Catching the
light in the future’s skies,
Instinct
disowns each darkening prophecy:
Faith in
America never dies;
Heaven shall
the end ordained fulfill,
We march
with Providence cheery still.”
Herman
Melville’s gracious “Lee in the Capitol (April, 1866)” is the great poem of the
Civil War, urging not revenge but reconciliation. He included it in Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War, published in 1866 by Harper and Brothers, the
New York house that had published Moby-Dick
fifteen years earlier.
On Feb. 18,
1866, nearly a year after the Confederate surrender, Gen. Robert E. Lee testified
before the Joint Sub-Committee on Reconstruction. The committee convened to
resolve antagonisms between the Radical Republicans in Congress and President
Andrew Johnson over how reconstruction was to be carried out. Melville’s poem
is extraordinary, in part, because he was a strong Union supporter during the
war. In it, he sympathetically projects himself into the voice of the great Confederate
general and implicitly urges reconciliation. In the prose “Supplement” appended
to Battle-Pieces, Melville urges the
Radical Republicans to practice “prudence, not unaligned with entire
magnanimity,” and writes: “Benevolence and policy—Christianity and
Machiavelli—dissuade from penal severities toward the subdued.”
Melville
crafts a fictional speech for Lee, in which the retired general holds both
sides responsible for the war; the politicians (“intermeddlers”) in particular:
“I know your
partial thoughts do press
Solely on us
for war’s unhappy stress;
But
weigh--consider--look at all,
And broad
anathema you'll recall.
The censor's
charge I'll not repeat,
The meddlers
kindled the war’s white heat--
Vain
intermeddlers and malign,
Both of the
palm and of the pine…”
The passage
quoted at the top is spoken by Melville’s narrator in sympathetic counterpoint
to Lee’s dignified witness. I thought of the poem again while reading Philip Terzian’s column on the vulgarity, self-righteousness and incivility churned up by John McCain’s
death. Partisans on all sides, not surprisingly, behaved badly, without dignity,
honor or gratitude for McCain’s service to his country. Specifically, Terzian
notes McCain’s gestures of reconciliation toward the North Vietnamese, who had
held him as a prisoner of war for five and a half years. Terzian writes:
“If anyone
in public life was entitled to bear the memory of his captivity like an open
wound and practice ill-will toward the People’s Republic of Vietnam, it would
have been John McCain. And from my civilian’s perspective, it has never been
entirely clear that the regime in Hanoi was worthy of the senator’s regard,
much less forgiveness. But McCain surveyed the landscape from a soldier’s
perspective, and saw the North Vietnamese in honorable, even empathetic, terms.”
Melville
writes in his “Supplement”: “Patriotism is not baseness, neither is it
inhumanity. The mourners who this summer bear flowers to the mounds of the
Virginian and Georgian dead are, in their domestic bereavement and proud
affection, as sacred in the eye of Heaven as are those who go with similar
offerings of tender grief and love into the cemeteries of our Northern martyrs.”
My middle
son is a midshipman at the United States Naval Academy and was part of the ceremonial
guard on Sunday who lined the road leading to McCain’s burial place.
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