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ACELDAMA.
JULY 1, 1862.
I SEE the fair new summer moon
Gliding along the tranquil sky;
It lights that field of blood
where soon
Thousands must die!
Are dying—as we talk by starts,
With hushed low voices full of
awe,
Of woe to come, and breaking
hearts,
The end of war!
The horses' bridles even now
Are red with blood, the trampled
field
Is reaped. War's sickle as the
plow
Counts up its yield.
Night's languid perfumes,
summer's breath
We breathe with sickening
thoughts; for there Sulphurous, scorching, charged with Death,
Weighs down the air.
Earth puts on Paradise for us:
Their straining eyes have looked
on hell!
Its torments, anguish, curse,
Around them swell.
Men changed to demons! hate and
rage Lighting the dying fires of life
To hurl with oath and shout the
gage
Of hellish strife.
Black parching lips and glazing
eyes
Turned upward to this fair, soft
light! Shrieks, babbling, praying, moaning cries
Wear out the night.
This is the harvest of the tares
Sown while men slept. Oh fatal
sleep!
Alas, what crimson sheaves it
bears!
And all must reap!
Shall yet a fair harvest spring
From ground now nurtured by this
blood?
Shall we a future paean sing
Of praise to God?
He only knows. Faith's eyes are
dim
With bitter weeping for the
slain.
A Nation's trust, placed all on
Him,
Seems now in vain,
God hides himself. No wail, no
cry
Can pierce the cloud, the end
foresee; Beneath His silence dumb we lie—
His "needs must be."
We need this anguish of suspense
To search our hearts and try our
lives,
Till Faith, and not its proud
pretense,
Alone survives.
HARPER'S WEEKLY.
SATURDAY, JULY 19, 1862.
AFTER one of the most exciting
weeks of the war, we can at last thank God that the
Army of the Potomac is safe, and is in reality
nearer the accomplishment of the work that it has been appointed to do than it
has ever been. That
General McClellan was placed in a position of
danger by the sudden appearance of Jackson's army on his right flank, and that
in the six battles which occurred on 26th, 27th, 28th, 29th, and 30th June, and
1st July, we lost a large number of gallant men and officers, is true. But it is
also true that the change of base from the Pamunky to the
James River had been determined, and actually
begun, before Jackson made his appearance. It is also true that, notwithstanding
the furious attacks of enormous rebel armies, McClellan's forces moved toward
the James River by the roads and at the rate directed by their commander; and
after five days' terrible fighting, reached the point he had selected for them
ten days previously. At every point which our forces reached in their march to
the James River their provident leader had planted on each height heavy
batteries of cannon, whose fire mowed down the pursuing rebels by whole
battalions and brigades. Lastly, it is also true that, while we may have lost
from 15,000 to 18,000 men in killed, wounded, and missing, we have gained the
support of the James River gun-boat flotilla, which is worth an army of 100,000
men.
On the other hand, the rebels,
who, according to the papers, are returning thanks for a victory, have suffered
so terribly that prisoners estimate their loss at 40,000, and General Andrew
Porter at 75,000 men. They have gained possession of the swamps where we have
lost so many men by fever—nothing more.
On the whole, then, we have
gained more than we have lost, and the rebels have lost more than they have
gained, by the series of battles ending on 1st July. And now, if McClellan is
promptly reinforced, and if
Commodore Wilkes displays the energy which he
has shown in other days, we shall soon see how absurd and wretched
it was to talk of McClellan's
movement as a reverse. Never was there a moment when it was more opportune to
renew the cry, On to Richmond!
FOREIGN INTERVENTION ONCE
MORE.
THE London Herald, a paper which,
having long ago ceased to be profitable as a mercantile speculation, is now
carried on at the expense of the secessionists in England; the Paris Patrie,
whose leading editors are owned by
John Slidell; and certain persons in this
country whose loyalty is generally distrusted, continue to harp upon the subject
of foreign intervention in our war. The open secessionists urge Great Britain
and France to interfere; their covert allies affect to fear that they will do
so. The object of both is nothing more than to dishearten the North and
encourage the South.
For none of them really believe
that intervention is at all likely.
There has been, however, so much
said on the subject, and so many respectable people seem to entertain vague
apprehensions of foreign troubles, that it is worth while to consider the
prospect seriously.
It is due to truth to say that
international law affords no guarantee against foreign intervention. That law
certainly denies, in general terms, the right of interference by one nation in
the affairs of another. But it concedes that right when the course of events in
any one nation menaces, directly or remotely, the peace or safety of its
neighbors—those neighbors being, of course, the judges of what constitutes a
menace. And it further concedes the right of intervention whenever "the
interests of humanity" call for it; the intervening powers being again the
judges of the nature of the exigency.
Thus, in 1854, war existing
between Russia and Turkey, three other European Powers, having large interests
in the Mediterranean, which they considered to be menaced by the steady
encroachments of Russia upon Turkey, made war upon the Czar and compelled him to
stay, at least for a time, the advance of his flag in that direction.
So, in 1827, war having existed
for many years between Turkey and her revolted province, Greece, and the war
being prosecuted with circumstances of the most savage ferocity by the Turks,
three European Powers, Great Britain, France, and Russia intervened, in the
interests of humanity, recognized the independence of Greece, destroyed the
Turkish fleet, and placed a German prince on the Greek throne.
It would be very easy to show
that the success of the Union arms involves no menace to Europe and no detriment
to humanity. Frequent allusions have been made to the combined intervention in
Greece as constituting a precedent for a similar proceeding in regard to the
contest here. But the facts do not justify this view. The Greeks actually took
up arms against their Turkish oppressors in the year 1770—five years before the
American colonies fired the first shot for independence; it was not till
fifty-seven years afterward that Europe intervened. Fifty-seven years hence, if
we have not suppressed the rebellion, Europe will be welcome to send embassadors
to Richmond. From 1792 to 1827 there never was a period of three months during
which the Greeks were not fighting, in some part of their country, for their
independence. Yet during all these years Europe never interfered, though the
Greeks were Christians and their oppressors Turks; though, in 1821, every Greek
who could be found in any Turkish city was brutally butchered; though, in 1822,
Kara Ali absolutely depopulated the Greek island of Scio, slaughtering every
male, and selling so many young girls into slavery that the price of slaves for
the harem fell fifty per cent.; though, in 1825, '26, '27, Ibrahim Paella in the
Morea cropped the ears of every prisoner he took, and then blew the mutilated
bodies out of cannons. The writers who say that the same reasons which justified
intervention in Greece would likewise justify intervention in the United States
are evidently not familiar with the facts.
But it is clear that, if it was
manifestly the interest of Great Britain and France to interfere in our war,
they would find law and reasons for so doing. It is therefore of more
consequence to us to find out where their interest lies in the matter than to
trouble ourselves about laws and precedents.
The first overt act of
interference by any foreign power would he instantly met by a declaration of war
by the United States. Pending the rebellion, this country will patiently endure
almost any amount of humiliation from the foreign world. But interference is
war. This is well understood—in Europe as here. It would be a sore trial to us.
But we could stand it. Instead of 600,000 men we should put 1,200,000 in the
field, besides 150,000 negroes. Instead of $300,000,000, Congress would
authorize
Mr. Chase to issue $1,000,000,000 of Treasury
Notes. Arrangements have already been made by which, in the fall, our
iron-clad navy will be equal to that of France
and England combined: we should, in the event of a foreign war, double that navy
at once. The first of the new iron-clad ships in England is not to be launched
till February, 1863: it is probable that neither power
now has a single iron-clad vessel
which they would trust on the American coast. The
Monitor, as is known, would sink the Warrior in
about ten minutes. So much for us. Now for Europe.
In deciding to intervene in this
country the Emperor of France and the Prime Minister of Great Britain would have
to address their respective nations somewhat as follows:
"We have resolved to make war
upon the United States because they are in trouble. We have no quarrel with
them. On the contrary, our relations with that Power were never more amicable
than they are at present, and by act and deed the Administration of
Mr. Lincoln have testified their ardent desire
to remain on friendly terms with us. We go to war with them for the purpose of
destroying the Union, and securing the establishment of a new Confederacy based
on the corner-stone of human
slavery — an institution which we loathe and
abhor, which we have abolished in our own colonies, and the extension of which
we are making treaties and spending large sums of money every year to prevent.
Our enemies in this war will be a race of people with whom—since 1812—we have
never had any serious misunderstanding: our allies will be the slaveholding
aristocracy, whose principle of government will be filibustering aggrandizement,
who have already twice attempted to wrest Cuba from Spain, and whose President,
at this early stage, already announces, in his letter to Governor Brown, of
Georgia, his intention of making war upon his neighbors generally for the
purpose of extending the sphere of slave territory. If we succeed in our object,
the first victims of the rapacity of the new Confederacy will probably be our
own colonies and those of our any Spain. This war will naturally involve some
sacrifices. You are already paying pretty heavy taxes—about as heavy as many of
you think you can bear. The war will double them. You are already suffering from
the reduction of your trade with the United States in consequence of the
rebellion. The war will destroy that trade altogether. You will not only sell no
goods at all to the Americans, and get no cotton whatever, but you will get from
them no gold, no breadstuffs, and no provisions. Food will advance from 20 to 50
per cent. in all your markets. Your foreign trade, if not destroyed altogether,
will be prosecuted under circumstances of peculiar peril. American ships of war
will at least endeavor to cut off your communication with India, Australia, the
West Indies, and South America; the experience of 1812, when the American navy
was less than one-fiftieth what it is at present, shows what can be done in this
direction. In the mean time it will be necessary for you to keep a sharp eye on
dangers at home. A large and powerful party in Ireland would doubtless embrace
the opportunity of a war with the United States to strike a fresh blow for
independence. In France the 'dangerous classes' would require very close
watching indeed. And finally, we learn with regret that Mr. Cameron, United
States Minister to St. Petersburg, is carrying on a negotiation with Russia
which may lead to very serious complications after our new war with the United
States has broken out."
Such would have to be the
language of the rulers of the maritime powers of Europe in announcing to their
people their intention to interfere in this country. It is easy to understand
what would be the response of the people.
No man, in this changing and
uncertain world, can be certain of the future. Men and nations have often acted
as it seemed absurd and impossible for them to act. But certainly, as the case
now stands, it seems gratuitous and absurd to doubt the sincerity of the
emphatic declarations of the British and French Governments that they have no
intention whatever of interfering in our quarrel.
THE RETORT
COURTEOUS.
A DISTINGUISHED American
conversing, a few days since, in Paris, with M. THOUVENEL, the French Minister
of State, was asked rather impatiently by the Frenchman,
"But, Sir, how much time do you
want to take Richmond? How long must we wait?"
"I think, Monsieur, with great
respect," was the courteous reply of our countryman, "that we shall be satisfied
if we are granted as much time as the allies took to reduce Sebastopol."
M. THOUVENEL changed the subject.
THE
LOUNGER.
OUR HEROES.
IT is impossible not to feel that
there is a great deal that is consoling and inspiring even in the terrible
battle and prolonged delay before Richmond. It was one of the longest battles
recorded in history. It was a contest between an overwhelming mass of desperate
men, standing upon their own soil, well armed, ably led, terribly in earnest,
and a smaller body of heroes, upon a strange soil, and inspired with the
knowledge that they fought for the very principle of liberty and human
civilization.
The battle raged for a week. Our
men, fighting like tigers, slowly fell back, disputing every inch of the way,
but neither routed nor appalled, and in retreating merely compacting themselves
and forming a better base of
operations. In the very wild height of the battle, after it had raged for nearly
a week, the gaunt, gray figure of Hentzelman towers along his line, invoking his
staggering but undaunted soldiers to strike once more and charge; and with a
fierce, grim will, not furiously dashing—they are too utterly spent for
that—they launch themselves slowly, steadily, overwhelmingly upon the yelling
and exultant foe, on and on, breathing death as they come!—on and on; not a
lightning flash, but a lava stream—until, hopelessly swept along, the foe fall
away before them in wild dismay, and the last blow of the long conflict is a
ghastly victory of ours!
The persistent bravery of our men
through the bloody and dreadful week redeems the story of our delay. They have
shown the most splendid qualities. Their conduct is the earnest of success. The
result is a lesson by which we are wise enough to profit. It is a disappointment
that we are not in Richmond—but that is still, and literally, only a question of
time. If the people who have not marched to the battle-field are worthy of those
who have, the delay will be only a challenge which will be gladly accepted and
answered by hordes of men. If we have received a blow, so have the enemy. If we
have not succeeded, it is no victory for them.
After
Bull Run we had a right to doubt the result,
because it seemed as if we were cowards. After the
Chickahominy we have a right to be sure of our
final triumph, because of the splendor of our heroism. We are learning war. It
is a dreadful lesson, in a fearful school. But it will save us untold horrors
hereafter.
McCLELLAN.
WHEN Lexington, in Missouri,
fell, and Mulligan was captured, even the most faithful supporters of
General Fremont shook their heads. They did not
admit that he was responsible, but they said under the circumstances the public
sentiment will doubtless acquiesce in his removal. But Fremont instantly
advanced in person, drove the enemy before him to the Arkansas line, and, in the
moment that he awaited a battle, received his recall.
This Lounger's faith in General
Fremont did not fall with
Lexington, nor has his confidence in General
M'Clellan fallen back with his army. Look at the simple fact.
McClellan hoped to take Richmond,
and failed. The enemy hoped to annihilate him, and were beaten back. They
marched out a hundred and twenty or thirty or forty thousand strong, and fell
upon McClellan with eighty or ninety thousand men posted in a swamp and across a
river. The foe fought with furious energy, conscious that they must crush him,
or his retreat would be their defeat. For a week he resisted them with heroic,
with magnificent bravery, retiring not only without panic, but with splendid and
terrible sallies of his troops, and at last, reaching his position, turns and
drives back the swarming hordes of rebels, and remains fast and impregnable upon
his new line of operations.
Of course Richmond, and not
Harrison's Landing, was the point that McClellan hoped to reach. But equally, of
course, McClellan's annihilation or surrender was the necessary result to
constitute a rebel victory. That our General brought his men through such an
overwhelming storm of battle safely to the James does not prove him a poor
soldier. That he was outnumbered is surely no fault of his. We must remember
that immediately after the evacuation of
Yorktown, before
Beauregard's army reinforced Richmond,
M'Clellan said that the enemy was stronger than he. Let us be fair. If he did
not win the battle against overpowering odds, he prevented the foe from winning
it.
THE LESSON OF THE DAY.
EVERY event in this war teaches
us the same lesson. It is as old as human history, but it is hard to learn. It
has been urged a hundred times in this struggle of ours, and a hundred times
forgotten. It is very simple, for it is only, don't despise your enemy.
From the beginning we have been
told that the rebels had no money, no food, no ammunition: that they were
demoralized, disheartened, and coerced: that their cause was hopeless, and the
issue only a question of a little time; that they were good at a dash, but had
no persistence and would soon tire of a profitless and overwhelming war. Several
times they have been on their last legs. Several times the back of the rebellion
has been broken. The "end" has been "approaching" for a long time: and the
staidest and most suspicious papers have occasionally predicted the very day
when the national flag would float serene over every inch of the national
domain.
We have all shared this happy
confidence. These columns have not failed to express it, nor will they ever
doubt the success of the nation in subduing this revolt. But let us be childish
no longer. The suggestion of the loyal Governors is the prompting of the
national heart. It is perfectly clear now, that if we had had a million of men
more or less enrolled, and armed as rapidly as possible, we should have taken no
steps backward, and the world could not have had the least doubt as to the
prospects of the revolt.
Let us henceforth remember that
this is a civil war;
that the hate of men who have been fellow-citizens is a hundred-fold more bitter
than the hate of foreigners; that the rebels feel their cause to be as sacred as
ever our fathers or any people thought theirs to be; that they have for long
years been taught to hate us and despise us; that the mass of them are
profoundly ignorant and poor, and that their prejudice against us is malignant;
that they look upon our army as an invading host, coming to waste their homes
and insult their families; and that by a thousand reasons of conviction,
passion, ignorance, and fear, they are practically united in opposition to the
Government. Moreover, a people so inflamed and desperate, occupying 800,000 (Next
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