[CHAP. XLIII.

You will admit that this is not the way in which troops should be declared destitute of courage and valor; troops belonging to a division which on three battle-fields lost far more killed and wounded than it counted men when I was put in command and than it counts men to-day; and this is not the way to treat an officer, not one of whose subordinates will say that when he was in a place of danger his general was not with him. This is a levity which would not be admissible in the ordinary walks of life, much less in the military world, where every question of honor is weighed with scrupulous nicety. When looking at this most strange transaction, every impartial observer will ask himself, "What can have been the motive of this?" If the battle had been lost we might have found the motive in the desire of the commander to throw the responsibility upon some subordinate whom he might select as the unfortunate victim of his embarrassments. This, indeed, would not be noble nor even excusable, yet we can find the springs of such actions among the ordinary weaknesses of human nature. But we were victorious; the results of the action were uncommonly gratifying, and that General Hooker should then sit down and coolly endeavor to consign a fellow-soldier and part of his command to shame, and affectingly ornament the scene with the fanciful pyrotechnics of a terrific infantry fire flaming around imperiled companions-for that I seek the motive in vain.

Every candid mind will admit that such an act on such an occasion can have been called forth by one of two things only: either the grossest misconduct on the part of the subordinate, or a morbid desire to blame on the part of the commander. Public and official censures under such circumstances are so unusual that either the provocation must be enormous or the ill-will uncontrollable. It may be asked why the censure in the report is so ambiguous as to admit of an application to some brigade of mine as well as to myself. In my public life I have learned to understand the language of those who want to hurt. It is never more insidious than when it merely suggest and insinuates. By saying little that is positive, and saying that little obscurely, it opens a wide field for a malevolent imagination. Just enough is said in that report to give a hold to backbiting malignity, which now may point to an official document as proof, and suggestively add, no more was said in order not to ruin him. I appreciate this tenderness as well as I fully appreciate the elaborate flourish of language with which the greatness of the dangeris is so artistically, so touchingly, and yet so gratuitously, contrasted with the tardiness of the relief.

Here I will stop. I feel that I owe you an apology for the length and sweep of my remarks. When I entered the army I left, without regret, a position of ease and splendor. I might have led a life full of honor and enjoyment in other spheres of activity, but after having co-operated in the development of the ideas governing this country, I desired to share all its fortunes to the last. I entered upon this career with a heart full of enthusiasm and readiness for self-sacrifice. I have been quietly endeavoring to do my duty, with zeal but without ostentation. Knowing what material glory so frequently is made of, I did not crave for glory but for justice. Everybody that knows me will tell you that here, as elsewhere, I have been and am the most forbearing and inoffensive of men. And even in this case, I would have abstained from all sharpness of criticism had I not, by a series of occurrences, been tortured into the conviction that at last