The Greek Thersites did not return
to claim a pension."
The dash of bitterness in this remark must not be taken too seriously.
The fact remains, however, that among the veterans of the South there
prevails a certain feeling of aloofness from the national jubilation
over the Spanish War. They "don't take much stock in it." The feeling is
widespread, I believe, but not loud-voiced. If I represented it as
surly or undignified, I should misrepresent it grossly. It is simply the
outcome of an ancient and deep-seated sorrow, not to be salved by
phrases or ceremonies--the most tragic emotion, I think, with which I
ever came face to face. But it prevails almost exclusively among the
older generation in the South, the men who "when they saw the issue of
the war, gave up their faith in God, but not their faith in the cause."
To the young, or even the middle-aged, it has little meaning. I met a
scholar-soldier in the South who had given expression to the sentiment
of his race and generation in an essay--one might almost say an
elegy--so chivalrous in spirit and so fine in literary form that it
moved me well-nigh to tears. Reading it at a public library, I found
myself so visibly affected by it that my neighbour at the desk glanced
at me in surprise, and I had to pull myself sharply together.
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