In January
1863 it was clear that state governors in the north could not raise
enough troops for the Union Army. On
3rd March, the federal government passed the Enrollment
Act. This was the first example of conscription or compulsory
military service in United States history. The decision to allow men
to avoid the draft by paying $300 to hire a substitute, resulted in
the accusation that this was a rich man's war and a poor man's fight.
Abraham Lincoln was also now ready to
give his approval to the formation of black
regiments. He had objected in May, 1862, when General David
Hunter began enlisting black soldiers into the 1st South Carolina
(African Descent) regiment. However, nothing was said when Hunter
created two more black regiments in 1863.
John Andrew, the governor of Massachusetts,
and a passionate opponent of slavery,
began recruiting black soldiers and established the 5th Massachusetts
(Colored) Cavalry Regiment and the 54th Massachusetts (Colored) and
the 55th Massachusetts (Colored) Infantry Regiments. In all, six regiments
of US Colored Cavalry, eleven regiments and four companies of US Colored
Heavy Artillery, ten batteries of the US Colored Light Artillery,
and 100 regiments and sixteen companies of US Colored Infantry were
raised during the war. By the end of the conflict nearly 190,000 black
soldiers and sailors had served in the Union forces.
On 25th January, Major General Joseph Hooker
replaced Ambrose Burnside as the commander
of the Army of Potomac. Two months later Hooker, with over 104,000
men, began to move south. In April, 1863, Hooker, decided to attack
Lee's army that had been entrenched on the south side of the Rappahonnock
River since the battle of Fredericksburg.
Hooker crossed the river and took up position at Chancellorsville.
Although outnumbered two to one, Robert E.
Lee opted to split his Confederate Army
into two groups. Lee left 10,000 men under Jubal
Early, while on 2nd May, he sent Thomas
Stonewall Jackson to attacked the flank of Hooker's army. The
attack was successful but after returning from the battlefield Jackson
was accidentally shot by one of his own men. Jackson's left arm was
successfully amputated but he developed pneumonia
and he died eight days later.
On the 3rd May, James Jeb Stuart, who
had taken command of Jackson's troops, mounted another attack and
drove Joseph Hooker back further. The
following day Lee and Jubal Early joined
the attack on the Union Army. By 6th
May, Hooker had lost over 11,000 men, and decided to retreat from
the area.
Later that month Joseph E. Johnston
ordered General John Pemberton to
attack Ulysses S. Grant at Clinton, Mississippi.
Considering this too risky, Pemberton decided to attack Grant's supply
train on the road between Grand Gulf and Raymond. Discovering Pemberton's
plans, Grant attacked the Confederate Army
at Champion's Hill. Pemberton was badly defeated and with the remains
of his army returned to their fortifications around Vicksburg.
After two failed assaults, Grant decided to starve Pemberton out.
This strategy proved successful and on 4th July, Pemberton surrendered
the city. The western Confederacy was now completely isolated from
the eastern Confederacy and the Union Army
had total control of the Mississippi River.
Robert E. Lee now decided to take the war
to the north. The Confederate Army reached
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania on 1st
July. The town was quickly taken but the Union
Army, led by Major General George Meade,
arrived in force soon afterwards and for the next two days the town
was the scene of bitter fighting. Attacks led by James
Jeb Stuart, George Pickett and
James Longstreet proved costly and
by the 5th July, Lee decided to retreat south. Both sides suffered
heavy losses with Lee losing 28,063 men and Meade 23,049.
Abraham Lincoln was encouraged by the
army's victories at Vicksburg and
Gettysburg, but was dismayed by
the news of the Draft Riots in several
American cities. There was heavy loss of life in Detroit
but the worst rioting took place in New York
City in July. The mob set fire to an African American church and
orphanage, and attacked the office of the New
York Tribune. Started by Irish
immigrants, the main victims were African Americans and activists
in the anti-slavery movement. The Union
Army were sent in and had to open fire on the rioters in order
to gain control of the city. By the time the riot was over, nearly
a 1,000 people had been killed or wounded.
In September, 1863, General Braxton Bragg
and his troops attacked union armies led by George
H. Thomas and William Rosecrans
at Chickamauga. Thomas was able to
hold firm but Rosecrans and his men fled to Chattanooga. Bragg followed
and was attempting to starve Rosecrans out when union forces led by
Ulysses S. Grant, Joseph
Hooker and William Sherman arrived.
Bragg was now forced to retreat and did not stop until he reached
Dalton, Georgia. The Union Army now controlled the whole of Tennessee.
Major General George Meade also followed
the army of Robert E. Lee back south. Lee
ordered several counter-attacks but was unable to prevent the Union
Army advance taking place. Lee decided to dig in along the west
bank of the Mine Run. Considering the fortifications too strong, Meade
decided against an assault and spent the winter on the north bank
of the Rapidan.
(1)
In his diary Walt
Whitman recorded his visits
to wounded soldiers in Washington (4th February, 1863)
Visited Armory Square Hospital. Supplied paper and envelopes
to all who wished - as usual, found plenty of men who needed those
articles. Wrote letters. Saw and talked with two or three members
of the Brooklyn 14th Regiment. A poor fellow in Ward D, with a fearful
wound in a fearful condition, was having some loose splinters of bone
taken from the neighborhood of the wound. The operation was long,
and one of great pain, yet, after it was well commenced, the soldier
bore it in silence. He sat up, propped, was much wasted, had lain
a long time time quiet in one position (not for days but weeks), a
bloodless, brown-skinned face, with eyes full of determination.
One young New York man, with a bright, handsome face, had been lying
several months from a disagreeable wound, received at Bull Run. A
bullet had shot him right through the bladder, hitting him front,
low in the belly, and coming out back. He had suffered much - the
water came out of the wound, by slow but steady quantities, for many
weeks - so that he lay almost constantly in a sort of puddle - and
there were other disagreeable circumstances. At present comparatively
comfortable, had a bad throat, was delighted with a stick of horehound
candy I gave him, with one or two other trifles.
(2) Abraham Lincoln,
in discussion with journalists about General George
McClellan (March, 1863)
I do not, as some do, regard McClellan either as a traitor or an officer
without capacity. He sometimes has bad counselors, but he is loyal,
and he has some fine military qualities. I adhered to him after nearly
all my constitutional advisers lost faith in him. But do you want
to know when I gave him up? It was after the battle of Antietam. The
Blue Ridge was then between our army and Lee's. I directed McClellan
peremptorily to move on Richmond. It was eleven days before he crossed
his first man over the Potomac; it was eleven days after that before
he crossed the last man. Thus he was twenty-two days in passing the
river at a much easier and more practicable ford than that where Lee
crossed his entire army between dark one night and daylight the next
morning. That was the last grain of sand which broke the camel's back.
I relieved McClellan at once.
(3) General
Oliver Howard
took part in the battle of Chancellorsville
in May, 1863. He later wrote about it in his autobiography published
in 1907.
Chancellorsville was a dreadful field. The dead were strewn through
forest and open farms. The wounded had often to wait for days before
succor came. Sometimes it never came. One officer on my personal staff,
Captain F. Dessaur, was killed while near me beside Barlow's entrenchments,
endeavoring to rally the panic-stricken men. His young wife had besought
him to resign and come home to Brooklyn, New York, before the battle
commenced. He tendered his resignation, explaining the peculiar circumstances
of the case. But we were before the enemy, and soon to be engaged
in battle, so that I wrote my disapproval upon his application. Poor
fellow, he was slain, and my heart was deeply pained at his loss and
in sympathy with his stricken family. Dessaur is an example of that
dreadful sacrifice made in the cause of our national unity and of
human liberty.
(4) In his diary Walt
Whitman recorded the arrival
of the wounded from the battle of Chancellorsville
(May, 1863)
The wounded have begun to arrive from Hooker's command from bloody
Chancellorsville. I was down among the first arrivals. The men in
charge told me the bad cases were yet to come. If that is so I pity
them, for these are bad enough. You ought to see the scene of the
wounded arriving on the landing here at the foot of Sixth Street,
at night. Two boat loads came about half-past seven last night. the
pale, helpless soldiers had been debarked, and lay around on the wharf
and neighborhood anywhere. The rain was, probably, grateful to them;
at any rate they were exposed to it. The few torches light up the
spectacle. All round - on the wharf, on the ground, out on side places
- the men are lying on blankets, old quilts, etc., with bloody rags
bound round heads, arms, and legs.
The attendants are few, and at night few outsiders also - only a few
hard-worked transportation men and drivers. The wounded are getting
to be common, and people grow callous. The men, whatever their condition,
lie there, and patiently wait till their turn comes to be taken up.
The men generally make little or do ado, whatever their sufferings.
A few groans that cannot be suppressed, and occasionally a scream
of pain as they lift a man into the ambulance. Today, as I write,
hundreds more are expected, and tomorrow and the next day more, and
so on for many days. Quite often they arrive at the rate of 1000 a
day.
(5) In his diary Walt
Whitman recorded his visits
to wounded soldiers in Washington
(18th June, 1863)
In one of the hospitals I find Thomas
Haley, company M, 4th New York cavalry. A regular Irish boy, a fine
specimen of youthful physical manliness, shot through the legs, inevitably
dying. Came over to this country from Ireland to enlist. Is sleeping
soundly at this moment (but it is the sleep of death). Has a bullet-hole
through the lung. I saw Tom when first brought here, three days since,
and didn't suppose he could live twelve hours. Much of the time he
sleeps, or half sleeps. I often come and sit by him in perfect silence;
he will breathe for ten minutes as softly and evenly as a young babe
asleep. Poor youth, so handsome, athletic, with profuse beautiful
shining hair. One time as I sat looking at him while he lay asleep,
he suddenly, without the least start, awakened, opened his eyes, gave
me a long steady look, turning his face very slightly to gaze easier,
one long, clear, silent look, a slight sigh, then turned back and
went into his doze again.
In one bed a young man, Marcus Small, company K, 7th Maine. Sick with
dysentery and typhoid fever. Pretty critical case, I talk with him
often. He thinks he will die, looks like it indeed. I write a letter
for him to East Livermore, Maine. I let him talk to me a little, but
not much, advise him to keep very quiet. Do most of the talking myself,
stay quite a while with him, as he holds on to my hand.
Opposite, an old Quaker lady sits by the side of her son, Amer Moore,
2nd U.S. Artillery. Shot in the head two weeks since, very low, quite
rational, from hips down paralyzed, he will surely die. I speak a
very words to him every day and evening. He answers pleasantly, wants
nothing. He told me soon after he came about his home affairs, his
mother had been an invalid, and he feared to let her know his condition.
He died soon after she came.
(6) General
Oliver Howard
wrote about the appointment of George Meade
as commander of the Army of the Potomac in June, 1863, in his autobiography
published in 1907.
I had known Meade before the war, having met him and traveled
with him on our northern lakes when he was on engineering duty in
that region, and I had seen him frequently after the outbreak of hostilities.
As I entered his tent, he extended his hand, and said: "How are
you, Howard?" He demurred at any congratulation. He looked tall
and spare, weary, and a little flushed, but I knew him to be a good,
honest soldier, and gathered confidence and hope from his thoughtful
face. To him I appeared but a lad, for he had graduated in 1835 at
the Military Academy, nineteen years before me. He won me over by
his thoroughness and fidelity than by any show of sympathy or companionship.
To me, of course, he stood in the light of an esteemed, experienced
regular officer, old enough to be my father, but like a father that
one can trust without his showing him any special regard. So we respected
and trusted Meade from the beginning.
(7) In
his memoirs Ulysses S. Grant described
the capture of Vicksburg in July,
1863.
On 3rd July, about ten o'clock a.m. white flags appeared on a portion
of the rebel works. It was a glorious sight to officers and soldiers
on the line where these white flags were visible, and the news spread
to all parts of the command. The troops felt that their long and weary
marches, hard fighting, ceaseless watching by night and day, in a
hot climate, exposure to all sorts of weather, to diseases and, worst
of all, to the gibes of many Northern papers that came to them saying
all their suffering was in vain, that Vicksburg would never be taken,
were at last at an end and the Union sure to be saved.
This news, with the victory at Gettysburg won the same day, lifted
a great load of anxiety from the minds of the President, his Cabinet
and the loyal people all over the North. The fate of the Confederacy
was sealed when Vicksburg fell. Much hard fighting was to be done
afterwards and many precious lives were to be sacrificed; but the
morale was with the supporters of the Union ever after.
(8) General Oliver
Howard took part in the battle of Gettysburg.
In his autobiography Howard wrote about his feelings after the battle
had finished.
It is sometimes said to me that writing and speaking upon
the events of war may have a deleterious influence upon youth. I can
conceive of two reasons of such a warning - one, that a soldier by
his enthusiasm may, even unconsciously, infuse into his writing and
speech the war spirit, and thus incite strong desires in younger minds
for similar excitements and deeds; and secondly, a soldier deeply
affected as he must have been in our great struggle for national existence,
may not take sufficient pains in his accounts of historic incidents
to allay any spirit of animosity or dissension what may still exist.
But with regard to the first, I think there is need of a faithful
portraiture of what we may call the after-battle, a panorama which
shows with fidelity the fields covered with dead men and horses; and
the wounded, numerous and helpless, stretched on the ground in masses,
each waiting his turn; the rough hospitals with hay and straw for
bedding, saturated with blood and wet with the rain; horses torn into
fragments; every species of property ruthlessly demolished or destroyed
- these, which we cannot well exaggerate, and such as these, cry out
against the horrors, the hateful ravages, and the countless because
of war. They show plainly to our children that war, with its embodied
woes and furies, must be avoided, except as the last appeal for existence,
or for the rights which are more valuable than life itself.
When I dwell on the scenes on July 4th and 5th at Gettysburg, the
pictures exhibiting Meade's men and Lee's though now shadowy from
time, are still full of terrible groupings and revolting lineaments.
There is a lively energy, an emulous activity, an exhilarating buoyancy
of spirit in all the preparations for an expected battle, and these
feelings are intensified into an increased ardor during the conflict;
but it is another thing to see our comrades there upon the ground
with their darkened faces and swollen forms; another thing to watch
the countenances of friends and companions but lately in the bloom
of health, now disfigured, torn, and writhing in death; and not less
affecting to a sensitive heart to behold the multitude of strangers
prone and weak, pierced with wounds, or showing broken limbs and every
sign of suppressed suffering, waiting for hours and hours for a relief
which is long coming - the relief of the surgeon's knife or of death.
As to the second reason, any feeling of personal resentment towards
the late Confederates I would not counsel or cherish. Our countrymen
- large numbers of them - combined and fought us hard for a cause.
They failed and we succeeded; so that, in an honest desire for reconcilement,
I would be the more careful, even in the use of terms, to convey no
hatred or reproach for the past. Such are my real convictions, and
certainly the intention in all my efforts is not to anger and separate,
but to pacify and unite.
(9) In his memoirs Ulysses
S. Grant was highly critical of General Henry
Halleck, his Commander-in-Chief in 1863.
Having cleaned up about Vicksburg I suggested to the General-in-Chief
the idea of a campaign against Mobile. Halleck disapproved of my proposition
so that I was obliged to settle down and see myself put again on the
defensive. It would have been an easy thing to capture Mobile at the
time I proposed to go there. The troops from Mobile could have inflicted
inestimable damage upon much of the country from which Bragg's army
and Lee's were yet receiving their supplies. I was so much impressed
with this idea that I renewed my request later in July and again about
the 1st August. Both requests were refused.
After the capture of Corinth a movable force of eighty thousand men,
besides enough to hold all the territory required, could have been
set in motion for the accomplishment of any great campaign for the
suppression of the rebellion. If Buell had been sent directly to Chattanooga
as rapidly as he could march, leaving two or three divisions along
the line of the railroad from Nashville forward, he could have arrived
with but little fighting, and would have saved much of the loss of
life which was afterwards incurred in gaining Chattanooga. Bragg would
then not have had time to raise an army to contest the possession
of Tennessee and Kentucky; the battles of Stone River and Chickamauga
would not necessarily have been fought. These are the negative advantages,
if the term negative is applicable, which would probably have resulted
from prompt movements after Corinth fell into the possessions of the
National forces. the positive results might have been: a bloodless
advance to Atlanta, to Vicksburg, or to any other desired point south
of Corinth in the interior of Mississippi.
(10) George E.
Pickett, letter to his wife after the battle at Gettysburg
(6th July, 1863)
The sacrifice of life on that bloodsoaked field on the fatal 3rd
was too awful for the heralding of victory, even for our victorious
foe, who, I think, believe as we do, that it decided the fate of our
cause. No words can picture the anguish of that roll call - the breathless
waits between the responses. The "Here" of those who, by
God's mercy, had miraculously escaped the awful rain of shot and shell
with a sob - a gasp - a knew - for the unanswered name of his comrade
called before his.
Even now I can hear them cheering as I gave the order, "Forward"!
I can feel their faith and trust in me and their love for our cause.
I can feel the thrill of their joyous voices as they called out all
along the line, "We'll follow you, Master George. We'll follow
you, we'll follow you." Oh, how faithfully they kept their word,
following me on, on to their death, and I, believing in the promised
support, led them on, on, on.
Oh, God! I can't write you a love letter today, my Sallie, for, with
my great love for you and my gratitude to God for sparing my life
to devote to you, comes the overpowering thought of those whose lives
were sacrificed - of the brokenhearted widows and mothers and orphans.
The moans of my wounded boys, the sight of the dead, upturned faces
flood my soul with grief; and here am I, whom they trusted, whom they
followed, leaving them on the field of carnage.
(11) Carl
Schurz served under General George
Meade at the battle of Gettysburg
in July, 1863.
To look after the wounded of my command,
I visited the places where the surgeons were at work. At Bull Run,
I had seen only a very small scale what I was now to behold. At Gettysburg
the wounded - many thousands of them - were carried to the farmsteads
behind our lines. The houses, the barns, the sheds, and the open barnyards
were crowded with moaning and wailing human beings, and still an unceasing
procession of stretchers and ambulances was coming in from all sides
to augment the number of the sufferers.
A heavy rain set in during the day - the usual rain after a battle
- and large numbers had to remain unprotected in the open, there being
no room left under roof. I saw long rows of men lying under the eaves
of the buildings, the water pouring down upon their bodies in streams.
Most of the operating tables were placed in the open where the light
was best, some of them partially protected against the rain by tarpaulins
or blankets stretched upon poles. There stood the surgeons, their
sleeves rolled up to the elbows, their bare arms as well as their
linen aprons smeared with blood, their knives not seldom held between
their teeth, while they were helping a patient on or off the table,
or had their hands otherwise occupied; around them pools of blood
and amputated arms or legs in heaps, sometimes more than man-high.
Antiseptic methods were still unknown at that time. As a wounded man
was lifted on the table, often shrieking with pain as the attendants
handled him, the surgeon quickly examined the wound and resolved upon
cutting off the injured limb. Some ether was administered and the
body put in position in a moment. The surgeon snatched his knife from
between his teeth, where it had been while his hands were busy, wiped
it rapidly once or twice across his blood-stained apron, and the cutting
began. The operation accomplished, the surgeon would look around with
a deep sigh, and then - "Next!"
(12) Walt
Whitman was in Washington
when news was published about the battle at Gettysburg
(4th July, 1863)
As I went down the Avenue, saw a big flaring placard on the bulletin
board of a newspaper office, announcing "Glorious Victory for
the Union Army!" Meade had fought Lee at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania,
yesterday and the day before, and repulsed him most signally, taken
3,000 prisoners.
I walked on to Armory Hospital - took along with me several bottles
of blackberry and cherry syrup, good and strong, but innocent. Went
through several of the wards, announced to the soldiers the news from
Meade, and gave them all a good drink of the syrups with ice water.
Meanwhile the Washington bells are ringing their sundown peals for
Fourth of July, and the usual fusillades of boys' pistols, crackers,
and guns.
(13) Henry
Villard worked for the New
York Tribune during the American
Civil War. Villard found General William
T. Sherman hostile to his attempts to report the war.
General Sherman looked upon journalists
as a nuisance and a danger at headquarters and in the field, and acted
toward them accordingly, then as throughout his great war career.
I did not, of course, agree with him at that time as to my own calling,
but candor constrains me to say that I had to admit in the end that
he was entirely right. For what I then observed, on the one hand,
of the natural eagerness of volunteer officers of all grades (of whom
so many were aspiring politicians at home) to get themselves favorably
noticed in the press, even at the cost of indiscretions, and, on the
other hand, of the publishing army news, must lead any unprejudiced
mind to the conclusion that the harm certain to be done by war correspondents
far outweighs any good they can possibly do. If I were a commanding
general I would not tolerate any of the tribe within my army lines.
(14) Benjamin F.
Butler,
Autobiography and Reminiscences (1892)
In the spring of 1863, I had another conversation with President Lincoln
upon the subject of the employment of negroes. The question was, whether
all the negro troops then enlisted and organized should be collected
together and made a part of the Army of the Potomac and thus reinforce
it.
We then talked of a favourite project he had of getting rid of the
negroes by colonization, and he asked me what I thought of it. I told
him that it was simply impossible; that the negroes would not go away,
for they loved their homes as much as the rest of us, and all efforts
at colonization would not make a substantial impression upon the number
of negroes in the country.
Reverting to the subject of arming the negroes, I said to him that
it might be possible to start with a sufficient army of white troops,
and, avoiding a march which might deplete their ranks by death and
sickness, to take in ships and land them somewhere on the Southern
coast. These troops could then come up through the Confederacy, gathering
up negroes, who could be armed at first with arms that they could
handle, so as to defend themselves and aid the rest of the army in
case of rebel charges upon it. In this way we could establish ourselves
down there with an army that would be a terror to the whole South.
Our conversation then turned upon another subject which had been frequently
a source of discussion between us, and that was the effect of his
clemency in not having deserters speedily and universally punished
by death.
I called his attention to the fact that the great bounties then being
offered were such a temptation for a man to desert in order to get
home and enlist in another corps where he would be safe from punishment,
that the army was being continually depleted at the front even if
replenished at the rear.
He answered with a sorrowful face, which always came over him when
he discussed this topic: "But I can't do that, General."
"Well, then," I replied, "I would throw the responsibility
upon the general-in-chief and relieve myself of of it personally."
With a still deeper shade of sorrow he answered: "The responsibility
would be mine, all the same."
(15) Walt
Whitman , November
Boughs (1888)
One of my war time reminiscences comprises the quiet side scene
of a visit I made to the First Regiment U.S. Colored Troops, at their
encampment on July 11, 1863. Though there is now no difference of
opinion to enlisting blacks during the earlier years of the secession
war. Even then, however, they had their champions. "That the
colored race," said a good authority, "is capable of military
training and efficiency, is demonstrated by the testimony of numberless
witnesses, and by the eagerness displayed in the raising, organizing,
and drilling of African troops. Few white regiments make a better
appearance on parade than the First and Second Louisiana Native Guards.
The same remark is true of other colored regiments. At Milliken's
Bend, at Vicksburg, at Port Hudson, on Morris Island, and wherever
tested, they have exhibited determined bravery, and compelled the
plaudits alike of the thoughtful and thoughtless soldiery.
(16) After Chickamauga,
General James Longstreet sent a
letter to the Secretary of War complaining about General Braxton
Bragg (October, 1863)
I am convinced that nothing but the hand of God can save us or
help us as long as we have our present commander. Now, to our wants.
Can't you send us General Lee? We need some such great mind. You will
be surprised to learn that this army has neither organization nor
mobility, and I have doubts if its commander can give it them. When
I came here, I hoped to find our commander willing and anxious to
do all things that would aid us in our great cause, and ready to receive
what aid he could get from his subordinates. It seems that I was greatly
mistaken. It seems that he cannot adopt and adhere to any plan or
course, whether of his own or of some one else.
(17) Frederick Douglass, speech
at the Anti-Slavery Society in Philadelphia
during the American Civil War (4th December,
1863)
I am one of those who believe that it is the mission of this war to
free every slave in the United States. I am one of those who believe
that we should consent to no peace which shall not be an Abolition
peace. I am, moreover, one of those who believe that the work of the
American Anti-Slavery Society will not have been completed until the
black man of the South, and the black men of the North, shall have
been admitted, fully and completely, into the body politic of America.
I look upon slavery as going the way of all the earth. It is the mission
of the war to put it down.
I know it will be said that I ask you to make the black man a voter
in the South. It is said that the coloured man is ignorant, and therefore
he shall not vote. In saying this, you lay down a rule for the black
man that you apply to no other class of your citizens. If he knows
enough to be hanged, he knows enough to vote. If he knows an honest
man from a thief, he knows much more than some of our white voters.
If he knows enough to take up arms in defence of this Government and
bare his breast to the storm of rebel artillery, he knows enough to
vote.
All I ask, however, in regard to the blacks, is that whatever rule
you adopt, whether of intelligence or wealth, as the condition of
voting for whites, you shall apply it equally to the black man. Do
that, and I am satisfied, and eternal justice is satisfied; liberty,
fraternity, equality, are satisfied, and the country will move on
harmoniously.
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