The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1863-03-06
LIFE IN THE ARMY.
TWO YEARS OF WAR-LGHTS AND SHAD-
OWS-CAMPS AND CAMPERS, &C.
Correspondence of St. Louis Republican.
GAYosA HOUSE,, MEMPHIS, }

GAYosA HOUSE, MEMPHIs,(
Saturday, February 14.)
War is sometimes a necessity this is
its best defence. 1t is not to be liked for
its own sake, it is to be tolerated, deplored,
but never in the eyes of enlightened men
to be courted, prolonged or loved. We
have indeed heard something about the
"cultivation of the manly virtues" but
the remark only reminds us Of the Chi
nese method of roasting eggs-by burning
down the house.
To our eyes it is rather school Of vices
than virtues; stimulation of the demOni-
&C in our natures rather than the angelic.
ssThe Knights are dust,
| Their swords are rust
Their souls are with the saints, we trust; I"
and there let them rest. So far as our
observation extends it would be better for
the world and humanity if their shades
| should never disturb mundane affairs more.
Strangely as it may sound, we are praying
for peace. We despise war heartily. Not
alone on economical or political or human
tartan, but on personal grounds we are
wishing the rebellion were crushed, that
we may once more welcome meek-eyed
| Peace.
We this morning rode over the adjacent
camps, and returned well despatched and
dripping wet. Nothing novel, attractive,
or unusual in the sight. For two years
we have been more or less in the atmos-
phere, the talk and the sight of camps
The big guns, and the swords and banners,
=" All the pride, pomp, and circumstance
Of glorious war;"
are grown too familiar to our eyes. Never
was there less pomp, less glory, less tinsel,
less display than on this occasion. The
very nadir of which field day may be
called the zenith.
The sky invisible for drifting clouds, a
gray, bleak morning, with constant drip
ping, soaking, sodden, sombre, sobbing
rain. The mud foot deep, and roads cut
up into deep cutters, the stained tents
standing specially in the watery expanse.
Groups of blue coats budding beneath
them, like wet chickens under shed. No
holiday review, but sad, solemn picture
of real war-life. The couleur de rose is
nowhere visible. Not in the yielding mud
couch, not in the aches of rheumatism,
not in the coarse food, not in the CONVEX
sation, not in the walk and intercourse OF
camp.
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS.
Yet these are not the seventies of war;
this is its mildest or perhaps an average
type. How can men live in it, endure it,
like it? What must be the measure OF
that patriotism, that deep conviction, that
infatuation, ambition if you please, which
can sustain men month after month, year
after year, in such course of existence
| Some of them, however, are even content
ed. The army may be divided into two
grand classes fighters and soldiers The
one class for whom war has positive fas-
cination; the other to whom it is painful
duty. Who has not wondered, in the past,
what strange influence could be found to
engage so many men in buchaneering and
| fllibustering enterprises? Happily, or un-
happily for us, it is this wonderful adapta-
bility in mans nature which makes even
the rude, nomadic life not endurable mere
ly, but enjoyable; serves to create and
prolong war. There are some born
warriors and disturbers of the peace, whose
destiny is to set the world in blaze, occa-
sionally. Men who never prosper at any
thing, often succeed in war; who never
could learn habits of thrift, of steadiness,
of restraint. To such reckless, bolster
Gus, audacious spirits, the army offers a
tempting field. The risk, the adventure,
the love of command, the insOceciauce, the
charm of rank, appeal strongly to the
rough energy of these social Ishmaelites.
Then there is that large class whose bro
ken fortunes, disappointed ambition, blight
ed affections, not to dwell upon those fer
tile aids to the recruiting Sergeant, mesal.
liances, escapades, family jars, all tend to
swell the lists of the adventurous, aban-
doned characters, who find an asylum in
the army. But little is generally required
to convert or pervert such into the hard
beaten character of rowing soldier.
The other class is composed of those
who, whether conscript or voluntary, are
apt to regard war as waste, barbarism
and violence. Men of trade, men OF
leisure or profession, whose civil robes
are never entirely merged in the uniform
of soldier. Their old habits of thought
are retained they think, project, hope
and fear; they pine for the end E; they
breathe in alien air. War has no charm
for them, though it has no fears. They
would follow principles, not men. They
want war that they may have peace.
This element has large representation
in the army Con both sides)., Two years
of war have not increased their love for
the profession of arms, though it may
have enlarged their knowledge. The tin
sci is worn off, the traditional soldier a
myth. They are ready to fight, to throw
down their arms, to return to their homes,
to plunge once more into their avoca-
tons. They cannot forget the attrac-
tons of home, the comforts, the luxu-
ries, the sweets, the friends, the girls
they left behind them, and for whom
they have not ceased to sigh day and
night.
We are reminded of this class by the
groups of soldiers who have to-day and
yesterday thronged the news depots, crop.
ing about in that pile of mercantile sense
nonsense, sentiment, wit, satire and carl.
cature which finds mar et at this season
of the year. Soldiers with red. hurley,
chapped hands and great humping, hon.
| esf hearts purchasing mandl;no vorso in