THE FULFILMENT OF DESTINY.

295

and could vent their party spleen against their kin in blood, and fellows in religion.

We know of no party in our present troubles; the word is here an empty sound. The only line which divides the people of the North, runs between the mass of loyal men who stand by their country, no matter to what place of political meeting they were used to resort, or with what accent they utter the language of the land, or what religion they profess, or what sentiments they may have uttered in the excitement of former discussions, on the one hand, and those on the other hand, who keep outside of that linetraitors to their country in the hour of need,-or those who allow themselves to be misled by shallow names, and by reminiscences which cling around those names from by-gone days, finding no application in a time which asks for things more sterling than names, theories, or platforms.

Ex. CXCVI.-THE FULFILMENT OF DESTINY.

Speech delivered in New York, April 11th, 1863.

ROSCOE CONKLING.

It seems to be a maxim in the economy of Providence, that the trials of a nation are in the ratio of its destinies. If it be poor and powerless,-if it have no empire and hold no position envied by the world,-it may escape the blasts of war, and languish for long intervals in unmolested calmness. But if it be rich and powerful, if it claim as its own one-tenth of the globe, if in the lifetime of a single man it grow to be the foremost power in all the earth, it must accept perils and struggles as the price of its greatness and

success.

If, besides being powerful, a people have set up institu tions in which no trace of aristocracy is tolerated, it has voluntarily elected to make its own soil the theatre of a contest which has been waging since time began between oppression and liberty. It is the mission and fore-ordained destiny of a people assuming to found and uphold a democratic government, to wrestle and grapple with the foes of Freedom within and without; and we had no right to expect to escape it.

Why should we? Why should we hope to elude the evil passions and instincts which have led men the world over to seek the destruction of equal rights and the aggrandizement of the few at the expense of the many. We knew that nowhere had men relinquished superior and exclusive privileges without a contest. Why should they do it here -here in the New World, the place reserved for republican government to vindicate itself forever, or to wither from the world?

Time and civilization and government had their morning not in the West but in the East. Dawn flushed, and yet centuries rolled by before light broke upon the Western Continent. Why was this? Why was half the globe kept hidden away behind a trackless waste of waters till the other half had been dug over and over to bury its dead? Why were progress and barbarism mewed up so long in the Old World, to solve in blood the problems of humanity?

Perhaps the New World was reserved till mankind should be fitted for a higher and better dispensation. Perhaps it was designed to withhold this inheritance from man until the race had been tried and instructed and exalted by the wisdom and the folly, the virtues and the vices, of wasted ages.

If this was the design, we can understand our mission and accept our responsibilities. If it is the mission of the American people to make their continent a garden for the growth of a new civilization, higher and better and truer than the world has ever known, we may understand the logic which permits blood to stain our land. If we maintain successfully that man needs no mortal master but himself, we bring forth a great new truth, and no great truth was ever yet born into the world without great pangs.

It cost great pangs to plant the germ of free government here, and the manner in which the experiment began might well convince the mind of faith that Providence had charge over it. The task was undertaken by a group of men whom no previous age could have produced. They were the victims of all the bad systems of government then extant, and they were called to devise a new system just when the world was ablaze with political intelligence. All the past was before them, and the French Revolution was just delivering its terrible message to mankind. Two forms of government had already been tried here. The Colonial system had been tested and thrown off. The Confederate system had been

THE HEART OF THE WAR.

297

fully tried, and found fit to live only through the Revolution it supported. The Fathers of the Republic, in their almost inspiration, saw clearly that a government to be enduring and free must be a Union, not of States but of the people, and they fashioned their work accordingly.

The Constitution, as our fathers made it, is the ark of our safety, and "except we abide in the ship we can not be saved." Let us cling to the ship which our fathers built and launched in darkness and tempests upon the tide of time; let us take heed lest she drift upon the rocks while we wrangle among ourselves; let us feel that our crowning infamy would be to lose the vessel from brawls among the crew. Rather than that this should happen, let her go down in the shock; rather let the harpies of Europe pluck the eagle of the sea; rather than pull down her colors ourselves,

"Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Stretch every threadbare sail,
And give her to the god of storms,
The lightning and the gale."

Ex. CXCVII.-THE HEART OF THE WAR.

DR. J. G. HOLLAND.

PEACE in the clover-scented air,
And stars within the dome;
And underneath, in dim repose,
A plain, New England home.
Within, a murmur of low tones

And sighs from hearts oppressed,
Merging in prayer, at last, that brings
The balm of silent rest.

"I've closed a hard day's work, Marty,—
The evening chores are done;
And you are weary with the house,
And with the little one.
But he is sleeping sweetly now,
With all our pretty brood;

So come and sit upon my knee,
And it will do me good.

Oh, Marty! I must tell you all
The trouble in my heart,
And you must do the best you can
To take and bear your part.
You've seen the shadow on my face,
You've felt it day and night;
For it has filled our little home,
And banished all its light.

I did not mean it should be so,
And yet I might have known
That hearts that live as close as ours
Can never keep their own.
But we are fallen on evil times,
And, do whate'er I may,

My heart grows sad about the war,
And sadder every day.

I think about it when I work,
And when I try to rest,

And never more than when your

Is pillowed on my breast;

head

For then I see the camp-fires blaze,

And sleeping men around,

Who turn their faces toward their homes,
And dream upon the ground.

I think about the dear, brave boys,
My mates in other years,

Who pine for home and those they love,

Till I am choked with tears.

With shouts and cheers they marched away

On glory's shining track,

But, ah! how long, how long they stay!
How few of them come back!

One sleeps beside the Tennessee,
And one beside the James,
And one fought on a gallant ship
And perished in its flames.

And some, struck down by foul disease,

Are breathing out their life;

And others, maimed by cruel wounds,

Have left the deadly strife.

THE HEART OF THE WAR.

Ah, Marty! Marty! only think
Of all the boys have done
And suffered in this weary war!
Brave heroes, every one!
Oh, often, often in the night,
I hear their voices call:

'Come on and help us! Is it right
That we should bear it all ? '

And when I kneel and try to pray,
My thoughts are never free,
But cling to those who toil and fight
And die for you and me.

And when I pray for victory,

It seems almost a sin

To fold my hands and ask for what
I will not help to win.

Oh! do not cling to me and cry,
For it will break my heart;
I'm sure you'd rather have me die

Than not to bear my part.

You think that some should stay at home

To care for those away;

But still I'm helpless to decide

If I should go or stay.

For, Marty, all the soldiers love,
And all are loved again;
And I am loved, and love, perhaps

No more than other men.

I can not tell-I do not know-
Which way my duty lies,

Or where the Lord would have me build
My fire of sacrifice.

I feel-I know-I am not mean;
And though I seem to boast,
I'm sure that I would give my life
To those who need it most.
Perhaps the Spirit will reveal

That which is fair and right;
So, Marty, let us humbly kneel
And pray to Heaven for light."

299