The Continental Monthly, Vol. 6, No 4, August, 1864 | Page 4

on the hopes of
man. There, at last, we were brought face to face with hard facts. Talk,
in Congress, or out, was at an end. Voting and balloting, and
speech-making were ruled out of order. We had administered the

country, so far, by that machinery. It was puffed away at one discharge
of glazed powder. The cannon alone could get a hearing. The bullet and
the bayonet were the only arguments. No matter how it might end, we
were forced to accept the challenge. No matter how utterly we might
hate war, we were forced to try the last old persuasive--the naked
sword.
I cannot see how any honest and sensible man can now look back and
see any other course possible. Could we stand by and see our house
beaten into blackened ruin over our heads? Were we to talk 'peace,' and
use 'moral suasion' in the mouth of shotted cannon? Were we prepared
to see the Constitution and the law, bought by long years of toil and
blood, torn to tatters by the caprice of ambitious madmen? Fighting
became a simple duty in an hour! There was no escape. What a pity that
so many beautiful peace speeches (Charles Sumner's very eloquent
ones among the rest!) should have been proved mere froth and wasted
paper rags by one short telegram!
So the great evil came to us, as it has come to all nations, as we believe
it must come, from what we now see, to every nation that will be great
and strong. The land, for a time, staggered under the blow. Men's souls
for an hour were struck dumb, so sudden was it, so unlocked for. As
duty became clearer, we awaked at last to the fact that was at our doors.
We turned to deal with it, as the best nations always do, cheerfully and
hopefully. We have made mistakes and great ones. We have blundered
fearfully. That was to have been expected. But we have gone on,
nevertheless, steadfastly, patiently. That was also to have been
expected. For three years and over, this has been our business. We have
indeed carried on some commerce, and some manufactures, and some
agriculture, but our main work has been fighting. The rest have been
subsidiary to that. And the land groans and pants with this bloody toil.
It clothes itself in mourning and darkens its streets, and desolates its
homes, and bleeds its life drops slowly in its patient agony. But it never
falters. It has accepted the appointed work. It sees no outlook yet, no
chance for the bells to ring out peace over the roar of cannon, and it
stands at its post bleeding, but wrestling still.

Has there been nothing gained, however? For the terrible outlay is there
yet no return? Has the war been evil and only evil so far, even granting
that we do not finally succeed, according to our wish? The present
writer does not think so. He believes there have been gains already, and
great gains, not merely the gains that may be summed in the advance of
forces, in territory recovered, in cities taken, in enemies defeated, but
gains which, though not visible like these, are no less real and vastly
more valuable, gains which add to the nation's moral power, and
educate it for the future. He leaves to others the consideration of the
material gain, and desires to hint, at least, at this other, which is much
more likely to be slighted or perhaps forgotten.
He has said enough to show that he does not like this slaughtering
business in any shape. He is sure that the sooner it is ended the better.
He has had its bloody consequences brought, in their most fearful form,
to his own heart and home, but he has a fixed faith, nevertheless, that
any duty, conscientiously undertaken, any duty from which there is no
honorable or honest escape, must, if faithfully performed, obtain its
meet reward. And believing that this business of war has been
undertaken by the mass of the people of these United States in all
simplicity of heart and honesty of purpose, as an unavoidable and hard
necessity, he also believes they will get their honest wages for the
doing it. He believes, too, that the day of recompense is not entirely
delayed; that benefits, large and excellent, have already resulted to the
nation. He sees already visible uses, which, to some extent at least,
should comfort and sustain a people, even under the awful curse and
agony of a civil war. He writes to show these uses to others, that they
too may take heart and hope, when the days are darkest.
In the first place, this war is, at last, our national independence. To be
sure, we