American literature; Pierce, Franklin, 1804-1869; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865
That was a noble fight. When was ever a better word spoken than that of
Commodore Smith, the father of the commander of the Congress, when he
heard that his son’s ship was surrendered? “Then Joe’s dead!” said he;
and so it proved. Nor can any warrior be more certain of enduring renown
than the gallant Morris, who fought so well the final battle of the old
system of naval warfare, and won glory for his country and himself out of
inevitable disaster and defeat. That last gun from the Cumberland, when
her deck was half submerged, sounded the requiem of many sinking ships.
Then went down all the navies of Europe and our own, Old Ironsides and
all, and Trafalgar and a thousand other fights became only a memory,
never to be acted over again; and thus our brave countrymen come last in
the long procession of heroic sailors that includes Blake and Nelson, and
so many mariners of England, and other mariners as brave as they, whose
renown is our native inheritance. There will be other battles, but no
more such tests of seamanship and manhood as the battles of the past;
and, moreover, the Millennium is certainly approaching, because human
strife is to be transferred from the heart and personality of man into
cunning contrivances of machinery, which by and by will fight out our
wars with only the clank and smash of iron, strewing the field with
broken engines, but damaging nobody’s little finger except by accident.
Such is obviously the tendency of modern improvement. But, in the mean
while, so long as manhood retains any part of its pristine value, no
country can afford to let gallantry like that of Morris and his crew, any
more than that of the brave Worden, pass unhonored and unrewarded. If
the Government do nothing, let the people take the matter into their own
hands, and cities give him swords, gold boxes, festivals of triumph, and,
if he needs it, heaps of gold. Let poets brood upon the theme, and make
themselves sensible how much of the past and future is contained within
its compass, till its spirit shall flash forth in the lightning of a
song!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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