A queer backbone.
Among the remarkable habits that distinguish that wonderful genius, the editor of the New York
Herald, is that of crying out whenever any event of more than ordinary interest occurs, the ‘"backbone of the rebellion is broken!"’ No matter in what part of the world the incident in question may occur, no matter whether it have the slightest connection with the events of this continent or not, no matter matter whether it relate to a skirmish in
New Mexico, or a pitched battle in
Virginia, there stands
Bennett, as impartial as the grave, ready to annex to all, the same equal importance.--‘"The backbone of the rebellion is broken!"’"--As everything is the enemy of the hare — the hawks and vultures in the air, not less than the beasts and serpents of the earth — so everything that occurs in nature, or by the agency of man, has a tendency to break this unfortunate backbone.
If
the Emperor of
Russia speak with tolerable courtesy to
Cassius M. Clay, if the Emperor Napoleon bow to the
Yankee ambassador at a levee, if
Lord John Russell recognize the existence of
Charles Francis Adams at a drawing room, if the
Queen of
Spain dismiss her Ministers and reconstruct her Cabinet, if
Pope Plus the Ninth hold a conference with the
Austrian Envoy, or
Garibaldi be shot in the leg by the soldiers of
Victor Emmanuel, we are instantly told that ‘"the backbone of the rebellion is broken." ’ No matter what may happen, this unlucky backbone cannot escape its fate.
It is bound to be broken every morning, in the columns of the
Herald, let the events of the preceding day have been what they may. Good or evil fortune, victory or defeat, make no change in the diurnal fatality by which it is haunted.
‘"The backbone of the rebellion is broken."’ No triumph of its arms, no success in a pitched field, no capture of whole armies by its troops, can preserve this important part of the rebellion's body from a mortal fracture once in twenty-four hours. Whether it be
Manassas or
Hilton Head,
Fort Donelson or
Richmond,
Nashville or
Harper's Ferry, the result is still the same--‘"The backbone of the rebellion is broken!"’ Nothing can enable the rebellion to escape that horrible sentence.
There is scarcely a man in the whole Yankee army, from
Halleck at
Washington down to the lowest corporal in the most remote part of the
Confederacy, who has not, in his time, had the pleasure of breaking this extraordinary backbone.
But the man who, according to the
Herald, has performed that feat the oftenest and with the most entire success, is its ‘ "skedaddling"’ hero,
McClellan.
This mighty man of war cannot put down his illustrious foot without shattering the backbone in question.
When he landed at
Old Point Comfort, with 158,000 men at his back, ‘"the backbone of the rebellion is broken," ’ shouted the enraptured
Bennett.
When he appeared before
McGruder's lines, defended by 11,000 men, at the head of his prodigious host, and instead of carrying them by assault, commenced throwing up dirt to screen him from attack, ‘"the backbone of the rebellion is broken"’ again for the hundredth time, cried the enthusiastic chronicler of
McClellan's achievements.
When
General Johnston evacuated
York, without the loss of a man, totally foiling and deceiving the little
Napoleon, again the
Herald proclaimed, ‘ "the backbone of the rebellion is broken."’ When, in his attempt upon our rear guard at Williamburg, he was shamefully repulsed, ‘"the backbone of the rebellion is broken,"’ exclaimed our veracious chronicler.--When he was defeated with the loss of 15,000 men and fifteen cannon at
Seven Pines, we again beard the about of triumph, ‘ "the backbone of the rebellion is broken."’ At
Mechanicville, at
Gaines's Mill, at Cold Harbor, at Savage Station, at
Malvern Hill, at
Berkley, the same cry rose above the roar of artillery, the shrieks of the wounded, the groans of the dying, and the indescribable noise and confusion of a whole Yankee army routed and flying for life.
It ceased not with the chase, defeat, and almost entire destruction of
Pope's army; but it was not so confident or so loud, until the ‘"small
Napoleon"’ again got in the saddle, when
Bennett, too, a second time, mounted his high horse.
Gen. Lee, by a series of manœuvres the most brilliant since the Napoleonic period, completely deceived
McClellan, while he invested and captured
Harper's Ferry, defended by an army of 11,000 men, all of whom remained prisoners in our kinds.
‘"The backbone of the rebellion is broken,"’ roared out
Bennett.
McClellan is utterly unable to relieve his friends, and fails to drive a single corps of our army from its position until the capture is certain.
‘"The backbone of the rebellion is broken,"’ we hear once more from the same indefatigable lungs.
McClellan, in force, attacks
Lee at
Sharpsburg, and, as usual, is badly beaten.
As usual, we hear the same cry; but now the phrase is somewhat varied.
The ‘ "backbone of the rebellion,"’ we are told, ‘"is now
certainly broken."’ Of course, it was
uncertainly broken before.
Of course it will be broken once more by
Gen. Jackson's last exploit, or at least we shall be told so by the
Herald. Is not this a queer backbone?
We recommend it to the careful study of all political anatomists.
It resembles nothing in nature but the jointed or coach-whip snake, whose backbone divides it into several pieces when struck, and reunites with the rapidity of thought.
It is not like that of a man, who is decrepit when he receives such an injury; nor like that of a horse, which is knocked on the head when his back is once broken; nor like an ox, nor an ass, nor anything on the earth, or in the sea, or in the waters under the earth.
Having broken the backbone of the rebellion for the thousandth time,
Bennett proceeds, for the thousandth time, to give
President Lincoln his advice, as we might suppose
Nesselrode to have advised the Emperor Nicholas with regard to the Polish rebellion.
It is quite an imperial programme.
The skin of the fox is sold while it is yet upon the body of the animal with as much
nonchalance as though he were lying dead at the feet of the huntsman,
McClellan, it seems, is to ‘"bag"’
Lee and all his army.
Halleck is to send 15,000 men to
Richmond, and they are to walk in. The obstructions at
Drury's Blaff are to be removed, and a single Yankee gunboat is to keep the city.
Virginia is thus to be ‘ "liberated,"’ and then
North Carolina is to be brought under the benign rule of
Old Abe Lincoln.
All this is intended for
Europe, the last packet having sailed last Thursday.
But
Europe does not believe a word the
Yankees say. The London
Times will sift the whole matter to the bottom in the twinkling of an eye. It will see that the lies of
McClellan are intended as a foil to the tremendous blow which was dealt at
Harper's Ferry, and it will estimate the ravings of the
Herald at their true value.
There is one bint, however, to which we beg to call the attention of Congress and the
President.
It is that about the invasion of this city from
Washington.
We believe we are thoroughly prepared to meet it. We are by no means certain that, under certain circumstances, not implying any defeat of our army, it may not be attempted.
The
Herald has always foreshadowed the movements of Yankees expeditions and it may have done so to this camp.
