confirm this view of what occurred on it: the
heavy loss of the Scotch, the small loss of the English,
and the all but total destruction of the Royal army.
That Cromwell should make the most of his victory,
of the “crowning mercy,” as he hoped it
might prove, was natural enough. Nothing is more
common than for the victor to sound the praises of
the vanquished, that being a delicate form of self-praise.
If they were so clever and so brave, how much greater
must have been the cleverness and bravery of the man
who conquered them? The difficulty is in inducing
the vanquished to praise the victor. We have no
doubt that General Beauregard speaks very handsomely
of General McDowell; but how speaks General McDowell
of General Beauregard? Wellington often spoke
well of Napoleon’s conduct in the campaign of
1815; but among the bitterest things ever said by
one great man of another great man are Napoleon’s
criticisms on the conduct of Wellington in that campaign.
We are not to suppose that Wellington was a more magnanimous
person than Napoleon, which he assuredly was not;
but he was praising himself, after an allowable fashion,
when he praised Napoleon. There would have been
a complete change of words in the mouths of the two
men, had the result of Waterloo been, as it should
have been, favorable to the French. Napoleon
said that he never saw the Prussians behave well but
at Jena, where he broke the army of the Great Frederick
to pieces. He had not a word to say in praise
of the Prussians who fought at the Katzbach, at Dennewitz,
and at Waterloo. Human nature is a very small
thing even in very great men.
As we see that the Roundheads triumphed in England,
notwithstanding the panics from which their armies
suffered, subduing the descendants of the conquering
chivalry of Normandy, “to whom victory and triumph
were traditional, habitual, hereditary things,”
may we not hope that the American descendants and
successors of the Roundheads will be able to subdue
the descendants of the conquered chivalry of the South,
a chivalry that has as many parents as had the Romans
who proceeded from the loins of the “robbers
and reivers” who had been assembled, as per
proclamation, at the Rogues’ Asylum on the Palatine
Hill? The bravery of the Southern troops is not
to be questioned, and it never has been questioned
by sensible men; but their pretensions to Cavalier
descent are at the head of the long list of historical
false pretences, and tend to destroy all confidence
in their words. They may be aristocrats, but
they have not the shadow of a claim to aristocratical
origin.
Lord Macaulay’s brilliant account of the Battle
of Landen (July 19, 1693) establishes the fact, that
it is possible for an army of veterans, led by some
of the best officers of their time, to become panic-stricken
while defending intrenchments and a strong position.
“A little after four in the afternoon,”
he says, “the whole line gave way.”
“Amidst the rout and uproar, while arms and