the point of emancipation under certain well-defined conditions, and that, if he should not avail himself of the state of opinion, the opportunity afforded him might pass away, never to return with equal force; (2,) that foreign nations might base acknowledgment of the Confederacy on the defeats experienced by our armies in the last days of August, on the danger of Washington, and on the advance of Rebel armies to the Ohio, and he was determined that they should, if admitting the Confederacy to national rank, place themselves in the position of supporters of slavery; and, (3,) that the successes won by our army in Maryland, considering the disgraceful business at Harper’s Ferry, were not of that pronounced character which entitles us to assert any supremacy over the enemy as soldiers.  Something like this would seem to be the process through which President Lincoln arrived at the sound conclusion that the hour had come to strike a heavy blow at the enemy, and that he was the man for the hour.

Thus much for the Proclamation itself, the appearance of which indicates the beginning of a new period in the Secession contest, and shows that the American people are capable of conquering their prejudices, provided their schooling shall be sufficiently severe and costly.  But the Proclamation itself, and without any change in our military policy, cannot be expected to accomplish anything for the Federal cause.  Its doctrines must be enforced, if there is to be any practical effect from the change of position taken by the country and the President.  If the same want of capacity that has hitherto characterized the war on our part is to be exhibited hereafter, the Proclamation might as well have been levelled against the evils of intemperance as against the evils of slavery.  Never, since war began, has there been such imbecility displayed in waging it as we have contrived to display in our attacks on the enemies of the Union.  It used to be supposed that Austria was the slowest and the most stupid of military countries; but America has got ahead of Austria in the art of doing nothing—­or worse than nothing—­with myriads of men and millions of money.  We stand before the world a people to whom military success seems seldom possible, and, when possible, rarely useful.  If we win a victory, we spend weeks in contemplating its beauties, and never think of improving it.  Had one of our generals won the Battle of Jena, he would have rested for six weeks, and permitted the Prussian army to reorganize, instead of following it with that swiftness which alone can prevent brave men from speedily rallying after a lost battle.  Had one of them won Waterloo, he would not have dreamed of entering France, but would have liberally given to Napoleon all the time that should have been necessary for his recovery from so terrible a defeat.  They have nothing in them of the qualities even of old Bluecher, who never was counted a first-class commander.  Forbearance has never ceased to be a virtue with them.