Hamlet on the Prairie

Cub, a Tragedy in Three Acts 

In crossing the Platte this morning, the grizzly bear cub came on the scene in his final act.

It will be remembered by the patient and attentive future reader of this dry and methodical narrative, that its first appearance on any stage, was in "high" tragedy—that the first act embraced an unusual amount of sanguinary incident—that an innocent brother, (or sister,) being ruthlessly slain, and the baffled lady-mother left (unceremoniously) full of towering and demonstrative rage,— the imprisoned hero himself sank overwhelmed,—or in a well-acted counterfeit of death, (and was borne off, remember, on a "real" horse). That in the next act, (and three acts shall do for the tragedy of my bear,—originally they had but one,—but that was at the sacrifice of a goat,) he came to life in a manner that might very well have been criticized as an overdone piece of stage-effect,—but that in fact, the spectators were much moved, and gave full credit to the dangerous passion of his howl.

To-day, then,—for I scorn anachronism— was performed the final act. The stage (wagon) was on "real water." Enraged at his wrongs, his losses, and his galling chain, the "robustious beast" acted in a ridiculous and unbearable manner; aye, ''tore his passion to tatters, to very rags,"—splinters; the stage (wagon) could not hold him: and finally in despair, he "imitated humanity so abominably," as to throw himself headlong, and so drown—or hang himself: (the author cannot decide which—even after a post mortem examination;—and so leaves the decision of this important point to the commentators).

My tragedy is all true,—and if not quite serious, has, as is proper, its moral;—but rather, as I have alluded to the primitive tragedy, let that "future reader" here imagine the entry of Chorus, and their song to Freedom! That dumb beasts prefer death to slavery! Liberty lost, they can die without the excitement of the world's applause, or hopes of a grateful posterity! (It is not possible, I think, that the cub could have known that I would immortalize him.)

Scenes Beyond the Western Border, Southern Literary Messenger 19 (March 1853): 159
and Scenes and Adventures in the Army (1857), 390

Along with borrowed words from Herman Melville's Pierre, and borrowed words from the negative review of  Pierre in the New York Herald, and borrowed words from the negative review of Pierre in the New York Literary World, the mock tragedy of the grizzly bear cub explicitly quotes the advice of Hamlet to the players in Act 3, Scene 2 of Shakespeare's Hamlet. 

Breaking all the usual aesthetic rules, even Hamlet's, the uncontrollable cub remains defiant to the end.

ACT III SCENE II	A hall in the castle.
[Enter HAMLET and Players]
HAMLET	Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to
	you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it,
	as many of your players do, I had as lief the
	town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air
	too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently;	5
	for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say,
	the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget
	a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it
	offends me to the soul to hear a robustious
	periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to	10
	very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who
	for the most part are capable of nothing but
	inexplicable dumbshows and noise: I would have such
	a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it
	out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it.	15
First Player	I warrant your honour.
HAMLET	Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion
	be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the
	word to the action; with this special observance o'erstep not
	the modesty of nature: for any thing so overdone is	20
	from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the
	first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the
	mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature,
	scorn her own image, and the very age and body of
	the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone,	25
	or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful
	laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the
	censure of the which one must in your allowance
	o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be
	players that I have seen play, and heard others	30
	praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely,
	that, neither having the accent of Christians nor
	the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so
	strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of
	nature's journeymen had made men and not made them	35
	well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
First Player	I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us,
	sir.
HAMLET	O, reform it altogether. And let those that play
	your clowns speak no more than is set down for them;	40
	for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to
	set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh
	too; though, in the mean time, some necessary
	question of the play be then to be considered:
	that's villanous, and shows a most pitiful ambition	45
	in the fool that uses it. Go, make you ready.
[Exeunt Players]

--HAMLET, ACT III SCENE II 

Poetry and reality, Byron and buffalo

 

Philip St George Cooke's plain speaking on Our Army and Navy offers among other things a way of understanding his alleged romanticism. Alongside the eminently pragmatic character revealed in Cooke's actual army diaries and letters, his reputed romantic streak seems illusory, a fiction perhaps attributable to the exaggerated romanticism of the material in one book, Scenes and Adventures in the Army (subtitled Romance of Military Life). As Bernard De Voto rightly noted, the "literary pathos" of Scenes and Adventures is "hard to associate with as hard-bitten an officer as the army had."

Speaking in April 1886 before the Michigan Commandery of the Loyal Legion, General Cooke quoted from the famous fourth canto of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Yes, the General's comments show how familiar he is with Byron's poetry, but they also reveal how impervious he remains to its romantic claims:

But almost incredible results of human genius and mechanical resource have been reached; monster ships, with steel sheathing twenty-two inches thick, of 12,000 tons displacement; some guns weigh a hundred tons, carrying steel-pointed thunder-bolts of about a ton in weight, five or ten miles!

This sounds more like poetry than reality, and Byron must have had the spirit of prophesy when he wrote of "the oak leviathans" of his day, with armament of what now would be called pop-guns:

"The armaments which thunder strike the walls
Of rock-built cities, bidding Nations quake
And Monarchs tremble in their capitals."

But nothing makes us quake and tremble; we soon managed, in 1862, to destroy the most formidable iron-clad that had ever been met in battle.  
--Our Army and Navy

Guns and steel. Now that's poetry! By "poetry" General Cooke means a kind of pleasing fantasy. Translation: with modern advances in military technology, warships and armaments have become so marvelously massive as to make them seem "almost incredible." Unbelievable, like poetry.

Poetry is the opposite of reality. Poetry = Fiction.

The virtue of Byron's verse for Cooke lies in its usefulness as a prophecy of modern engineering miracles. And the real point of the quotation from Childe Harold is to debunk Byron, to point out with satisfaction the triumphs of ever-improving technology. Nowadays, and quite the contrary to what Byron claimed, "nothing makes us quake and tremble."

In this same speech, steam and railroads receive due credit for promoting civilization.

Let me say here that the combined discoveries, steam and railways, I think far the greatest achieved by man; arming civilization with a thousand-fold of its old powers in the rapid extension of all manner of benefits, comforts and happiness. It alone made possible, and easy, our ocean boundaries. --Our Army and Navy

Fair enough, but goodness! how far is this optimistic spirit of General Cooke's paean to steam from the heartfelt tribute to Byron in "Scenes Beyond the Western Border":

Strange, indeed, that of ten young officers, not one brought a Don Juan into the wilderness. Is it possible that already the torrent of steam literature has cast Byron into the drift?  How many verses of the sublime, of the beautiful,— of love, of hate, of joy and grief, of pathos and most comic bathos, does that name bring crowding on my memory. 

--Southern Literary Messenger 17 (September 1851): 569; and  

Scenes and Adventures in the Army, 251.

General Cooke's scientific bent was always in evidence. His delight over the latest advances in weapons technology must not be regarded merely as a late indulgence or whim of retirement. To comprehend the 1886 reference to Byron it helps to recall his experiment of hunting buffalo with a mountain howitzer on the Santa Fe Trail, back in 1843. Cooke was proud of his written description of the event in his army journal. Hoping for a wider audience, General Cooke quoted his lively account of the episode in a letter to the editor of the Army and Navy Journal, published in the April 8, 1882 issue as "An American 'Bull Fight.'"

Evidently he regretted or forgot the humorous summary of the scene in the September 1851 installment of "Scenes Beyond the Western Border," presented in the form of a prairie dialogue between the narrator and I. F. his Imaginary Friend. Later this installment was duly incorporated with the rest of Scenes Beyond the Western Border into Part II of his book, Scenes and Adventures in the Army.

Below, the Letter to the Editor by Philip St George Cooke, as published in the United States Army and Navy Journal (April 8, 1882): 819.

AN AMERICAN “BULL FIGHT."

To the Editor of the Army and Navy Journal: 

Sir: I have been delving into the MS. of an old official journal and have found verbal daguerrotypes of some scenes which your readers may find racy, despite their age. Of course they might receive more polished expression, but it would be almost a pity to alter a hue of a picture freshly drawn from nature.

We all have read, ad nauseum, of Spanish bull fights, when the poor beast is cornered and nearly every thing prearranged, but here you find a tolerably fair fight between a valiant buffalo and some two hundred “horse, foot, and"—artillery. Place, Upper Arkansas; time, June, 1843. 

“For six miles we marched through one village of 'prairie dogs,' whose shrill barking was incessantly sounding in our ears ; but their strange antics scarcely attracted attention when thousands of buffalo, dotting the visible world far and near, were the whole day seen around us; each moment shifting views of chases by officers or traders, fixing the attention with a new interest. In the afternoon from the brow of a small hill we suddenly came in view of hundreds of the huge savage looking animals, grazing and lying about in the most natural manner, only three hundred paces from us. I instantly determined to give the artillerists some desired practice, and to get some experience of the range and effects of the mountain howitzer shells. I directed one myself at a group; the shell passed over it, but in ricochet upset one animal. Another was discharged which passed in their midst in three or four rebounds, and then exploded, creating a wonderful confusion. Still another was directed at a dense group, full five hundred paces off, and on higher ground; it struck rather beyond, exploding beautifully at the same instant, but none were prostrated. I then marched on (rather disgusted in truth with mountain howitzers). In a few minutes, as we approached the bull which had been struck, he raised himself up on his chest; the command was halted. Being mounted on a very wild horse I dismounted and approached him afoot to twenty-five paces, aimed and snapped my carbine. Then the bull rose and rushed at me. After passing the spot I had stood on, his attention was diverted to a horseman and his pistol shot; a moment after, as he was charging past me, I fired and struck him in his side; again he turned and pursued me until his course was changed to a new enemy. The bull seemed set to break through the column; and the baggage train mules, which had come close up, were turning short and trying to run. He was assailed now by many horsemen with a free discharge of pistol shots from riders of prancing horses; it was like a confused and doubtful melee. 

“After falling with a great shock, the bull rose and charged a mounted corporal, tossed his horse like a plaything, goring him in two places; the corporal fell headlong, his pistol at the same instant going off, and the ball passing through his horse‘s neck, which then ran off; but the corporal was caught on a horn, only by his clothes, fortunately, and was thus borne by the bull for several leaps; but a new actor appeared, a bulldog: and he caught the buffalo by his under lip, and then all fell in a confused heap. Next from out the cloud of dust the corporal was seen, desperately scrambling on hands and knees. The deathless animal again rose, and shock at us his shaggy front in defiance. Then many deliberate carbine shots were fired into him, and he fell and rose repeatedly; some were fired close by while he lay, but seemed to have no effect. Finally, I sent a ball through an eye to his brain. The shell had broken a shoulder blade. 

“ The poor bull died, and has been eaten—in defiance of nightmare!” 

P. St. G. Cooke, U. S. A.  --1882 Army and Navy Journal

For Cooke's 1843 journal in manuscript, see National Archives Letters Received by the Office of the Adjutant General 1822-1860 / 1843 / C / Cooke, P St G / C252;  available online via fold3.

Related post:

• Philip St George Cooke on Our Army and Navy
  https://dragooned.blogspot.com/2014/12/philip-st-george-cooke-on-our-army-and.html

Philip St. George Cooke on "Tactics"

From The United States Army and Navy Journal, September 15, 1883:

(For the Army and Navy Journal.)

TACTICS.

THIS subject should now be in order; it has suffered great neglect for some nine years past. I would suggest some ideas for the consideration of the profession. 

Our tactics received about their first moulding from our good friend and general officer, the Prussian Baron Steuben; and they have since been derived, in the main, from Prussia through England and France; the original excessive formalism, combined with despotic discipline—both inherited by Frederic the Great—was so illustrated by his genius and successes, that the form, perhaps mistaken for their spirit, was adopted by neighboring nations. But with great improvements in Europe, especially of late, we have not kept pace. 

An imperfect, but great advance in cavalry tactics, was attempted just as our civil war began; had Executive approval been given a year earlier—when the work was completed—it might have gained fair trial, and favor enough to have carried it on to uninterrupted success. In the systems now prescribed some of its ideas have been incorporated, but clumsily; and, as if in return, the cavalry has received some of the worst infantry features; the results are similar but somewhat confused jumbles of good and bad, old and new; of intricacy foreboding miscarriage in presence of a civilized enemy. 

It is a mere truism to say that improved firearms—machine guns—have greatly modified the old conditions of war: [do they not threaten to make it too destructive for human resort?] 

The slow precision and complicated evolutions of infantry must vanish as before a flame of fire; their formation in two ranks will probably follow their discarded squares, which, with loss of fire partook too much of the defenceless nature of a crowd. [Next to the opportunity offered by the flank of a line, it is masses or heavy columns which give the best possibilities to cavalry.] 

Field artillery, whose best range is now less than that of arms of precision, has suffered perhaps more than cavalry by the great changes. 

Gunpowder, thought to be a death blow to cavalry, relieved it of its armor, and gave it increase of activity, and momentum too. It may be said that in some of its very important, indeed essential, services, cavalry alone remains but little affected by the extraordinary inventions in firearms. The reader shall judge; I specify the following duties, viz: 

1. Scouts and reconnoissances for discovery in campaign of the movements and strength of the enemy‘s army or columns. 

2. Opening communications—interrupting those of the enemy. 

3. Destruction of, and cutting off the enemy's resources, and lines of supply. 

4. Surprises of distant intrenched positions, depots, etc.

5. Prompt occupancy of strategic positions and points; as heights, bridges, fords; important to operations decided upon; Or to thwart the enemy. 

6. The guard of the army, day and night, at rest or moving, from surprises, clearing the way of marching columns. 

These detached services are dependent chiefly upon rapidity of motion. In the late war our cavalry very successfully performed the infantry service of defending and attacking intrenchments dismounted; and the last even sometimes mounted. 

In battles of importance, after hours of carnage, when ammunition may fail, when a great mistake may be committed, when confusion may occur, [when, perhaps, both sides may “ feel whipped ”],—in short when the balance of victory is nicely poised, then the sabre should be cast into the scale! Almost any of these conditions neutralize the ascendancy of machine arms and restore the cavalry its great powers; there should always be a reserve of cavalry to strike then!—only a portion of the enemy’s army in such a state being routed, the rest will seldom stand fast—unless held by a hero: as at Chickamauga. 

If the enemy be routed, then woe to the conquered! the cavalry becomes of supreme importance. Drawn battles decide nothing, and victory is claimed by both sides; but the energetic, thorough pursuit of a routed, sometimes of a merely retreating army, shall give the great results—the peacemaking fruits of victory. 

What a different story would have been told of Lee‘s retreat from Petersburg, but for our cavalry. He would have made a junction with Johnston, and probably would have established a new base. But our cavalry, directed by a general of genius and full of energy, seconded by skilful and brave commanders, soon brought the enemy to bay, and closed the war, too, with some brilliant charges. 

But, on the other hand, a retreat covered by superior cavalry can be made with small loss. 

But to return to tactics. Tactics for infantry should be simplified—reduced in volume, with fewer and less formal deployments, with no injurious puzzles, dependent upon “ right or left in front." Nothing can be more important than precision of fire, but that, of late, has received great attention. In connection with it, exercises in open order should be developed as the great feature of future battles. Their first lines will consist of skirmishers, with equal strength in reserve and as supports; these, together, will be about half as numerous as the second line, in single rank. 

After all, infantry must give substantial form and coherence to armies; it is often thrown on the simple and dogged defensive—never the case with cavalry. 

So cavalry tactics must be in nearly all respects different; its movements both in detail and in the large are the movements of horses; its duties are disconnected and essentially different; its powers bear no resemblance, little comparison to those of other arms; and it has peculiar weaknesses. The character and worth of cavalry are dependent upon mobility in all its widest sense. Its deployments, few and simple, should be without halt, unless ordered—the first formations ready to strike; and if such its need, the later ones in that admirable formation of echelons. The officers, who are always in front, should be its guides; making an end to the martinet system of markers and guides, “general " and “ particular,” right and left, and their mathematical lines. No confused noise of unnecessary, repeated commands—some of which the very horses anticipate—drowning often those of real importance. 

What room or reason is there for precision of movements and of lines in cavalry ? If there were time, the nature of horses renders them as impossible as useless. 

With short enlistments, and much more with instruction at the beginning of a war, time fails for much nicety and formality in riding; security of seat, “rough riding," will much better pay.
P. S. G. C.

--Army and Navy Journal - Saturday, September 15, 1883

For another sample of General Cooke in retirement, check out this published extract from his 1886 talk before the Michigan Commandery of the Loyal Legion: Our Army and Navy.

wonder and admiration

"To be frank (though, perhaps, rather foolish), notwithstanding what I wrote yesterday of these Mosses, I had not then culled them all; but had, nevertheless, been sufficiently sensible of the subtle essence, in them, as to write as I did. To what infinite height of loving wonder and admiration I may yet be borne, when by repeatedly banqueting on these Mosses, I shall have thoroughly incorporated their whole stuff into my being,—that, I can not tell. But already I feel that this Hawthorne has dropped germinous seeds into my soul. He expands and deepens down, the more I contemplate him; and further, and further, shoots his strong New-England roots into the hot soil of my Southern soul."

--Herman Melville on "Hawthorne and His Mosses" in the NY Literary World, August 24, 1850. 

 

My Friend [named "Frank" in the original magazine series] and I rode together, and had much wonder and admiration to express upon our night adventure,—our happy fortune to witness so much beauty and sublimity. I remembered then, his omission of "the light of a dark eye in woman," in the only quotation of poetry I had ever heard him make. He said it was introduced with beautiful expression, but all the poet's audacity, to illustrate an Alpine storm. 

--Scenes and Adventures in the Army; "wonder and admiration" added with other revisions to the May 1853 installment of Scenes Beyond the Western Border in the Southern Literary Messenger.

Regarding the prairie dialogue on eye-color and Byronic mountain storms, see also previous Dragooned posts on blue eyes or dark? and a poet's audacity.

Things "we read of"

Noah's Ark and Hell. Notice how both are described using a superlative adjective (first/driest), though neither is explicitly named.

"The first boat we read of, floated on an ocean, that with Portuguese vengeance had whelmed a whole world without leaving so much as a widow."   --Moby-Dick (1851)

The Furtmeyr Bible / Image Credit: World Digital Library

Sept. 11.—If "time waits for no man," Heaven knows what this chronic rain stays for. We wait on it; but if anathema or any kind of curses, sacred or profane, could avail, it had inevitably gone to—the driest place we read of.

--Scenes Beyond the Western Border, September 1851; and
Scenes and Adventures in the Army 

Hell
c. 1180, Herrad of Landsberg via Wikimedia Commons

Philip St. George Cooke on "Our Army and Navy"

 

In April 1886, Detroit resident Philip St. George Cooke gave a talk before the Michigan Loyal Legion. General Cooke's remarks on Our Army and Navy, casually expressed yet thoughtful and intensely earnest, were excerpted in the Journal of the Military Service Institution 8 (December 1887): 426-30. Oklahoma for General Cooke still is or should be "a large reservation for Indians," hence his endorsement of military force to end illegal boomer intrusions. The speech includes interesting parallels (and contrasts) to "Scenes Beyond the Western Border" (1851-3) and Scenes and Adventures in the Army (1857), including fascinating citations of Byron and Bulwer. For more on Cooke's literary references, check out the related Dragooned post on poetry and reality, Byron and buffalo. The "parenthesis" on the impact of technological advances in weaponry refers back to Cooke's 1883 article on Tactics in the Army and Navy Journal.

OUR ARMY AND NAVY *

By GEN. PHILIP ST. GEORGE COOKE, A. M., U. S. A.

THUS viewed, my subject is an old—rather hackneyed one: and I proposed to myself to give a study or two, as artists say, of the Army and Navy, of their present and prospective means and methods of work.

The thought that the marvelous inventions and discoveries in fire-arms, machine-guns, explosives, even at their present stage, may soon put an end to important wars, is forcing itself on us. I gave it a parenthesis, in the Army and Navy Journal, near two years ago. "Do they not threaten to make War too destructive for human resort?" 

But the end is not yet! The relations of great European Powers are now very "strained," and some of them seem to have become suddenly possessed of the old Berserker spirit, and have been making encroachments, and seizures of territory the world round —''colonizing." And specially are there notes of War between our "mother" country, "Empire" now, and our constant friend, that other young, great and growing Power, that doth bestride the other hemisphere "like a colossus." These machine-guns and explosives have, as yet, been scarcely tried; but I fancy their time will be soon. 

But the invention of gunpowder gave rise to similar thoughts, and strange to say, though great changes did follow, they were in an opposite sense to those foreboded. The older world used to fight very much on horseback—which was very gentlemanly in them—but somehow they considered armor an essential of Cavalry, and it had to be thrown aside, as expected; but the change instead of injuring, added much, as I could show, to its range of action and its value. And in general, instead of becoming more destructive to life, War became very much less so; which is easily explained: In old times the principal fighting was necessarily hand to hand; and we read that, with great loss doubtless to victors the losing side were generally nearly all slaughtered—very few, I fancy, were only wounded. But, very naturally, fighting at considerable distances promptly followed the general introduction of fire-arms. And incidental, perhaps conducive to the change was a greater scope for strategy.

I recall but one other important cause of change in the conduct of War, viz.: Railroads. These have greatly enlarged the scope of action, and have quite aggrandized strategy: but in fact the telegraph fits so closely with the railroad that its immense influence I have failed to mention separately.

These modern discoveries and ameliorations have very great tendency to enlarge the dominion of mind over matter. 

Our word strategist is a derivative of words in the languages of the two ancient civilizations of Europe—the great conquering Powers—signifying in them simply leaders—army commanders. Many of us were educated to very exalted ideas of the generals of their armies—especially of those immortals, Ceasar [sic] and Alexander; so very high that we hesitate to name their peer in all the tide of twenty centuries. But now should not the military portion of their fame be re-considered in comparison to modern military genius, developed by the application of great strategic agents? And the great warriors named, were heads of the foremost nations, and commanded the best disciplined armies, of their different periods, and famously brave; and they conquered inferior, uncivilized nations; perhaps, very similarly to the British conquest of India.

 Should then, their great victories and conquests, the results chiefly of hand-to-hand battles and brutal slaughters, give them rank above, or even equal to modern commanders who have conquered great armies (which, with their generals, had equal advantages) by virtue of superior strategy? both sides depending on the results of brain power, rather then of brute force.

Let me say here that the combined discoveries, steam and railways, I think far the greatest achieved by man; arming civilization with a thousand-fold of its old powers in the rapid extension of all manner of benefits, comforts and happiness. It alone made possible, and easy, our ocean boundaries. 

I mentioned dynamite and other explosives as admitted subsidiaries of War. They are terrible and inscrutable discoveries, and seem to threaten more in Peace than War; they arm the criminal class with fearful power. 

One is reminded of the posthumous work of Lord Lytton, called "The Coming Race," its prophetic explosive, which he calls bril [vril]; used in a slight tube, an army could be destroyed by a child; War ceased, of course; and another deduction of the author is interesting, viz.: that fear of death ceased to be felt. But I fancy we shall get on rather comfortably. In fact, I remember that the same author took great alarm and prophesied on the invention of lucifer matches—a general conflagration of haystacks.

But armies as small as ours will ever be necessary; all Government is based upon the sanction of force; and there must be a school for the science and practice of War, if only on the smallest scale. We seem to be nearly through with our miserable Indian wars; since we have exterminated the buffalo, their great resource for food, the Indians must perish, or submit, and be fed by Government until taught to be self-supporting. But until the Millenium, Civilization will ever encounter violence, to be put down by the strong arm. Witness the present insurrection to invade and possess Oklahoma, a large reservation for Indians, in defiance of law; the President's proclamation, and a regiment of cavalry. 

If we have had no revolution in the Art of War by land, since that caused by the gradual introductions of small fire-arms, between three and four hundred years ago, it would seem that the Navy has experienced more than one in the last fifty years or so; it is about that time since the first steamer crossed the Atlantic; and in that time the Navies have undergone a succession of radical changes. The steam engine has nearly supplanted the sail; and iron has taken the place of wood in constructions. It was half a life's practice to make a good sailor; there was the watch for storms, and the nice management of sails to meet them with safety; calms paralyzed their powers.

But now they make voyages through calm or stormy seas, almost alike, in a third of the old time, and combinations long in advance can be reliably made; tactical plans of battle can be executed. And what a change is ramming! 

With all this, the ship became more vulnerable than before, in its exposure to cannon shots through boilers; and among the delicate, though so powerful machinery, occupying much space. And this caused a very serious revolution indeed, not quite ended, but I think with reaction in view; I mean sheathing ships with steel plates. 

We all know that in England, and on the Continent, there has been going on for years a sort of material duel between evolved powers of Nature and material resistance. First they armored their ships; then, on trials, they found that enlarged and improved ordnance could pierce or destroy target armor of equal resistance. The next ships were built much more, thickly armored; but only to find after a while, that they had no sufficient defense against still larger, enormous guns. Thus they have gone on, at an immense outlay for armor, ships, cannon and targets, which nothing but very great resources and the jealous rivalry of some of the leading Powers could have enabled and induced them to endure. But almost incredible results of human genius and mechanical resource have been reached; monster ships, with steel sheathing twenty-two inches thick, of 12,000 tons displacement; some guns weigh a hundred tons, carrying steel-pointed thunder-bolts of about a ton in weight, five or ten miles!

This sounds more like poetry than reality, and Byron must have had the spirit of prophesy when he wrote of "the oak leviathans" of his day, with armament of what now would be called pop-guns:

"The armaments which thunder strike the walls
Of rock-built cities, bidding Nations quake
And Monarchs tremble in their capitals."

But nothing makes us quake and tremble; we soon managed, in 1862, to destroy the most formidable iron-clad that had ever been met in battle. 

In National exigences our ingenuity and energy are phenominal [sic]; and we have now in reserve, I believe, Ericsson's sub-marine torpedo-guns; we are experimenting hopefully upon a dynamite cannon likely to neutralize all armor defense! Even now we can destroy through their bottoms the Achilles heel of those monster "Dreadnaughts," if they come. 

Don't forget our wet ditch three thousand miles wide! It may help our estimate of this defense to reflect on the great protection England has ever found in her twenty-mile strait, the "Channel." Napoleon gave it very much thought indeed! 

After all, the European Powers may find their iron-clad elephants on their hands. None has yet ventured such a voyage as crossing the Atlantic. Their great guns seem very liable to bursting; the unwieldy ships seem very unmanageable. They run against and sink each other in harbor, or summer exercises. They draw too much water to reach any important capital, and they would attack nothing less than a great city. Then we would meet them with torpedo vessels, with sunken torpedoes, flanked by existing fortifications or floating batteries; with earth water-batteries, armed perhaps with dynamite guns. 

Have we not been wise in not following the Great Powers very closely in their so expensive experiments? with their succession of failures. Congress, perhaps, has "builded wiser than they knew" in not building, yet, great iron-clads. I think the
near future will see the Nations building, instead, unarmored ships of draft to allow their passage of river-mouths, and the inlets of sounds; of great speed, to enable them to overtake or evade the war vessels of enemies; and to facilitate the destruction of their commerce. Congress will continue very slow to vote the millions for ships sheathed in armor. 

The co-operation of the Army and Navy in the War seemed perfect; in fact, very extraordinary in view of the strange fields of action which the Navy found; fields indeed, to be taken literally! Fancy a fleet among the savannas of Red River far above Alexandria, Louisiana! And they owed their escape down the rapids there, to the great engineering skill and resources of Lieutenant-Colonel Bailey of a Wisconsin regiment of Cavalry, then under my command at Baton Rouge. It was by some peculiar method of using dams. That was co-operation!

* Extract from an address to the Michigan Commandery of the Loyal Legion, in
April, 1886.

--Journal of the Military Service Institution, Vol. 8 (December 1887): 426-30.

 Related post 

• Poetry and reality, Byron and buffalo
  https://dragooned.blogspot.com/2014/12/poetry-and-reality-byron-and-buffalo.html

On dreams and verges

Image Credit: World Elections

"That a nothing should torment a nothing; for I am a nothing. It is all a dream—we dream that we dreamed we dream." 

"Pierre, when thou just hovered on the verge, thou wert a riddle to me; but now, that thou art deep down in the gulf of the soul,—now, when thou wouldst be lunatic to wise men, perhaps—now doth poor ignorant Isabel begin to comprehend thee. Thy feeling hath long been mine, Pierre. Long loneliness and anguish have opened miracles to me. Yes, it is all a dream!"  --Melville's Pierre (1852)

Did I dream? —Had I slumbered at my post?— I did dream.

And why not tell my dream?— Life is little better; nay, it is little different....

...There is a re-action of extraordinary excitement,—such as ours of yesterday—that has a power over me which renders a profound silence awful—of all else, fearful! Silence! Then, every senti[m]ent of my soul has ears, in which air spirits supernaturally whisper distracting, sonorous thoughts:—in darkness, with long unrest, it verges madness.

--Scenes Beyond the Western Border, March 1853; and republished with revisions in Scenes and Adventures in the Army.

Worldlings don't get it

 Herman Melville's annotation in Henry Taylor, Notes from Life (Boston, 1853):

"Yet the gross worldling thinks that money
settles all things—that insults have a
pecuniary tariff."  --Melville's Marginalia Online

 A Captain of U. S. Dragoons describes his ideal reader:

I address not then, the shallow or hurried worldling; but the friendly one, who in the calm intervals from worldly cares, grants me the aid of a quiet and thoughtful,—and if it may be,—a poetic mood!

Scenes Beyond the Western Border, July 1852; and
Scenes and Adventures in the Army

(The July 1852 plea for one "friendly" and "poetic" reader instead of the superficial "worldling" was selected to serve as the epigraph for the 1857 book.)

Melville's poem "Lone Founts" similarly urges rejection of the "worldling's" perspective:

LONE FOUNTS

Though fast youth's glorious fable flies,
View not the world with worldling's eyes;
Nor turn with weather of the time.
Foreclose the coming of surprise:
Stand where Posterity shall stand;
Stand where the Ancients stood before,
And, dipping in lone founts thy hand,
Drink of the never-varying lore:
Wise once, and wise thence evermore.   --Poems from Timoleon

On second thought, don't get Melville started on worldlings:

Shall hearts that beat no base retreat
   In youth's magnanimous years—
Ignoble hold it, if discreet
   When interest tames to fears;
Shall spirits that worship light
   Perfidious deem its sacred glow,
   Recant, and trudge where wordlings go,
Conform and own them right?   --The Enthusiast

Seraphs fanning air

Deep interest in air spirits is common to Melville and Philip St George Cooke or his ghostwriter.

A previous post cited textual evidence from Mardi and commentary by Bret Zimmerman. But somehow we neglected a great example, one sentence that closely parallels one sentence in the January 1852 installment of "Scenes Beyond the Western Border."

"Even now, we may be inhaling the ether, which we fancy seraphic wings are fanning." 

--From Melville's Mardi (1849)

via Architectural Review

"The air, methinks, is fanned by seraphic spirits on their winged errands of Peace!" 

-- January 1852 Scenes Beyond the Western Border; and  

Scenes and Adventures in the Army.

Not a whit

First installment, Scenes Beyond the Western Border
Southern Literary Messenger 17 (June 1851): 372

Man lording it over man, man kneeling to man, is a spectacle that Gabriel might well travel hitherward to behold; for never did he behold it in heaven. But Darius giving laws to the Medes and the Persians, or the conqueror of Bactria with king-cattle yoked to his car, was not a whit more sublime, than Beau Brummel magnificently ringing for his valet.  --Mardi (1849)

"...and in asking these questions I was particular to address him in a civil and condescending way, so as to show him very plainly that I did not deem myself one whit better than he was, that is, taking all things together, and not going into particulars."  --Redburn (1849)

Luckily, my Bury blade had no acquaintance in Liverpool, where, indeed, he was as much in a foreign land, as if he were already on the shores of Lake Erie; so that he strolled about with me in perfect abandonment; reckless of the cut of my shooting-jacket; and not caring one whit who might stare at so singular a couple.  --Redburn

Poor, poor Wellingborough! thought I, miserable boy! you are indeed friendless and forlorn. Here you wander a stranger in a strange town, and the very thought of your father’s having been here before you, but carries with it the reflection that, he then knew you not, nor cared for you one whit.  --Redburn

Life is more awful than Death; and let no man, though his live heart beat in him like a cannon—let him not hug his life to himself; for, in the predestinated necessities of things, that bounding life of his is not a whit more secure than the life of a man on his death-bed. To-day we inhale the air with expanding lungs, and life runs through us like a thousand Niles; but to-morrow we may collapse in death, and all our veins be dry as the Brook Kedron in a drought.  --White-Jacket (1850)

“Not a whit, sir—not one particle...."  --White-Jacket

But why say more? All men live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever-present perils of life. And if you be a philosopher, though seated in the whale-boat, you would not at heart feel one whit more of terror, than though seated before your evening fire with a poker, and not a harpoon, by your side.
--Moby-Dick (1851)

Now some Nantucketers rather distrust this historical story of Jonah and the whale. But then there were some sceptical Greeks and Romans, who, standing out from the orthodox pagans of their times, equally doubted the story of Hercules and the whale, and Arion and the dolphin ; and yet their doubting those traditions did not make those traditions one whit the less facts, for all that. --Moby-Dick, Jonah Historically Regarded

From these random slips, it would seem, that Pierre is quite conscious of much that is so anomalously hard and bitter in his lot, of much that is so black and terrific in his soul. Yet that knowing his fatal condition does not one whit enable him to change or better his condition. Conclusive proof that he has no power over his condition. For in tremendous extremities human souls are like drowning men; well enough they know they are in peril; well enough they know the causes of that peril;—nevertheless, the sea is the sea, and these drowning men do drown.  --Pierre (1852)

Oh reader! "gentle" or not,—I care not a whit,—so you are honest—I will tell you a secret. I write not to be read, and I swear never even to transcribe for your benefit, unless I change my mind. All I want is a good listener; I want to converse with you; and if you are absolutely dumb, why I will sometimes answer for you.

--Scenes Beyond the Western Border, Southern Literary Messenger vol. 17 (June 1851): 372; and
Scenes and Adventures in the Army, Part II.