To obtain victory, two things are needed: first, a precise comprehension of the case, and, secondly, vigor of conduct. One will not do without the other. It will not be enough to comprehend the case, unless you are ready to treat it with corresponding vigor. And it will not be enough to have vigor, unless you discern clearly how the case shall be treated. To this end there must be statesmen as well as generals.
The first duty of the good physician is to understand the condition of his patient,—whether it is a case of medicine or surgery, of cutaneous eruption or deep-seated cancer. This is called diagnosis. Of course, if this fails, the whole treatment will be a failure. But the statesman, in all the troubles of his country, has the same preliminary duty. He, too, must see whether it is a case for medicine or surgery, of cutaneous eruption or deep-seated cancer. And since all that he does must be precisely according to his judgment of the case, error here must be equally fatal.
Next to comprehension of the case is vigor in conduct, which is more needful in proportion as the case becomes desperate. This must be not only in the field, but also in council,—not only against the serried front of the enemy, but against those more fatal influences that come from lack of comprehension or lack of courage. The same vigor we require in our generals must be required also in our statesmen,—the same spirit must animate both. No folding of the hands, no putting off till to-morrow what can be done to-day, no hesitation, no timidity, but action, action, action, straightforward, manly, devoted action. It is easy to see that this is required in the field; but it is no less required in every sphere of the Government, from President to paymaster.
In war there are some who content themselves with triumphs of prudence instead of triumphs of courage, and spend much time in trying how not to be beaten, instead of how to beat. They are content to forego victory, if they can escape defeat, forgetting that Fabius was only a defender and not a conqueror, that a policy fit at one time may be unfit at another, that a war waged in an enemy’s country cannot be defensive, nor can it prevail by any procrastination. People at home, on their own soil, can afford to wait. Every month, every week, every day is an ally. But we cannot wait. No moment must be spared. Not in this way battled those ancient commanders called “The Two Thunderbolts of War.” Not in this way did Napoleon defeat the Austrian forces at Marengo, and shatter the Prussian power on the field of Jena.
But there are “thunderbolts” of the cabinet as well as of the field. The elder Pitt, who was only a civilian, infused his own conquering soul into the British arms, making them irresistible; and the French Carnot, while a member of the Committee of Public Safety, was said to have organized victory. Such is the statesmanship now needed for us. And there must be generals who will carry forward all that the most courageous statesmanship directs.
Armies and men we have of rarest quality. Better never entered a field or kept step to drum-beat. Intelligent and patriotic, they have left pleasant homes, to offer themselves, if need be, for their country. They are no common hirelings, mere food for powder, but generous citizens, who have determined that their country shall be saved. Away in camp, or battle, or hospital, let them not be forgotten. But, better than gratitude even, we owe them the protection which comes from good generals and courageous counsels. O God! let them not be led to useless slaughter like sheep, nor be compelled to take the hazard of death from climate and exposure, as well as from ball and bayonet, without giving them at once all the allies which can be rallied to their support. In the name of humanity, and for the sake of victory, I make this appeal. But the loyal everywhere are allies. And does loyalty depend upon color? Is it skin or heart that we consult? Do you ask the color of a benefactor? As I listen to people higgling on the question how to treat Africans coming to our rescue, I am reminded of that famous incident, where the Emperor of Austria, driven back by the Turks, three hundred thousand strong, and besieged in Vienna until at the point of surrender, was suddenly saved by the gallant Sobieski of Poland. The Emperor, big with imperial pride, thought chiefly of his own supereminent rank,—as a Proslavery Democrat thinks of his,—and hesitated how to receive his Polish benefactor, who was only an elected king, when the Austrian commander said: “Sire, receive him as the saviour of your empire.” The Emperor gave to his saviour hardly more than a cold salute; and we are told to imitate this stolid ingratitude.