The examiner. [volume] (Louisville, Ky.) 1847-1849, 1847-07-03

lief in religion, who would sustain war.
But this cannot be- The dreadful sight must
be seen TO be realized, and seen. too. by those
u mace ustomed to such sights. Death, when re-
ported 10 us, as occurring the field Of battle
is robbed of all Its terror by the descriptions OF
heroic courage, and calm selfpossession, amid
irving conflict. We forget, when victory is
won, the piles of slaughtered men who lie dis
iicu red gashed in face, with limbs severed, or
heads crushed in, and the wounded, uttering
their wall of woe, and feeble cries for "waser
and for help, so that even woman. tender heart.
ed woman, ready TO faint at the shedding of
drop Of blood. TO weep at the faintest sob Of hui
man misery, waves her 'kerchief, and mingles
in her sweet voice with the manlier shouts of
the multitude, as it makes the welkin ring
again, when victory is won.
Yet it's true that there is no such hardener Of
the affections Apart from its immoral
ity, and all its wicked tendencies, familiarity |
with it, and its rough usagcs. and inhuman arts,
makes the majority Of those who follow it cal |
ous to present suffering, and indifferent to the
heaviest pain. The young soldier, when he first
sees bodies torn and manged, shrinks away, half
sick, and giddy at the sight A second expert
ence weakens the shock. A third familarizes
him to it; fourth makes him reckless. And,
at last, his comrade may fall by his side, or heaps
| Of wounded be scattered round him, or piles of
dead lay CHASTITY and bleeding in his walk, and
yet he will prepare his meal, or pass his joke, AS
though these butchered human beings were
flowers filling the air with sweetness, or natures
ornaments covering tie rich earth with lowell
ness. War grips our bettsr affections with all
iron clasp, and brushes them all. 1t treads
down our nobler aspirations as the whirlwind
does the corn.
Looking, the other day, over an old torn book,
called LEoNrINE. in a farm house whittier We
had strayei to take shelter from the rain, We
found vivid description OF a battle scene, and
the incidents accompanying it, which illustrates
well these influences. The time of action was the
age Of LoUis the FIFTEENTH; the place France. 1t
was of the famous battle of FouNrEyAY that the
writer spoke. The contending hosts were ni.h :;
ere another day could pass. they must meet in
deadly conflict. And what, reader, was the en-
ployment, al such a time, Of the monarch his
generals. and the soldery. far they were
permitted TO join with them There was in
the centre of the camp huge theatre erected,
and there had gathered the hest performers,
and loveliest women. Of all France. TO make
merry the stout men of arms. They played for
them. and before the comedy began, the prettiesi
actress said:
"Gentemen. relax yourselves on account OF
the battle; after tomorrow We shall play Am
our Vol,igeur"
Says the author of l.EoSrrNE:
"Th-se words were uttered by Mademoiselle
Favart the pret,iest of French actresses, not a.
usual from the boards of theatre al Paris, Saint
Cloud, or Versailles. but in one which stood in
the centre Of camp, where with two hostile
armies almost in presence. and upon the eve 81
{ battle, every heart was palptating with conf
, d-ncc and hope Never had the fascinating
Mademoselle favart made her parting courtesy
Ia enraptured an audience. and never had IN.
T perfect knowledge which she possessed OF tn,
: spirit and feelings of her country men been dis
PLAYED with trusr tact than by the few words
in which she had chosen to address them.
The after tomorrow spoke volumes I,
t every breast, and many times was the beautiful
actress recalled 10 receive the hsttering tribute
she well deserved. and 10 witness the enthusi
asm her graceful expression had excited 10
point amos, beyond control. She smiled anS
n curtseG again and again; and As she laid he
4 hand upon her heart and turned her bright eye
slowly 10 every part Of the theatre if To ,hanl
each individual present, shadow even mo
n mentarily darkened her fair browne though
= | of the morrow caused her bosom Of snow {,
heave with pang sharper than the ilutlering o
gratiiied vanity. What was it TO her that man,
u of the joyous voices, TO which she now listene
= with beating heart and flushing cheek, shout
soon b. husheC-- Others would sound in thei
roon,--the same applause would attend upon he
steps--why should she iorbodc evil She Wa
y bat an nctress-an actress and a Parisiau, an,
= though she could talk of glory. her own Wa
= naturally her first and only serious thought
. | the success of 4 new part, the triumph over
rival. the picturesque effect Of new costume
e these were her glories she thought of little be
d yond. and therefore il was when she spoke tn
awful words. 'relaX-on account of the battle.
: her lip did not trcmblc for the after Tomorrow
i was TO her an event of almost certainty"
i This is historic fact, and history tells u
e that the French won the day a, Fountenay
y The troops fought brayely. Hundreds upo
e hundreds were slain. But "thc day after TO
e morrow" came, and again that theatre wa
l. crowded. and huzzas went up for the ac,res
= who had paid French courage pretty a com
= pliment. But the dead. and dying, and wounde
where were they The widows heart then
" al now, might bleed for husband slain. TIL
mother. too, might mourn the To- of an only sor
But monarch, officers, and m Il crowded IN
u theatre to hear L'Amour Voltgeur, and had no
!. the earth been drenched in blood and the dea
lay unburied near by. and the wounded brok
;. the silence by their means, none would hav
dreamed that death had been so busy. or ths
man could be 30 brutal.
"Oh, yes,' answers one. "ths occurred i
the olden time, and among barbarous people
but il would not be SO now" 4 part of il onl,
The theatre would not answer on modern bal
tle-felds But as for the rest-who shall sa
=. we are better now, than the French were i
Lous's timel Who pretend to deny. that ther
are--that there must be-when wars are bega
:. and Observation-Disclosures 10 human suffering
and a recklessncss abou' human life, whic
I. would shock us, as inhuman brutality, if mani
Tested any where else ?
War is ever curse. We HAY crown i,
! in them as if We would make their names i'm
: mortal. But even they feel the curse Of wal
= and the hour will be, too, when thew will &C
knowledge it. Where, indeed, is the brave an
l L