Memphis, Tenn. June 13, 1863.

 

Dear Sister:

                        You know how successful Oliver Wendell Holmes was in his "Autocrat of the Breakfast Table". Now do not imagine that I lay any claim to being a "Holmes"; no not the least. Nevertheness, having read his "Autocrat", and being charmed with it, and feeling a sort of quiet good humor, I propose to start a sort of imitation one. Don't expect much of me. My "Autocrat" will resemble his very little except in name, and only partially in that; for it being afternoon, we will call it

 

The Autocrat of the Tea Table.

Dramatis Personnae—The Autocrat and his family, including the Autocrat's brother's wife prospective. We will call his brother the Professor; the brother's wife prospective Mrs. Professor. The Autocrat / himself will not introduce his wife prospective, she being too far in the prospective yet for him to bring forward. But the Autocrat begins. Listen to him:

 

                        You know I have been trying soldier life of late, and a very charming sort of life do I find it in many respects too. The independent, simple way of living, the opportunities given one to gratify the spirit of roving adventure underlying the character of almost every one, have no small attractions. Then, crowning all, there is that quiet, calm feeling of satisfaction, at knowing one is in the path of duty. A very frugal, simple manner of life is ours as this present tea table testifies. (Contents of table: A Loaf of Bread; tin cups and tea. We have a little butter to-night, but that is not generally in the bill.) Not many luxuries; but then you know we have the substantials. Luxuries wouldn't do; they would enervate. (Mrs. Professor, take another cup of tea. Aside—I do wish the Professor would / leave the ladies a little of that butter. I am afraid the substantials don't agree with him. To all—help yourselves while it lasts, to anything on the table. Soldier's fare and table is free. "Every man for himself".)

 

                        I started by saying that I had been soldiering. Well, you know I had my friends at home, and as a matter of course from time to time they wrote to me. I of course found no great lack of material for letter writing, but I fear that sometimes my letters were not very suggestive; or else that there was a fearful dearth of something to write about at home. I wanted them to gossip to me you know, just as we would at the tea table at home. Will you believe it, one of my friends of a mathematical turn of mind once wrote me a short treatise on Algebra. (What ails the Professor? How very red he looks.) It happened however that the knowledge of this came to the ears of a certain young lady friend of mine, who / was also a quite intimate friend of his. She good naturedly reproved him, and coming to the rescue, helped my friend the next time, so that his next letter written under her guidance fully atoned. (Dear me! What ails Mr. Professor now? The air must be very close. Or perhaps the tea is rather warming.) Long may she live—and dictate my friend's letters.

 

                        I received a letter to-day from a sister of mine. I am always glad to hear from my friends, but then, you know one must have their favorites, and she was is one of mine. I like her letters; when I read them I seem to be setting down right in the old room at home, leaning back in my chair, whilst she is telling me the news. Everyone can't write interesting letters. It is a sort of natural accomplishment. She possesses it though. (A very confused, pleasant, rosy sort of countenance on the part of another of the Dramatis Personnae. The weather is warm and so is the tea. It seems to have a peculiar effect though to-night.) Amongst other things in her letter to-day she told me of a little match matrimonial. I had heard whisperings of it before, pretty loud whisperings too, but then I became isolated from society, and it had faded out of my mind. It is one of those strange freaks which love takes, when two young hearts intertwine, so different in nature that the outside world stands one side, and gapes with perfect astonishment. Mind you, not a word have I to say against the whole proceeding, nor in derogation of either; and yet, as one of the "outside world" I share in the general wonder. It is contrary to all my rules of affinity; but then love you know doesn't follow rules. It breaks down all barriers, and will not be directed. It really does me good to see its freaks in this way. I really wish this young couple much joy. I envy them the quiet satisfaction they will take, when in the sunlight of each others love, they can look out on the world with a quiet complacency, and smile at their wonder. It almost attracts me to do some like deed myself. Don't be alarmed though. The Autocrat don't seriously contemplate anything of the kind at present.

 

            Speaking about love, how very different a thing it is from the sentimentality of that class of novels who affect to treat of it. I would say nothing detracting of love. It is noble, godlike, divine. "God is Love". But it is practical also, and it has to do with frail flesh and blood. I have read love sick novels; novels that threw gave such a rosewater color to the tender passion, and threw around it such a sickly sentiment, utterly forgetting that it was practical, that one would think it was an undefined something which young ladies and men were to aspire to but could never reach. I acknowledge to being seriously misled by these books myself; in fact, to being led into some grievous mistakes. But the longer I live the more do I see the incongruity between the two. 

 

            I recollect that once upon a time a young friend of mine who had found his affinity in a very fine young lady, imagined that he had made a mistake, and that a certain other feminine was the person really loved. I have no doubt that it was a mistake due to these same novels. My friend came to me in his quandary. I at that time was young and inexperienced, and tinctured with the same false views, and gave him very little comfort. (A general smile. Mrs. Professor remarks with a smile, that my the Autocrat's hair is not greatly silvered with age yet. The Autocrat grows momentarily confused, but soon recovers) The two agree finally to refer the matter to a mutual friend. That friend counsels very sensibly; treated the whole thing excessively cooly we thought then But my friend followed her advice. The result was quite satisfactory. There is a marriage in near prospective. (The Professor looks very confusedly happy. Another of the Dramatis Personnae, ditto. Rest of / the company unconcerned.)

 

            But our tea is all gone, and I will weary you. One word more, and I will retire. I have told you that I am a soldier. Don't wonder then that I felt a feeling of intense indignation when I heard of a Copperhead meeting in my native place; when I heard that one whom I have I have met in a friendly manner in the social circle was Secretary of that meeting. You can scarcely imagine the bitterness with which we regard those men. Too cowardly to enter the field against us, they stay at home, and under covert of pretended friendship, would create division in our councils and secretly strike the death blow at us. The Army is a unit in its execration of such men. They hate them—intensely hate them; and there would be very little safety for them should our troops meet with them now. It rejoices me to hear that the particular young man aforesaid did meet with a rebuff from some of the loyal young ladies of home. Young / ladies, be firm, be true, be loyal. See to it that no man who is secretly striking at your brother or friend, is treated with favor by you.

 

            I have done. Let us retire.

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            Tell mother to be plain in the direction of her letters. I received a day or two since her letter of May 15 containing the receipt for the box. The direction looked so much like 37^th O.V.I. that it had been sent to that regiment. The box I never expect to see.

                                                                       

Write soon to

Your Brother,

George.

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