THE GLORY OF GETTYSBURG
THE BATTLE
The Battle of Gettysburg, which raged through July 1st, 2nd and 3d,
1863, was called the "high water mark" of the Civil War, and one of the
"fifteen decisive battles" of history. It was decisive because General
Robert E. Lee, with his brave army, was driven back from Gettysburg,
Pennsylvania. If Lee had been victorious there, he might have destroyed
Philadelphia and New York. By such a brilliant stroke he could have
surrounded and captured Baltimore and Washington. This would have
changed the grand result of the war.
In point of numbers, bravery and genius, the battle of Gettysburg was
the greatest that had ever been fought up to that time. Glorious as this
was, the greatest glory of Gettysburg lay in the experiences and
utterances of one man, Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States
of America.
It came at a terrible time in the progress of the war, when everything
seemed to be going against the Union. There had been four disastrous
defeats--twice at Bull Run, followed by Fredericksburg and
Chancellorsville. Even the battle of Antietam, accounted victory enough
for the President to issue his Emancipation Proclamation, proved to be a
drawn battle, with terrific losses on both sides. Lee was driven back
from Maryland then, it is true, but he soon won the great battles of
Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, and had made his way north into
Pennsylvania.
The night after the battle of Chancellorsville (fought May 2nd and 3d,
1863), was the darkest in the history of the Civil War. President
Lincoln walked the floor the whole night long, crying out in his
anguish, "O what will the country say!"
To fill the decimated ranks of the army, the Government had resorted to
the draft, which roused great opposition in the North and provoked
foolish, unreasoning riots in New York City.
After winning the battle of Gettysburg, which the President hoped would
end the war, General Meade, instead of announcing that he had captured
the Confederate army, stated that he had "driven the invaders from our
soil." Mr. Lincoln fell on his knees and, covering his face with his
great, strong hands, cried out in tones of agony:
"'Driven the invaders from our soil!' My God, is that all?"
But Lincoln's spirits were bound to rise. Believing he was "on God's
side," he felt that the cause of Right could not lose, for the Lord
would save His own.
The next day, July 4th, 1863, came the surrender of Vicksburg, the
stronghold of the great West. Chastened joy began to cover his gaunt and
pallid features, and the light of hope shone again in his deep, gray
eyes.
Calling on General Sickles, in a Washington hospital--for the general
had lost a leg on the second day of the battle of Gettysburg--the
President was asked why he believed that victory would be given the
Federal forces at Gettysburg.
"I will tell you how it was. In the pinch of your campaign up there,
when everybody seemed panic-stricken, and nobody could tell what was
going to happen, I went to my room one day and locked the door, and got
down on my knees before Almighty God, and prayed to him mightily for
victory at Gettysburg. I told Him this was His war, and our cause His
cause, but that we couldn't stand another Fredericksburg or
Chancellorsville. And I then and there made a solemn vow to Almighty God
that if He would stand by our boys at Gettysburg, I would stand by Him.
And He _did_, and I _will_!"
The President's call on General Sickles was on the Sunday after the
three-days' battle of Gettysburg, before the arrival of the gunboat at
Cairo, Illinois, with the glad tidings from Vicksburg, which added new
luster to the patriotic joy of Independence Day. The telegraph wires had
been so generally cut on all sides of Vicksburg that the news was sent
to Cairo and telegraphed to Washington. In proof that his faith even
included the Mississippi blockade he went on:
"Besides, I have been praying over Vicksburg also, and believe our
Heavenly Father is going to give us victory there, too, because we need
it, in order to bisect the Confederacy, and let 'the Father of Waters
flow unvexed to the sea.'"
THE ADDRESS
Not long after the conflict at Gettysburg a movement was on foot to
devote a large part of that battle-ground to a national cemetery.
The Hon. Edward Everett, prominent in national and educational affairs,
and the greatest living orator, was invited to deliver the grand
oration. The President was asked, if he could, to come and make a few
dedicatory remarks, but Mr. Everett was to be the chief speaker of the
occasion.
The Sunday before the 19th of November, 1863, the date of the
dedication, the President went with his friend Noah Brooks to Gardner's
gallery, in Washington, where he had promised to sit for his photograph.
While there he showed Mr. Brooks a proof of Everett's oration which had
been sent to him. As this printed address covered two newspaper pages,
Mr. Lincoln struck an attitude and quoted from a speech by Daniel
Webster:
"Solid men of Boston, make no long orations!" and burst out laughing.
When Mr. Brooks asked about _his_ speech for that occasion, Mr. Lincoln
replied: "I've got it written, but not licked into shape yet. It's
short, _short_, SHORT!"
During the forenoon of the 18th, Secretary John Hay was anxious lest the
President be late for the special Presidential train, which was to leave
at noon for Gettysburg.
"Don't worry, John," said Mr. Lincoln. "I'm like the man who was going
to be hung, and saw the crowds pushing and hurrying past the cart in
which he was being taken to the place of execution. He called out to
them: 'Don't hurry, boys. There won't be anything going on till I get
there!'"
When the train stopped, on the way to Gettysburg, a little girl on the
platform held up a bouquet to Mr. Lincoln, lisping: "Flowerth for the
Prethident."
He reached out, took her up and kissed her, saying:
"You're a sweet little rosebud yourself. I hope your life will open into
perpetual beauty and goodness."
About noon on the 19th of November, the distinguished party arrived in a
procession and took seats on the platform erected for the exercises. The
President was seated in a rocking-chair placed there for him. There
were fifteen thousand people waiting, some of whom had been standing in
the sun for hours. It was a warm day and a Quaker woman near the
platform fainted. An alarm was given and the unconscious woman was in
danger of being crushed.
The President sprang to the edge of the staging and called out:
"Here, let me get hold of that lady."
With a firm, strong grasp he extricated her from the crush and seated
her in his rocking-chair. When that modest woman "came to," she saw
fifteen thousand pairs of eyes watching her while the President of the
United States was fanning her tenderly.
This was too much for her. She gasped:
"I feel--better--now. I want to go--back to--my husband!"
"Now, my dear lady," said Mr. Lincoln. "You are all right here. I had an
awful time pulling you up out of there, and I couldn't stick you back
again!"
A youth who stood near the platform in front of the President says that,
while Mr. Everett was orating, Mr. Lincoln took his "little speech," as
he called it, out of his pocket, and conned it over like a schoolboy
with a half-learned lesson. The President had put the finishing touches
on it that morning. As it was expected that the President would make a
few offhand remarks, no one seems to have noticed its simple grandeur
until it was printed in the newspapers.
Yet Mr. Lincoln was interrupted four or five times during the two
minutes by applause. The fact that the President was speaking was
sufficient, no matter what he said. The people would have applauded
Abraham Lincoln if he had merely recited the multiplication table! When
he finished, they gave "three times three cheers" for the President of
the United States, and three cheers for each of the State Governors
present.
That afternoon there was a patriotic service in one of the churches
which the President decided to attend. Taking Secretary Seward with him,
he called on an old cobbler named John Burns, of whose courage in the
battle of Gettysburg Mr. Lincoln had just heard. Those who planned the
dedication did not think the poor cobbler was of much account. The old
hero, now known through Bret Harte's poem, "John Burns of Gettysburg,"
had the pride and joy of having all the village and visitors see him
march to the church between President Lincoln and Secretary Seward. This
simple act was "just like Lincoln!" He honored Gettysburg in thus
honoring one of its humblest citizens. It was Abraham Lincoln's tribute
to the patriotism of the dear "common people" whom he said "God must
love."