Rutland weekly herald. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1859-1877, 1866-11-29
No One Man Indispensable.

The following eloquent extract from
the last letter Of Thomas Hughes, author
Of "Tom Brown at Oxford" in the New
York Tribune, teaches a mournful les
son to human ambition, by proving that
no one man is indispensable in the course
of human affairs, and that he is longest
remembered who dies fighting for the
right side:
ave have passed this week the first
anniversary of Palmerston's death,
which took place on October 81, of last
year. The world certainly does slide
with vengeance in our day, and it is
instructive, if not encouraging, to see
how she continues to spin around in her
course without any apparent discompo-
sure at the disappearance of eminent
statesmen. We are already half deliver
ed of reform bill; the East is in a
blaze, and Bismarck has absorbed the
best part of Germany in the name of "the
nationalities idea which was fool
ishness, to say the least, for the last of
the Lord Liverpool and earning school
of statesmen. Doubtless there are few
men who leave much real mark behind
them, but it is nevertheless startling to
think what large place Lord Palmer
ston filled in the stage Of Western Eu-
rope only thirteen months ago, and to
look round and see and feel already no
trace of his influence left among US. AZ
ter ALL it is only what the world is
pleased to call the fanatics-that small
and much-enduring band of whom she
is not worthy, whose sepulchres she
builds after having bounded them to
death-who win in the great game, and
score deeply on the great dial plate OF
history.
On the evening of this anniversary,
was on one of our bridges, over which a
volunteer regiment was marching back
from drill-marching at ease, with rifles
slupg over their shoulders. They were
singing, as is their wont-not altogether,
but by snatches-firsto one company, and
then another catching up the refrain,
which swelled up along the whole COL
umn. For momentI did not recognize
the chant, but as the head of the column
came close, the "Gory Halleluiah" OF
your John Browns march rung out, to
my surprise and delight, and foated
over the quiet waters of the Thames
down below. As the last company filed
way into tn dusk, couldn't help spec
ulating whether in fifty years time the
old New England yeoman, the hard
fighter in Kansas, who ended his DAYS
on the Virginia scaffold, would not count
for more with our grand children than
the successful Premier, the Cabinet Min
lister of more than half a century, who,
during eleven eventful years, from the
Crimean war to the time of his death,
ruled England and her empire pretty
much as he pleased. / came to the con-
clusion, without the least disparage-
men' to the gallant old gentleman who
lived his own kind of life bravely and
honestly enough, that for one English
speaking man who will at that time of
day hunt out affectionately Lord Pal
merston's last home in Westminster Alb
hey, hundred will be making pilgrim
ages to the wild little settlement in the
Adirondacs, and drinking in strength of
soul over the plain granite slab which
covers all that could die of Capt. John
Brown, the which conclu-
sion will, no doubt, be counted crazness
by nine. tenths of my own countrymsn ;
and even with you, who love the grand
old martyr, l doubt whether | could
reckon on majority for verdict of per-
feet sanity"