round her flag, boys.
This may be all very well, but when it takes the form of extreme deference, one may well smile and draw the line.
It is partly, no doubt, a reaction after that intense feeling of aroused nationality which accompanied and followed our great Civil War, and can hardly, perhaps, be sustained in full by the next generation.
The day after Lincoln
's emancipation proclamation was issued, or after his Gettysburg
speech, or after his assassination, there was little disposition visible among us to regard that estimable sovereign, Queen Victoria, as the Queen
of the English-speaking race; nor would even the Saturday Review
have made that suggestion.
As the War
of 1812 was called by many “the Second War of the Revolution,” so might the Civil War
be almost called the “Third War,” in respect to the completeness of the feeling of independence, not to say of isolation, that it created for a time.
It is one of the incidental benefits to set against the vast evils of war that it gives this sense of self-reliance.
“When is man strong,” says Browning
in one of his finest passages, “but when he feels alone?”
It is very natural, perhaps, that after a period so exalted there should come a little reaction