The Sun.
London, England, 1863-10-26 00:00:00

Commence at 7.

T" TILT RI)
EDITION OF " THE SUN,"
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CF the L'Ateat SPORTING INTELLIGENCE,
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HIGH WATER AT LONDON BRIDGE.
ruts DA-7.—Morning, lh, 21ta.......Astenioon,
lh. 44m.
TO-JKORR°Iv•-\l°raing' 124' Sm.--Afternoon, 2b. 93m.

The Weather—Sun Office, Oct. 26,1863,-

THERMOMETER.

This day at Two o'clock ..............
Barometer-30.00. ...... 66
wind—North-Nest; moderate, and very fine.

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LONDON, MONDAY, OCf. 26, 1863.

As a strategist General LEE stands at the present
at the very head of his noble and gallant profession.
His pre-eminence in that'waY Is frankly recognised
alike by the soldiers of the old world . and of new.
His greatness as a Captain in the Field is
conspicuously visible even tortehnederei
the unprofessional
multitude, less by the number and the
splendour of
his victories, than by the fact that his lieutenants
have proved themselves so many paladins, and that
Yet all this while, even the most illustrious amongst
them, are men whose fame s but subsidiary to his
still grander and loftier reputation. Paladins, ere they
not, those lieutenants of LEE P—leaders of brigades
and of divisions such as BEAUREGARD, and Jois-
sroN, and BRAGc, and JACKSON, and last, but not
least in the glorious catalogue, General LONG
STREET, The feat but so very recently accomplished
by LON GSTREET —accomplished by him, remember,
as the one intrusted to carry out the pro-
found and daring strategic designs of the
Great Confederate Commander—stands at this
moment, as we feel tolerably certain it will long
remain hereafter, unparalleled in the annals of war.
The Greatest Soldier of modern times, perhaps of
any times, meaning, of course, NAPOLEON the Great
k of him, but he is SU so speak
—and it is not we who
lassie masterpiece by the grandest
spoken of
in
a c
military writer who ever lived, one as eloquent as
TA,errus and as enthrallingas PLUTARCH, the
Peninsular War,
the
'veteran historian of

the late General Sir WlLLiam FRANCIS
PATRICK NAPIER—the Greatest Soldier of modern
times, perhaps of any time (HANNIBAL being
the only Great Captain who is seriously
brought into comparison with him) NAPOLEON—
performed miracles in the field, particularly in his
first campaign and in his last campaign but one, in
his first Italian campaign in 1797, and in his won-
derful campaign upon the soil of France, the cam-
paign of 1814, by what was called " maltiplying his
forces" by the marvellous rapidity of his movements.
If by the late achievements of LONGSTREET still
greater wonders in that way have been accom-
plished, it is attributable, of course, to the fact
that now there is, in aid of the strategist, what
NAPOLEON had not in his time—the railway sys-
tem None the lees admirable is the daring of the
designs of LEE as a strategist, in transferring to
and fro, along a distance of four hundred miles, the
whole corps of troops under the command of LONG-
sTREET. To and fro, over a distance in all of no:
much less than a thousand miles, LONGSTREET'S corps
has been whirled like a tremendous shuttle. And,
with so perfect a concealment of the design meditated,
and with such a ready swiftness in the execution of
it, that in this moving to and fro of a whole corps of
troops, between LEE'S main array on the banks of
the Rapidan and BRAGG'S army four hundred miles
away on the southern frontier of Tennessee, it has
been like the passing hither and thither, quietly at
LEE'S bidding, of a solitary messenger. The oppo-
nent of the two Confederate armies has in each
instance been surprised. ROSENCRANZ has been
driven back, his army routed in part, the rest of it
being fairly " trapped" at Chattanooga. MEADE four
hundred miles away from Chattanooga (himself con-
fronting the main army under LEE) has scarcely
realized to his dismaythe predicament into which his
brother Federal ROSENCRANZ has been outmance•
uvred—when BRAGG'S auxi iary having accom-
plished his purpose at Chattanooga is back
again with his chief, corps and all—and
the Federal Commander awakes suddenly to the
knowledge that what LEE had contrived by
the aid of his lieutenant LONGSTREET,
in regard to ROSENCRANZ, LEE has again contrived
no less effectually and by the very same agency in
regard to MEADE himself. Insomuch does this now
actually turn out to be the case that upon the re-
turn of LONGSTREET'S corps—that is to say upon
the forward movement at last, in a body, by order
of LEE, of the whole Confederate army on
the banks of the Rapidan, upon the forward
movement of LEE'S whole army from the Rapi-
dan northwards (LEE doing this directly his
lieutenant LONGSTREET has returned from the
borders of Tennessee), the unfortunate Federal.
Commander-in-Chief finds himself outmanoeuvred
still mote completely and unmistakeably than
by LEE'S designs had even been ROSENCRANZ.
MEADE, in effect, we now learn, had found
no alternative bat to escape from a disas-
trous discomfiture by an instant retreat. The
Federal army had withdrawn bodily and with
such precipitation that all that could not
be carried away with them had to be burnt. They
have recrossed the Rappahannock, They have
withdrawn, en masse, northwards. LEE resuming
his old position upon that field already twice fatal
to the Federals, as the scene, for them, of two dis-
astrous Yankee Battles of the Spurs—the now
world-famous field of Bull Run. Such is the latest
" situation," in respect to the relative position of
the main armies of the American belligerents. Such
is the latest result of the warlike designs of that
great master of strategy, General LEE. His an-
tagonists have had to beat a hasty retreat. He him-
self takes new ground upon old ground—at Bull
Run, The Confederates will fight there with the
prestige of victory—the Federals with a damning
recollection of defeat. Let MEADE turn out to be beaten
there at Bull Run—as is probable—and the capital
of Washington will be open to the Confederates.
Like the Centurion in the Gospel, LEE has but to say
to any among these lieutenants of his, " Go there
and he goeth, do this and he doeth it." And certainly
the one who has been of late the most conspicuous
of them all in the faithful fulfilment of his great
leader's designs, the most conspicuous amongst
them, at least, since the lamented death of gloriaus
" Old STONEWALL," is that LONGSTREET, who
(certainly as yet) knows no turning !

The memory of a great man must be ranked
among the noblest possessions of his country, and
it is a possession common to all his countrymen.
The more numerous and distinguished the names
in her annals, the higher rank a country holds
in the story of the past, and the prouder the
position she occupies in the present. England is
rich in great men in arms, in arts, in science, in
literature, in statecraft, in philosophy, in philan-
thropy, and the names recorded on the memorial
tablets in her great cathedrals may bear com-
parison with those of any nation in the civilised
world. Sometimes she has not known or acknow-
ledged their merits until the recognition was too
late to do them service ; often the panegyrics on
their tombstones were the first words of public
praise that reached them. Envy and prejudice,
poverty and misfortune have too often stood in
the way of those born to rule or influence their
kind ; but some, more fortunate, if not more gifted,
have won the applause of their fellows while still
living to hear it, and have been placed among the
seats of honour while yet the position was of
value. They have received the meed of well-
earned confidence and distinction during their lives,
and over their graves men of all ranks, creeds, 1
and parties have united in tributes of approval
and expressions of regret. Such sentiments are
never more appropriate, or more impressive than
when uttered at the birth-place of the one who
has
that t
that to his grave full of honours. The fact
history
ectareer which has filled a marked place
in the
ory of the time opened unpretendingly
among
ittlitizstel.n i
themselves gives to the speakers a per-
sonalts meridian and its close. The
remembrance
that
took parth
politics the great man who has since
played a busy
in the broad arena of war, or
s
their
h.
subsequent achievements.
streets
gives
to first faltering steps along
each of the citizens
an individual share in
They feel with liatißfactl:B
that when his fortunes
are traced in coming yes':
en will look with in-
terest on the unattractive eis nat
the quiet village.
known as his birthplace and Ye' or
ltheir build-
a
Tthheayt areh
proud of the reflected honour,
,:rllycihhome.
their streets with his effigy
assembled
and to call to adorn
jogs with his name, to show to strangers
whose fame has crossed the seas perhaps was that he
tslolf-itthhesocmouenstuychoffeLealinnaersk
the born
among th.em. ° Princi-
pal inhabitants
last week in the Merchant's Hall, at Glasgow, with
d view to do honour to the memory of Lord CLYDE,
The monument which they proposed to erect to him
was not intended to be especially costly in its
nature, but was meant to include a largo number of
subscribers, with the view of giving expression to
the widespread respect and admiration for the brave
Scottish chieftain now laid to his rest. The meet-
ing was large and unanimous, as befitted such an
assembly in Sir COLIN CAMPBELL'S native city. A
fitting oration for such an occasion was delivered
CLYDE'S
by one who was no unworthy chronicler of Lord
fame and achievements. Sir ARCHIBALD
ALISON, in
an eloquent address, alluded to his own

personal friendship for the departed soldier, and
paid duo honour to his memory. Not at such a
time or place, he said, could he give a summary of
the deeds of the late Fie 'd Marshal, or even men-
tion the chief events in a career which extended
" from the time when he joined the British army in
1808, amidst the wooded cliffs of Portugal, on the
eve of the battle of Vimiera, to when he trampled
under foot the last embers of the Sepoy insurrec-
tion beneath the shadow of the mountains of Ne-
paul." But although Sir ARCHIBALD ALISON did
not attempt such a task as this, he could dwell on
the personal characteristics and substantial virtues
of his friend ; he could testify to the simplicity, the
generosity, the absence of all those mean and en-
vious feelings which sometimes shadow the nobility
of men who have achieved eminence. He could
dilate upon the high sense of duty which animated
Lord CLYDE, his promptness and willingness to
act in his country's service ; his modesty, which
was se great as to lead to misapprehension and pre-
vent him from doing himself justice. Sir ARCHI-
BALD could also dojustice to the merits of the Gene-
ral who, ever ready to hazard his own life, was
always sparing of his soldiers. The young officer
who led the forlorn hope at St. Sebastian was the
same leader, it is true, whose " thin red line" ex-
cited the wonder of friends and foes at Balakiava,
but he was also the commander who exhausted
every combination in his endeavour to accomplish
a necessary end with the' least possible sacrifice of
men. His capacities as Commander-in-Chief can
only be estimated by the last act in his long mili-
tary career—the final subjugation of the Sepoy
mutiny. Sir ARCHIBALD ALISON cited several in-
stances to prove that, however influence or preju-
dice might succeed in putting others before him
when times were fair, in the moment of emergency
acd peril, when real efficiency was needed, he was at
once turned to. The most remarkable occasion of
this sort is fresh in all our recollections, and we all
remember, too, the characteristic reply to the ques-
tion, when he could be ready to start for India—
"To-morrow morning." Arrived there, there was
no sign of haste or rashness to be found in the im-
petuous soldier. Some, indeed, blamed him for
dilatoriness and over-caution, but he heeded them
not, but went on his way steadily till the end was
won. It was an office of no small responsibility and
danger, for, in the words of his eulogist at the
Glasgow meeting, when marching from Cawnpore
to Lucknow, " He bore the fate of India on his
sword's point, for he was marching with 6,000 men
—our last reserve—to assail 60,000, intrenched to
the teeth, in the capital of Oude, with 15,000 vic-
torious rebels threatening his rear and communica-
tions." Such recollections may well animate his
countrymen to do honour to his fame, and in no
more fitting spot could they raise his memorial than
in the streets of his native city.

Among social improvers there are few who rank
higher, or whose rank exercise a more beneficial
influence on the community, than those who address
themselves to the wants and privations of the in-
mates of workhouses. There is no class of institu-
tion a: present existing in the metropolis or through-
out the country that stands in greater need of care
and attention than these receptacles for the desti-
tute. It may be said of them, lasciente agni
speranza vir cleentrale. While hospitals are price-
less boons to the poor and suffering, and while even
prisons and gaols are often rendered positive places
of relief, as regards physical comforts, it has been
proved by close investigation and attested by not-
able witnesses that the workhouse is per se, as it
were, among those establishments that receive a
large share of our population. This inferiority is
especially to be regretted, because for the most part
those who become denizens within its walls are com-
pelled so to do in consequence of great misfortunes
having befallen them, or of sickness depriving them
of the means of supporting themselves. The paper
read by Miss TWINING at the Social Science Con-
gress at Edinburgh goes far to show the great neces-
sity that prevails for some remedial measures to be
adopted. It seems a strange and a sad thing that
in this wealthy and benevoleut land, so many
charities should abound, and yet that by
some unaccountable mischance no provision
should be made for a class that particu-
larly deserves our commiseration. There are
many painful ordeals to be gone through in the
treatment of disease, many anxious moments of sus-
pense to be endured during its fluctuations, but
nothing else can so afflict the sufferer as to be told
that hope is
past. The human mind naturally
shrinks from the contemplation of such a dreary
and dismal prospect. It seems hard, then, to reflect
that there is no alleviation whatever afforded to
those unhappy beings who are dismissed from the
hospital as incurable. They are compelled, almost
without exception, to proceed to the workhouse,
where their condition is truly deplorable. There is
great truth in the remark of Miss TWINING that it
"certainly seems strange that, thoughtful and
liberal as we have been in these countries about the
temporarily sick, we have bestowed so little thought
in inquiring what becomes of all those incurably
sick persons who are annually dismissed from hos-
pitals." It is of no use to question the records of
the past, but it will be of the most service if we avoid
the recurrence of this unfortunate neglect for the
future. It stands to reason that one of the first
evils to be rectified is that glaring error mentioned
in this paper referred to, namely, the practice of cm-
ploying untrained pauper nurses, and these, too, with-
out a superintendent to watch their proceedings.
Hapless is the lot of the unhappy victims to lingering
maladies, to be subjected to so many of those minor
Alictions which, in the time of sickness anti de-
pression, assume a form of magnitude, and are a
grievous burthen. The Workhouse Visiting Society
has endeavoured to relieve some of the sufferings
alluded to by timely suggestions, and the introduc-
tion of sympathising visitors. Also an admirable
proposal was made, which, in some instances, has
been found to be most efficacious—namely, to place
the incurable in a separate ward, where they might
obtain more attention and voluntary relief, without
creating jealousy among the other inmates. The
plan suggested by Miss TWINING bids fair to miti-
gate the worst part of the evils now so prevalent.
It is that a ward should be set apart for those who
are able to pay a small sum, or whose friends can
pay for them. Hero they would have nearly all the
advantages of an hospital, and with the continued
care that cannot be afforded in those institutions,
many of the poor sufferers, whose recovery is now
deemed hopeless, would very likely be restored to
comparative health, or bo enabled to gain their
own livelihood. At present there are many
in this position, and if they contribute
their small stipend to their support, they
receive no .g distinction whatever" from those who
Pay nothing. The incurable wards, before refereed
to: I°4 partially Pa 11
y supply the wants of the destitute
Class, and thus
more than these numerous and grievously
afflicted members
of the community will be in a
fair way of seeing better days. Surely if one class
another claims our pity, merits our con-
sideration, and deserves our exertions, it is the in-
curable in workhouses. As at present they are
situated, in too many
eases they seem enduring a
state as monstroun, and a
posit
ien
that can afflict humanity. ;ni t everlasting
has shut them ftom day," so far as regards the coin-