dash madly through the streets, fondly dreaming that they witch the world with noble horsemanship. Subalterns show a weakness for brass buttons, epaulettes, and gold braid, which leaves feminine vanity quite in the shade.

In the camps, the long roll is sometimes sounded at midnight, to accustom officers and men to spring to arms.