Address at the opening of “Blue Post” Fair, North Topeka, February
15th, 1886.
COMRADES OF THE GRAND ARMY: In coming before you this evening, I do not
come with any expectation that I can say anything to interest or
instruct you. But when Comrade Arnold called on me, last Friday, he
supplemented his invitation with a statement that my acceptance would
promote the object for which this fair is held, and thus aid Blue Post
of the Grand Army of the Republic in securing a fund for the relief of
destitute and disabled soldiers. I could not resist such an appeal. I am
willing at all times to do what lies in my power for such a cause, and
so, busy as I am just now, I came to your festival to bid you Godspeed
in your noble work, and to give such assistance as I can in promoting
it.
It is sometimes asked why so many soldiers of the late war need help in
the battle of life, and why appeals in behalf of the survivors of the
Rebellion are growing more frequent as the years go by? Tens of
thousands of soldiers, it is said, are on the pension rolls of the
Government; the Nation has provided comfortable and pleasant homes for
thousands who are disabled and destitute; and why should the generosity
of the people be so frequently appealed to?
Those who ask these questions simply fail to comprehend either the
magnitude of the civil war, the vast number of men enlisted in the ranks
of the Union Army, the hardships or privations to which they were
exposed, the frightful legacy of wounds and disease their service
entailed, or the time that has elapsed since their final muster-out.
When these things are considered, the wonder will be, not that so many,
but that so few of the soldiers of the Union need the helpful sympathy
and assistance of their more fortunate comrades, and of all generous and
grateful people.
Nearly twenty-one years have come and gone since the war closed, and of
the 2,700,000 persons enlisted in the Union Army, probably a million
still survive. These men are all growing old. Few of them are under
forty years of age; the vast majority, perhaps, are over fifty; and very
many are nearing or past sixty years. Enfeebled by wounds or disease,
they are year by year less able to bear their part in the great battle
of life as bravely or as successfully as they did in the desperate
struggle to preserve the Republic.
It should not be forgotten that 224,306 soldiers were discharged from
the army because of wounds or disease, and that a far larger number,
mustered out in seeming good health, had contracted the seeds of disease
which will shorten their lives and enfeeble their powers. The Surgeon of
my regiment, a learned and experienced physician, once said to me that
there was not a man in the Army of the Cumberland who would not
ultimately suffer from the effects of the hardships, exposure and
privations to which that army was subject. Said he: “Two months of
semi-starvation in Chattanooga were followed by the cold and desolate
winter campaign in East Tennessee, and that by the alternating rain,
heat and fatigue of the campaign against Atlanta; and the strongest and
most healthy men in the regiment will some day suffer from the effects
of such service.”
Within a year I have read accounts of the death of fully a dozen
soldiers from the effects of wounds received nearly a quarter of a
century ago. About two years since a gallant officer of my own regiment
was confined to his bed for several weeks by the reopening of a wound
received at Chicamauga, in 1863. These are only isolated instances among
thousands, but they fairly illustrate the fact I wish to present, that
the effects of the war upon the physical powers of a vast multitude of
soldiers are just beginning to be felt.
I do not join, and never have joined, with those who assert that the
Government and the American people have forgotten the obligations they
are under to the men whose patriotism and valor preserved the Republic.
As a soldier and an American citizen, I am proud of the fact that this
assertion is not true. Occasionally, I know, there have been just
grounds of complaint; occasionally it has seemed that the war, and all
the noble sacrifices and splendid devotion of our soldiers were like an
old, old story, growing stale and uninteresting; and now and then
isolated cases can be cited to justify a charge of forgetfulness or
ingratitude. But the time has not been, and I trust it never will be,
when it can be truthfully said that any appeal in behalf of the
disabled, destitute and deserving soldiers of the Union would be
unheeded. As evidence of the truth of this statement, this fair, and
those held by the Grand Army Posts on the south side during the past
three weeks, and the generous patronage the people give to all of them,
may be cited.
There are now on the pension rolls of the United States the names of
over two hundred thousand soldiers, and over a hundred thousand
soldiers’ widows, and during the past twenty-two years the Government
has paid to pensioners over $750,000,000. It has provided National Homes
for nearly ten thousand disabled survivors of the war, and these are
being enlarged every year. Several States have built or are building
other homes; and the people, acting in their individual capacity, have
contributed millions of dollars to charities having for their object the
relief of disabled soldiers. In brief, no other Government, no other
people, in any age or country, has remembered and provided for its
defenders, and for the dependent relatives of the fallen, with such
abounding generosity.
But this liberality, this generous care for the survivors of the war,
must be continued for many years to come. The heroic men who periled
their own lives to save the life of the Republic, are, as I have said,
growing old, and every revolving year adds to the number of those who
are unable to support themselves or provide for their dependent
families. It is not right or just that any of these men should be
permitted to suffer the pangs of want. They offered all they had—health,
ambition, life itself, for the country. No saint or martyr ever gave
more than they. The Government, the people, can never repay them, but
they can do something to relieve their necessities, to protect them from
want, and to make their declining years happy with the thought that
their services are not forgotten. This is the noble purpose you have in
view in organizing this fair; this is the inspiration of those who
patronize it; and this, I am glad to believe, is a duty which the
American people will always willingly recognize and generously
discharge.