The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No 3, September, 1862

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UP AND ACT.

The man who is not convinced, by this time, that the Union has come to
'the bitter need,' must be hard to convince. For more than one year we
have put off doing our _utmost_, and talked incessantly of the 'wants of
the enemy.' We have demonstrated a thousand times that they wanted
quinine and calomel, beef and brandy, with every other comfort, luxury,
and necessary, and have ended by discovering that they have forced every
man into their army; that they have, at all events, abundance of
corn-meal, raised by the negroes whom Northern Conservatism has dreaded
to free; that they are well supplied with arms from Abolition England,
and that every day finds them more and more warlike and inured to war.

Time was, we are told, when a bold, 'radical push' would have prevented
all this. Time was, when those who urged such vigorous and overwhelming
measures--and we were among them--were denounced as insane and
traitorous by the Northern Conservative press. Time was, when the
Irishman's policy of capturing a horse in a hundred-acre lot, 'by
surrounding him,' might have been advantageously exchanged for the more
direct course of going _at_ him. Time _was_, when there were very few
troops in Richmond. All this when time--and very precious time--was.

Just now, time _is_--and very little time to lose, either. The rebels,
it seems, can live on corn-meal and whisky as well under tents as they
once did in cabins. They are building rams and 'iron-clads,' and very
good ones. They have an immense army, and three or four millions of
negroes to plant for it and feed it. Hundreds of thousands of acres of
good corn-land are waving in the hot breezes of Dixie. These are facts
of the strongest kind--so strong that we have actually been compelled to
adopt some few of the 'radical and ruinous' measures advocated from the
beginning by 'an insane and fanatical band of traitors,' for whose blood
the New-York _Herald_ and its weakly ape, the Boston _Courier_, have not
yet ceased to howl or chatter. Negroes, it seems, are, after all, to be
employed sometimes, and all the work is not to be put upon soldiers who,
as the correspondent of the London _Times_ has truly said, have endured
disasters and sufferings caused by unpardonable neglect, such as _no_
European troops would have borne without revolt. It is even thought by
some hardy and very desperate 'radicals,' that negroes may be armed and
made to fight for the Union; in fact, it is quite possible that, should
the North succeed in resisting the South a year or two longer, or should
we undergo a few more _very_ great disasters, we may go so far as to
believe what a great French writer has declared in a work on Military
Art, that 'War is war, and he wages it best who injures his enemy most.'
We are aware of the horror which this fanatical radical, and, of course,
Abolitionist axiom, by a writer of the school of Napoleon, must inspire,
and therefore qualify the assertion by the word 'may.' For to believe
that the main props of the enemy are to be knocked away from under them,
and that we are to fairly fight them in _every_ way, involves a
desperate and un-Christian state of mind to which no one should yield,
and which would, in fact, be impious, nay, even un-democratic and
un-conservative.

It is true that by 'throwing grass' at the enemy, as President Lincoln
quaintly terms it, by the anaconda game, and above all, by constantly
yelling, 'No nigger!' and 'Down with the Abolitionists!' we have
contrived to lose some forty thousand good soldiers' lives by disease;
to stand where we were, and to have myriads of men paralyzed and kept
back from war just at the instant when their zeal was most needed. We
beg our readers to seriously reflect on this last fact. There are
numbers of essential and bold steps in this war, and against the enemy,
which _must_, in the ordinary course of events, be taken, as for
instance. General Hunter's policy of employing negroes, as General
Jackson did. With such a step, _honestly_ considered, no earthly
politics whatever has any thing to do. Yet every one of these sheer
necessities of war which a Napoleon would have grasped at the _first_,
have been promptly opposed as radical, traitorous, and infernal, by
those tories who are only waiting for the South to come in again to rush
and lick its hands as of old. Every measure, from the first arming of
troops down to the employment of blacks, has been fought by these
'reactionaries' savagely, step by step--we might add, in parenthesis,
that it has been amusing to see how they 'ate dirt,' took back their
words and praised these very measures, one by one, as soon as they saw
them taken up by the Administration. The _ecco la fica_ of Italian
history was a small humiliation to that which the 'democratic' press
presented when it glorified Lincoln's 'remuneration message,' and gilded
the pill by declaring it (Heaven knows how!) a splendid triumph over
Abolition--that same remuneration doctrine which, when urged in the
New-York _Tribune_, and in these pages, had been reviled as fearfully
'abolition!'

However, all these conservative attacks in succession on every measure
which any one could see would become necessities from a merely military
point of view, have had their inevitable result: they have got into the
West, and have aided Secession, as in many cases they were intended to
do. The plain, blunt man, seeing what _must_ be adopted if the war is to
be carried on in earnest, and yet hearing that these inevitable
expediencies were all 'abolition,' became confused and disheartened. So
that it is as true as Gospel, that in the West, where 'Abolition' has
kept one man back from the Union, 'Conservatism' has kept ten. And the
proof may be found that while in the West, as in the East, the better
educated, more intelligent, and more energetic minds, have at once
comprehended the necessities of the war, and dared the whole, 'call it
Abolition or not,' the blinder and more illiterate, who were afraid of
being 'called' Abolitionists, have kept back, or remained by Secession
altogether.

As we write, a striking proof of our news comes before us in a remark in
an influential and able Western conservative journal, the Nebraska
_News_, The remark in question is to the effect that the proposition
made by us in THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY, to partition the
confiscated real estate of the South among the soldiers of the Federal
army is nothing more nor less than 'a bribe for patriotism.' That is the
word.

Now, politics apart--abolition or no abolition--we presume there are not
ten rational men in the country who believe that the proposition to
colonize Texas in particular, with free labor, or to settle free
Northern soldiers in the cotton country of the South, is other than
judicious and common-sensible. If it will make our soldiers fight any
better, it certainly is not very much to be deprecated. To settle
disbanded volunteers in the South so as to gradually drive away slave
labor by the superior value of free labor on lands confiscated or
public, is certainly not a very reprehensible proposition. But it
originated, as all the more advanced political proposals of the day do,
with men who favor Emancipation, present or prospective, and _therefore_
it must be cried down! The worst possible construction is put upon it.
It is 'a bribe for patriotism,' and must not be thought of. 'Better lose
the victory,' says Conservatism, 'rather than inspire the zeal of our
soldiers by offering any tangible reward!' We beg our thousands of
readers in the army to note this. Since we first proposed in these
columns to _properly_ reward the army by giving to each man his share of
cotton-land, [we did not even go so far as to insist that the land
should absolutely be confiscated, knowing well, and declaring, that
Texas contains public land enough for this purpose,] the
democratic-conservative-pro-slavery press, especially of the West, has
attacked the scheme with unwonted vigor. For the West _understands_ the
strength latent in this proposal better than the East; it _knows_ what
can be done when free Northern vigor goes to planting and town-building;
it 'knows how the thing is done;' it 'has been there,' and sees in our
'bribe for patriotism' the most deadly blow ever struck at Southern
Aristocracy. Consequently those men who abuse Emancipation in its every
form, violently oppose our proposal to give the army such reward as
their services merit, and such as their residence in the South renders
peculiarly fit. It is 'a bribe;' it is extravagant; it--yes--it is
Abolition! The army is respectfully requested not to think of settling
in the South, but to hobble back to alms-houses in order that Democracy
may carry its elections and settle down in custom-houses and other snug
retreats.

And what do the anti-energy, anti-action, anti-contraband-digging,
anti-every thing practical and go-ahead in the war gentlemen propose to
give the soldier in exchange for his cotton-land? Let the soldier
examine coolly, if he can, the next bullet-wound in his leg. He will
perceive a puncture which will probably, when traced around the edge and
carefully copied, present that circular form generally assigned to
a--cipher. _This_ represents, we believe, with tolerable accuracy, what
the anti-actionists and reactionists propose to give the soldier as a
recompense for that leg. For so truly as we live, so true is it that
there is not _one_ anti-Emancipationist in the North who is not opposed
to settling the army or any portion of it in the South, simply because
to do any thing which may in any way interfere with 'the Institution,'
or jar Southern aristocracy, forms no part of their platform!

We believe this to be as plain a fact as was ever yet submitted to
living man.

Now, are we to go to work in earnest, to boldly grasp at every means of
honorable warfare, as France or England would do in our case, and
overwhelm the South, or are we going to let it alone? Are we, for years
to come, to slowly fight our way from one small war-expediency to
another, as it may please the mongrel puppies of Democracy to gradually
get their eyes opened or not? Are we to arm the blacks by and by, or
wait till they shall have planted another corn-crop for the enemy? Shall
we inspire the soldiers by promising them cotton-lands now, or wait till
we get to the street of By and By, which leads to the house of Never?
Would we like to have our victory now, or wait till we get it?

Up and act! We are waiting for grass to grow while the horse is
starving! Let the Administration no longer hold back, for lo! the people
are ready and willing, and one grasp at a fiercely brave, _decided_
policy would send a roar of approval from ocean to ocean. One tenth part
of the wild desire to adopt instant and energetic measures which is now
struggling into life among the people, would, if transferred to their
leaders, send opposition, North and South, howling to Hades. We find the
irrepressible discontent gathering around like a thunder-storm. It
reaches us in letters. We _know_ that it is growing tremendously in the
army--the discontent which demands a bold policy, active measures, and
one great overwhelming blow. Every woman cries for it--it is everywhere!
Mr. Lincoln, you have waited for the people, and we tell you that the
people are now ready. The three hundred thousand volunteers are coming
bravely on; but, we tell you, DRAFT! That's the thing. The very
word has already sent a chill through the South. _They_ have seen what
can be done by bold, overwhelming military measures; by driving _every_
man into arms; by being headlong and fearless; and know that it has put
them at once on equality with us--they, the half minority! And they
know, too, that when WE once begin the 'big game,' all will be up with
them. We have more than twice as many men here, and their own blacks are
but a broken reed. When we begin to _draft_, however, war will begin _in
earnest_. They dread that drafting far more than volunteering. They know
by experience, what we have not as yet learned, that drafting contains
many strange secrets of success. It is a _bold_ conscriptive measure,
and indicates serious strength and the _consciousness_ of strength in
government. Our government has hitherto lain half-asleep, half-awake, a
great, good-natured giant, now and then rolling over and crushing some
of the rats running over his bed, and now and then getting very badly
bitten. Wake up, Giant Samuel, all in the morning early! The rats are
coming down on thee, old friend, not by scores, but by tens of
thousands! Jump up, my jolly giant! for verily, things begin to look
serious. You must play the Wide-Awake game now; grasp your stick, knock
them right and left; call in the celebrated dog Halleck, who can kill
his thousand rats an hour, and cry to Sambo to carry out the dead and
bury them! It's rats _now_, friend Samuel, if it ever was!

Can not the North play the entire game, and shake out the bag, as well
as the South? They have bundled out every man and dollar, dog, cat, and
tenpenny nail into the war, and done it _gloriously_. They have stopped
at nothing, feared nothing, believed in nothing but victory. Now let the
North step out! Life and wife, lands and kin, will be of small value if
we are to lose this battle and become the citizens of a broken country,
going backward instead of forward--a country with a past, but no future.
Better draw every man into the army, and leave the women to hoe and
reap, ere we come to that. _Draft_, Abraham Lincoln--draft, in
GOD'S name! Let us have one rousing, tremendous pull at
victory! Send out such armies as never were seen before. The West has
grain enough to feed them, and tide what may betide, you can arm them.
Let us try what WE can do when it comes to the last emergency.

When we arise in our _full_ strength, England and France and the South
will be as gnats in the flame before us. And there is no time to lose.
France is 'tinkering away' at Mexico; foreign cannon are to pass from
Mexico into the South; our foe is considering the aggressive policy.
Abraham Lincoln, _the time has come!_ Canada is to attack from the
North, and France from Mexico. Your three hundred thousand are a trifle;
draw out your million; draw the last man who can bear arms--_and let it
be done quickly!_ This is your policy. Let the blows rain thick and
fast. Hurrah! Uncle Samuel--the rats are running! Strike quick,
though--_very_ quick--and you will be saved!

REMINISCENCES OF ANDREW JACKSON.

All public exhibitions have their peculiar physiognomies. During the
passage of General Jackson through Philadelphia, there was a very strong
party opposed to him, which gave a feature to the show differing from
others we had witnessed, but which became subdued in a degree by his
appearance. A firm and imposing figure on horseback, General Jackson was
perfectly at home in the saddle. Dressed in black, with a broad-brimmed
white beaver hat, craped in consequence of the recent death of his wife,
he bowed with composed ease and a somewhat military grace to the
multitude. His tall, thin, bony frame, surmounted by a venerable,
weather-beaten, strongly-lined and original countenance, with stiff,
upright, gray hair, changed the opinion which some had previously
formed. His military services were important, his career undoubtedly
patriotic; but he had interfered with many and deep interests. There was
much dissentient humming.

The General bowed right and left, lifting his hat often from his head,
appearing at the same time dignified and kind. When the cavalcade first
marched down Chestnut street, there was no immediate escort, or it did
not act efficiently. Rude fellows on horseback, of the roughest
description, sat sideling on their torn saddles just before the
President, gazing vacantly in his face as they would from the gallery of
a theatre, but interrupting the view of his person from other portions
of the public.

James Reeside, the celebrated mail-contractor, became very much provoked
at one of these fellows. Reeside rode a powerful horse before the
President, and with a heavy, long-lashed riding-whip in his hand,
attempted to drive the man's broken-down steed out of the way. But the
animal was as impervious to feeling as the rider to sense or decency,
and Reeside had little influence over a dense crowd, till the escort
exercised a proper authority in front. I saw the General smile at
Reeside's eagerness to clear the way for him. Of course, this sketch is
a glimpse at a certain point where the procession passed me. I viewed it
again in Arch street, and noticed the calmness with which the General
saluted a crowd of negroes who suddenly gave him a hearty cheer from the
wall of a graveyard where they were perched. He had just taken off his
hat to some ladies waving handkerchiefs on the opposite side of the
street, when he heard the huzza, and replied by a salutation to the
unexpected but not despised color.

After the fatigue of the parade, when invited to take some refreshment,
Jackson asked for boiled rice and milk at dinner. There was some slight
delay to procure them, but he declined any thing else.

I recollect an anecdote of Daniel Webster in relation to General
Jackson, which I wish to preserve. On some public occasion, an
entertainment was given, under large tents, near Point-no-Point, in
Philadelphia county, which the representatives to the Legislature were
generally invited to attend. Political antipathies and prejudices were
excessive at that day. No moderate person was tolerated, in the
slightest degree, by the more violent opponents of the Administration.
Mr. Webster was present, and rose to speak. His intelligent and serious
air of grave thought was impressively felt. He spoke his objections to a
certain policy of the Administration with a gentle firmness. I sat near
him. One of his intolerant friends made an inquiry, either at the close
of a short dinner-table address, or during his speech, if 'he was not
still in the practice of visiting at the White House?' I saw Webster's
brow become clouded, as he calmly but slowly explained, 'His position as
Senator required him to have occasional intercourse with the President
of the United States, whose views upon some points of national policy
differed widely from those he (Webster) was well known to entertain;'
when, as if his noble spirit became suddenly aware of the narrow
meanness that had induced the question, he raised himself to his full
hight, and looking firmly at his audience, with a pause, till he caught
the eye of the inquirer, he continued: 'I hope to God, gentlemen, never
to live to see the day when a Senator of the United States _can not_
call upon the Chief Magistrate of the nation, on account of _any_
differences in opinion either may possess upon public affairs!' This
honorable, patriotic, and liberal expression was most cordially
applauded by all parties. Many left that meeting with a sense of relief
from the oppression of political intolerance, so nearly allied to the
tyranny of religious bigotry.

I had been introduced, and was sitting with a number of gentlemen in a
circle round the fire of the President's room, when James Buchanan
presented himself for the first time, as a Senator of the United States
from his native State. 'I am happy to see you, Mr. Buchanan,' said
General Jackson, rising and shaking him heartily by the hand, 'both
personally and politically. Sit down, sir.' The conversation was social.
Some one brought in a lighted corn-cob pipe, with a long reed-stalk, for
the President to smoke. He appeared waiting for it. As he puffed at it,
a Western man asked some question about the fire which had been reported
at the Hermitage. The answer made was, 'it had not been much injured,' I
think, 'but the family had moved temporarily into a log-house,' in
which, the General observed, 'he had spent some of the happiest days of
his life.' He then, as if excited by old recollections, told us he had
an excellent plantation, fine cattle, noble horses, a large still-house,
and so on. 'Why, General,' laughed his Western friend, 'I thought I saw
your name, the other day, along with those of other prominent men,
advocating the cold-water system?' 'I did sign something of the kind,'
replied the veteran, very coolly puffing at his pipe, 'but I had a very
good distillery, for all that!' Before markets became convenient, almost
all large plantations had stills to use up the surplus grains, which
could not be sold to a profit near home. Tanneries and blacksmiths'
shops were also accompaniments, for essential convenience.

Martin, the President's door-keeper, was very independent, at times, to
visitors at the White House, especially if he had been indulging with
his friends, as was now and then the case. But he was somewhat
privileged, on account of his fidelity and humor. Upon one occasion he
gave great offense to some water-drinking Democrats--rather a rare
specimen at that day--who complained to the President. He promised to
speak to Martin about it. The first opportunity--early, while Martin was
cool--the President sent for him in private, and mentioned the
objection. 'Och! Jineral, dear!' said Martin, looking him earnestly in
the face, 'I'de hev enough to do ef I give ear to all the nonsense
people tell me, even about yerself, Jineral! I wonther _who_ folks don't
complain about, now-a-days? But if they are friends of yours, Jineral,
they maybe hed cause, ef I could only recollict what it was! So we'll
jist let it pass by this time, ef you plase, sur!' Martin remained in
his station. When the successor of Mr. Van Buren came in, the
door-keeper presented himself soon after to the new President, with the
civil inquiry: 'I suppose I'll hev to flit, too, with the _other_
Martin?' He was smilingly told to be easy.

I saw General Jackson riding in an open carriage, in earnest
conversation with his successor, as I was on the way to the Capitol to
witness the inaugural oath. A few days after, I shook hands with him for
the last time, as he sat in a railroad-car, about to leave Washington
for the West. Crowds of all classes leaped up to offer such salutations,
all of whom he received with the same easy, courteous, decided manner he
had exhibited on other occasions.

SHAKSPEARE'S CARICATURE OF RICHARD III.

'The youth of England have been said to take their religion from Milton,
and their history from Shakspeare:' and as far as they draw the
character of the last royal Plantagenet from the bloody ogre which every
grand tragedian has delighted to personate, they set up invention on the
pedestal of fact, and prefer slander to truth. Even from the opening
soliloquy, Shakspeare traduces, misrepresents, vilifies the man he had
interested motives in making infamous; while at the death of Jack Cade,
a cutting address is made to the future monarch upon his deformity, just
TWO _years before his birth!_ There is no sufficient authority for his
having been

'Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half-made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable,
The dogs bark at me, as I halt by them.'

A Scotch commission addressed him with praise of the 'princely majesty
and royal authority sparkling in his face.' Rev. Dr. Shaw's discourse to
the Londoners, dwells upon the Protector's likeness to the noble Duke,
his father: his mother was a beauty, his brothers were handsome: a
monstrous contrast on Richard's part would have been alluded to by the
accurate Philip de Comines: the only remaining print of his person is at
least fair: the immensely heavy armor of the times may have bowed his
form a little, and no doubt he was pale, and a little higher shouldered
on the right than the left side: but, if Anne always loved him, as is
now proved, and the princess Elizabeth sought his affection after the
Queen's decease, he could not have been the hideous dwarf at which dogs
howl. Nay, so far from there being an atom of truth in that famous
wooing scene which provokes from Richard the sarcasm:

'Was ever woman in this humor wooed?
Was ever woman in this humor won?'

Richard actually detected her in the disguise of a kitchen-girl, at
London, and renewed his early attachment in the court of the Archbishop
of York. And while Anne was never in her lifetime charged with
insensibility to the death of her relatives, or lack of feeling, she
died not from any cruelty of his, but from weakness, and especially from
grief over her boy's sudden decease. Richard indeed 'loved her early,
loved her late,' and could neither have desired nor designed a calamity
which lost him many English hearts. The burial of Henry VI. Richard
himself solemnized with great state; a favor that no one of Henry's
party was brave and generous enough to return to the last crowned head
of the rival house.

Gloucester did not need to urge on the well-deserved doom of Clarence:
both Houses of Parliament voted it; King Edward plead for it; the
omnipotent relatives of the Queen hastened it with characteristic
malice; they may have honestly believed that the peaceful succession of
the crown was in peril so long as this plotting traitor lived. No doubt
it was.

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