Gentlemen of the Washington Artillery:
At the sound of the bugle you are here, within one short hour to bid adieu to cherished homes, and soon to encounter the perils of battle on a distant field.
It is fitting that here, in the heart of this great city — here, beneath the shadow of this Hall, over which floats the flag of
Louisiana's sovereignty and independence, you should receive a public and a tender farewell.
It is fitting that religion herself should with gentle voice whisper her benediction upon your flag and your cause.
Soldiers, history reads to us of wars which have been baptized as holy; but she enters upon her records none that is holier than this in which you have embarked.
It is a war of defence against wicked and cruel aggression — a war of civilization against a ruthless barbarism which would dishonor the dark ages — a war of religion against a blind and bloody fanaticism.
It is a war for your homes and firesides — for your wives and children — for the land which the
Lord has given us for a heritage.
It is a war for the maintenance of the broadest principle for which a free people can contend — the right of self-government.
Eighty-five years ago our fathers fought in defence of the chartered right of Englishmen, that taxation and representation are correlative.
We, their sons, contend to-day for the great American principle that all just government derives its powers from the will of the governed.
It is the corner-stone of the great temple which, on this continent, has been reared to civil freedom; and its denial leads, as the events of the past two months have clearly shown, to despotism, the most absolute and intolerable, a despotism more grinding than that of the Turk or
Russian, because it is the despotism of the mob, unregulated by principle or precedent, drifting at the will of an unscrupulous and irresponsible majority.
The alternative which the
North has laid before her people is the subjugation of the
South, or what they are pleased to call absolute anarchy.
The alternative before us is the independence of the
South or a despotism which will put its iron heel upon all that the human heart can hold dear.
This mighty issue is to be submitted to the ordeal of battle, with the nations of the earth as spectators, and with the God of Heaven as umpire.
The theatre appointed for the struggle is the soil of
Virginia, beneath the shadow of her own Alleghanies.
Comprehending the import of this great controversy from the first,
Virginia sought to stand between the combatants, and pleaded for such an adjustment as both the civilization and the religion of the age demanded.
When this became hopeless, obeying the instincts of that nature which has ever made her the Mother of Statesmen and of States, she has opened her broad bosom to the blows of a tyrant's hand.
Upon such a theatre, with such an issue pending before such a tribunal, we have no doubt of the part which will be assigned you to play; and when we hear the thunders of your cannon echoing from the mountain passes of
Virginia, will understand that you mean, in the language of
Cromwell at the castle of
Drogheda, “to cut this war to the heart.”
It only remains, soldiers, to invoke the blessing of Almighty God upon your honored flag.
It waves in brave hands over the gallant defenders of a holy cause.
It will be found in the thickest of the fight, and the principles which it represents you will defend to “the last of your breath and of your blood.”
May victory perch upon its staff in the hour of battle, and peace — an honorable peace — be wrapped within its folds when you shall return.
It is little to say to you that you will be remembered.
And should the frequent fate of the soldier befall you in a soldier's death, you shall find your graves in thousands of hearts, and the pen of history shall write the story of your martyrdom.
Soldiers, farewell!
and may the
Lord of Hosts be round about you as a wall of fire, and shield your heads in the day of battle!
