* At the Memorial Celebration of the Grand Army of the
Republic last evening the Academy of Music was filled to
overflowing, within a few minutes after the opening of the
doors.
Gen. Hancock was the first arrival of importance. The
Governor's Island band accepted this as a signal for the
overture. The Academy was tastefully decorated. The three
balconies were covered, the first with blue cloth, the
second with white and national bunting, studded with the
insignia of the original thirteen States, and the family
circle with red. Over the centre of the stage the national
flag and device hung suspended, and was held In its place by
flying streamers extending to the boxes. The latter were
draped with flags, relieved by antique armor and weapons--
shields, casques and battle axes and crossed swords and
pikes.
At 8.05 the curtain slowly rose, and discovered to the view
of the audience, a second audience reaching back to the
farthest depths of the scenes. These were the fortunate
holders of stage tickets, and comprised a great number of
distinguished men.
Among them were noticed Gen. Horace Porter, Gen. Lloyd
Aspinwall, Gen. Daniel Butterfield, Gen. D. D. Wylie, Gen.
Charles Roome, Gen. W. Palmer, Gen. John Cochrane, Gen. H.
G. Tremaine, the Hon. Edward Pierrepont, Dep't. Commander
James M. Fraser, the Hon. Carl Schurz, August Belmont, Henry
Clews, Dr. Lewis A. Sayre, Charles Scribner, Jesse Seligman,
William Dowa, Henry Bergh and George William Curtis. Gen.
Bamum came upon the stage followed by President Arthur,
Gen's. Grant and Hancock, Secretaries Folger and Brewster,
ex-Senator Roscoe Conkling, Mayor Grace and the Rev. J. P.
Newman. Gen. Hancock's brilliant uniform made him a very
conspicuous figure, and he served as a foil to the plain
evening dress of Gen. Grant, who was separated from him by
the portly form of the President.
Gen. James McQuade, the President of the day, rose and
uncovering a flag which draped a sort of patriotic altar in
front of him, announced that It was the genuine flag upon
which was written the famous order, "If any man pull down
the American flag, shoot him on the spot.' * This was the
signal for round after round of applause, while Gen. McQuade
waved this precious relic of the past. The time had now come
for the introduction of the orator of the evening, Col.
Robert G. Ingersoll. Col. Ingersoll stepped across the stage
to the reading desk, and was received with an ovation of
cheering and waving of handkerchiefs.
After the enthusiasm had somewhat abated, a gentleman in one
of the boxes shouted: "Three-cheers for Ingersoll."
These were given with a will, the excitement quieted down
and the orator spoke as follows '.--The New York Times. May
31st, 1883.
New York City.
1882.
THIS day is sacred to our heroes dead. Upon their tombs we have lovingly
laid the wealth of Spring.
This is a day for memory and tears. A mighty Nation bends above its
honored graves, and pays to noble dust the tribute of its love.
Gratitude is the fairest flower that sheds its perfume in the heart.
To-day we tell the history of our country's life--recount the lofty
deeds of vanished years--the toil and suffering, the defeats and
victories of heroic men,--of men who made our Nation great and free.
We see the first ships whose prows were gilded by the western sun. We
feel the thrill of discovery when the New World was found. We see the
oppressed, the serf, the peasant and the slave, men whose flesh had
known the chill of chains--the adventurous, the proud, the brave,
sailing an unknown sea, seeking homes in unknown lands. We see the
settlements, the little clearings, the blockhouse and the fort, the rude
and lonely huts. Brave men, true women, builders of homes, fellers of
forests, founders of States.
Separated from the Old World,--away from the heartless distinctions
of caste,--away from sceptres and titles and crowns, they governed
themselves. They defended their homes; they earned their bread. Each
citizen had a voice, and the little villages became republics. Slowly
the savage was driven back. The days and nights were filled with fear,
and the slow years with massacre and war, and cabins' earthen floors
were wet with blood of mothers and their babes.
But the savages of the New World were kinder than the kings and nobles
of the Old; and so the human tide kept coming, and the places of the
dead were filled. Amid common dangers and common hopes, the prejudiced
and feuds of Europe faded slowly from their hearts. From every land,
of every speech, driven by want and lured by hope, exiles and emigrants
sought the mysterious Continent of the West.
Year after year the colonists fought and toiled and suffered and
increased. They began to talk about liberty--to reason of the rights of
man. They * t asked no help from distant kings, and they began to doubt
the use of paying tribute to the useless. They lost respect for dukes
and lords, and held in high esteem all honest men. There was the dawn
of a new day. They began to dream of independence. They found that
they could make and execute the laws. They had tried the experiment of
self-government. They had succeeded. The Old World wished to dominate
the New. In the care and keeping of the colonists was the destiny of
this Continent--of half the world.
On this day the story of the great struggle between colonists and kings
should be told. We should tell our children of the contest--first
for justice, then for freedom. We should tell them the history of
the Declaration of Independence--the chart and compass of all human
rights:--All men are equal, and have the right to life, to liberty and
joy.
This Declaration uncrowned kings, and wrested from the hands of titled
tyranny the sceptre of usurped and arbitrary power. It superseded royal
grants, and repealed the cruel statutes of a thousand years. It gave the
peasant a career; it knighted all the sons of toil; it opened all the
paths to fame, and put the star of hope above the cradle of the poor
man's babe.
England was then the mightiest of nations--mistress of every sea--and
yet our fathers, poor and few, defied her power.
To-day we remember the defeats, the victories, the disasters, the weary
marches, the poverty, the hunger, the sufferings, the agonies, and above
all, the glories of the Revolution. We remember all--from Lexington to
Valley Forge, and from that midnight of despair to Yorktown's cloudless
day. We remember the soldiers and thinkers--the heroes of the sword and
pen. They had the brain and heart, the wisdom and courage to utter
and defend these words: "Governments derive their just powers from the
consent of the governed." In defence of this sublime and self-evident
truth the war was waged and won.
To-day we remember all the heroes, all the generous and chivalric men
who came from other lands to make ours free. Of the many thousands who
shared the gloom and glory of the seven sacred years, not one remains.
The last has mingled with the earth, and nearly all are sleeping now
in unmarked graves, and some beneath the leaning, crumbling stones from
which their names have been effaced by Time's irreverent and relentless
hands. But the Nation they founded remains. The United States are still
free and independent. The "government derives its just power from
the consent of the governed," and fifty millions of free people remember
with gratitude the heroes of the Revolution.
Let us be truthful; let us be kind. When peace came, when the
independence of a new Nation was acknowledged, the great truth for
which our fathers fought was half denied, and the Constitution was
inconsistent with the Declaration. The war was waged for liberty, and
yet the victors forged new fetters for their fellow-men. The chains our
fathers broke were put by them upon the limbs of others. "Freedom for
All" was the cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night, through seven
years of want and war. In peace the cloud was forgotten and the pillar
blazed unseen.
Let us be truthful; all our fathers were not true to themselves. In
war they had been generous, noble and self-sacrificing; with peace came
selfishness and greed. They were not great enough to appreciate the
grandeur of the principles for which they fought. They ceased to regard
the great truths as having universal application. "Liberty for
All" included only themselves. They qualified the Declaration. They
interpolated the word "white." They obliterated the word "All."
Let us be kind. We will remember the age in which they lived. We will
compare them with the citizens of other nations. They made merchandise
of men. They legalized a crime. They sowed the seeds of war. But they
founded this Nation.
Let us gratefully remember.
Let us gratefully forget.
To-day we remember the heroes of the second war with England, in which
our fathers fought for the freedom of the seas--for the rights of the
American sailor. We remember with pride the splendid victories of Erie
and Champlain and the wondrous achievements upon the sea--achievements
that covered our navy with a glory that neither the victories nor
defeats of the future can dim. We remember the heroic services and
sufferings of those who fought the merciless savage of the frontier.
We see the midnight massacre, and hear the war-cries of the allies of
England. We see the flames climb around the happy homes, and in the
charred and blackened ruins the mutilated bodies of wives and children.
Peace came at last, crowned with the victory of New Orleans--a victory
that "did redeem all sorrows" and all defeats.
The Revolution gave our fathers a free land--the War of 1812 a free sea.
To-day we remember the gallant men who bore our flag in triumph from the
Rio Grande to the heights of Chapultepec.
Leaving out of question the justice of our cause--the necessity for
war--we are yet compelled to applaud the marvelous courage of our
troops. A handful of men, brave, impetuous, determined, irresistible,
conquered a nation. Our history has no record of more daring deeds.
Again peace came, and the Nation hoped and thought that strife was at
an end. We had grown too powerful to be attacked. Our resources were
boundless, and the future seemed secure. The hardy pioneers moved to the
great West. Beneath their ringing strokes the forests disappeared, and
on the prairies waved the billowed seas of wheat and corn. The great
plains were crossed, the mountains were conquered, and the foot of
victorious adventure pressed the shore of the Pacific. In the great
North all the streams went singing to the sea, turning wheels and
spindles, and casting shuttles back and forth. Inventions were springing
like magic from a thousand brains. From Labor's holy altars rose and
leaped the smoke and flame, and from the countless forges ran the chant
of rhythmic stroke.
But in the South, the negro toiled unpaid, and mothers wept while babes
were sold, and at the auction-block husbands and wives speechlessly
looked the last good-bye. Fugitives, lighted by the Northern Star,
sought liberty on English soil, and were, by Northern men, thrust back
to whip and chain. The great statesmen, the successful politicians,
announced that law had compromised with crime, that justice had been
bribed, and that time had barred appeal. A race was left without a
right, without a hope. The future had no dawn, no star--nothing but
ignorance and fear, nothing but work and want. This, was the conclusion
of the statesmen, the philosophy of the politicians--of constitutional
expounders:--this was decided by courts and ratified by the Nation.
We had been successful in three wars. We had wrested thirteen colonies
from Great Britain. We had conquered our place upon the high seas. We
had added more than two millions of square miles to the national domain.
We had increased in population from three to thirty-one millions. We
were in the midst of plenty. We were rich and free. Ours appeared to
be the most prosperous of Nations. But it was only appearance. The
statesmen and the politicians were deceived. Real victories can be won
only for the Right. The triumph of Justice is the only Peace. Such is
the nature of things. He who enslaves another cannot be free. He who
attacks the right, assaults himself. The mistake our fathers made had
not been corrected. The foundations of the Republic were insecure. The
great dome of the temple was clad in the light of prosperity, but
the corner-stones were crumbling. Four millions of human beings were
enslaved. Party cries had been mistaken for principles--partisanship
for patriotism--success for justice.
But Pity pointed to the scarred and bleeding backs of slaves; Mercy
heard the sobs of mothers reft of babes, and Justice held aloft the
scales, in which one drop of blood shed by a master's lash, outweighed a
Nation's gold. There were a few men, a few women, who had the courage to
attack this monstrous crime. They found it entrenched in constitutions,
statutes, and decisions--barricaded and bastioned by every department
and by every party. Politicians were its servants, statesmen its
attorneys, judges its menials, presidents its puppets, and upon its
cruel altar had been sacrificed our country's honor. It was the crime of
the Nation--of the whole country--North and South responsible alike.
To-day we reverently thank the abolitionists. Earth has no grander
men--no nobler women. They were the real philanthropists, the true
patriots. When the will defies fear, when the heart applauds the
brain, when duty throws the gauntlet down to fate, when honor scorns to
compromise with death,--this is heroism. The abolitionists were heroes.
He loves his country best who strives to make it best. The bravest men
are those who have the greatest fear of doing wrong. Mere politicians
wish the country to do something for them. True patriots desire to do
something for their country. Courage without conscience is a wild beast.
Patriotism without principle is the prejudice of birth, the animal
attachment to place. These men, these women, had courage and conscience,
patriotism and principle, heart and brain.
The South relied upon the bond,--upon a barbarous clause that stained,
disfigured and defiled the Federal pact, and made the monstrous claim
that slavery was the Nation's ward. The spot of shame grew red in
Northern cheeks, and Northern men declared that slavery had poisoned,
cursed and blighted soul and soil enough, and that the Territories must
be free. The radicals of the South cried: "No Union without Slavery!"
The radicals of the North replied: "No Union without Liberty!" The
Northern radicals were right. Upon the great issue of free homes for
free men, a President was elected by the free States. The South appealed
to the sword, and raised the standard of revolt. For the first time in
history the oppressors rebelled.
But let us to-day be great enough to forget individuals,--great enough
to know that slavery was treason, that slavery was rebellion, that
slavery fired upon our flag and sought to wreck and strand the mighty
ship that bears the hope and fortune of this world. The first shot
liberated the North. Constitution, statutes and decisions, compromises,
platforms, and resolutions made, passed, and ratified in the interest of
slavery became mere legal lies, base and baseless. Parchment and paper
could no longer stop or stay the onward march of man. The North was
free. Millions instantly resolved that the Nation should not die--that
Freedom should not perish, and that Slavery should not live.
Millions of our brothers, our sons, our fathers, our husbands, answered
to the Nation's call.
The great armies have desolated the earth. The greatest soldiers have
been ambition's dupes. They waged war for the sake of place and pillage,
pomp and power,--for the ignorant applause of vulgar millions,--for the
flattery of parasites, and the adulation of sycophants and slaves.
Let us proudly remember that in our time the greatest, the grandest, the
noblest army of the world fought, not to enslave, but to free; not to
destroy, but to save; not for conquest, but for conscience; not only for
us, but for every land and every race.
With courage, with enthusiasm, with a devotion' never excelled, with an
exaltation and purity of purpose never equaled, this grand army fought
the battles of the Republic. For the preservation of this Nation, for
the destruction of slavery, these soldiers, these sailors, on land and
sea, disheartened by no defeat, discouraged by no obstacle, appalled by
no danger, neither paused nor swerved until a stainless flag, without
a rival, floated over all our wide domain, and until every human being
beneath its folds was absolutely free.
The great victory for human rights--the greatest of all the years--had
been won; won by the Union men of the North, by the Union men of the
South, and by those who had been slaves. Liberty was national, Slavery
was dead.
The flag for which the heroes fought, for which they died, is the symbol
of all we are, of all we hope to be.
It is the emblem of equal rights.
It means free hands, free lips, self-government and the sovereignty of
the individual.
It means that this continent has been dedicated to freedom.
It means universal education,--light for every mind, knowledge for every
child.
It means that the schoolhouse is the fortress of Liberty.
It means that "Governments derive their just powers from the consent of
the governed;" that each man is accountable to and for the Government;
that responsibility goes hand in hand with liberty.
It means that it is the duty of every citizen to bear his share of the
public burden,--to take part in the affairs of his town, his county, his
State and his country.
It means that the ballot-box is the Ark of the Covenant; that the source
of authority must not be poisoned.
It means the perpetual right of peaceful revolution. It means that every
citizen of the Republic--native or naturalized--must be protected; at
home, in every State,--abroad, in every land, on every sea.
It means that all distinctions based on birth or blood, have perished
from our laws; that our Government shall stand between labor and
capital, between the weak and the strong, between the individual and the
corporation, between want and wealth, and give the guarantee of simple
justice to each and all.
It means that there shall be a legal remedy for every wrong.
It means national hospitality,--that we must welcome to our shores the
exiles of the world, and that we may not drive them back. Some may
be deformed by labor, dwarfed by hunger, broken in spirit, victims of
tyranny and caste,--in whose sad faces may be read the touching record
of a weary life; and yet their children, born of liberty and love, will
be symmetrical and fair, intelligent and free.
That flag is the emblem of a supreme will--of a Nation's power. Beneath
its folds the weakest must be protected and the strongest must obey. It
shields and canopies alike the loftiest mansion and the rudest hut.
That flag was given to the air in the Revolution's darkest days. It
represents the sufferings of the past, the glories yet to be; and like
the bow of heaven, it is the child of storm and sun.
This day is sacred to the great heroic host who kept this flag above
our heads,--sacred to the living and the dead--sacred to the scarred and
maimed,--sacred to the wives who gave their husbands, to the mothers who
gave their sons.
Here in this peaceful land of ours,--here where the sun shines, where
flowers grow, where children play, millions of armed men battled for the
right and breasted on a thousand fields the iron storms of war.
These brave, these incomparable men, founded the first Republic. They
fulfilled the prophecies; they brought to pass the dreams; they realized
the hopes, that all the great and good and wise and just have made and
had since man was man.
But what of those who fell? There is no language to express the debt we
owe, the love we bear, to all the dead who died for us. Words are but
barren sounds. We can but stand beside their graves and in the hush and
silence feel what speech has never told.
They fought, they died; and for the first time since man has kept a
record of events, the heavens bent above and domed a land without a
serf, a servant or a slave.