Manual of Patriotism
THE FLAG HALLOWS MEMORIAL DAY.
Prologue.
GENERAL GRANT AND THE CIVIL wAR,
Song, See, the Conqu'ring Hero Comes.
ADMIRAL DEWEY AND THE SPANISH wAR,
Song, Dewey at Manila Bay.
In Memoriam—May 30th.
SELECTIONS ...Song, Song for Memorial Day.
SELECTIONS ...Song, The Heroes' Greeting.
SELECTIONS ...Song, In Memoriam.
SELECTIONS ..Song, Remembered.
The name of Ulysses S. Grant is forever linked in history with the Civil War, waged between the North and the South from 1861 to 1865. Many a general and officer and thousands upon thousands of private soldiers, on both sides, fought with indescribable bravery. But it remained for General Grant to bring the war to an end by the surrender of Robert E. Lee, commander-in-chief of the Southern army, at Appomattox Courthouse, April 9, 1865. Grant was often charged with cruelty and even with indifference as to the number of his soldiers killed in battle. But this is not true. The sacrifice of human life in the fierce battles that he fought was great, but it was necessary. And when the “cruel war” was over and peace really came to a sorrowing land, sore-stricken in every part, no man in all the nation was kinder than he to the conquered foe, as they surrendered on the last battlefield of the war, nor more compassionate afterwards to the whole people of the desolated and impoverished South. To show such kindness and compassion he had indeed a rare opportunity, as President of the United States for two terms. In this great office he was vexed, perplexed and troubled by many problems of Reconstruction such as no other President had ever known; but throughout all he was patient, though firm, and loyal to the last degree to what he believed to be the good of the whole people. No wonder that New York, the greatest city of the Empire State, and the metropolis of the land, asked that the hero and statesman might repose within its borders. And so was built the “Tomb of General Grant” at Riverside, in Greater New York. (If time permits, a sketch of Grant's boyhood and youth, stories from his Autobiography, and a description of the famous “Tomb” would prove of very great interest, conveying much information on heroic patriotism.)
It was on Decoration Day, in the city of New York, the last one he ever saw on earth. That morning, the members of the Grand Armyof the Republic, the veterans in tha:t vicinity, rose earlier than was their wont. They seemed to spend more time that morning in unfurling the old battle-flags, in burnishing the medals of honor which decorated their breasts, for on that day they had determined to march by the house of their dying commander, to give him a last marching salute. In the streets, the columns were formed; inside the house, on that bed from which he never was to rise again, lay the strick n chief. The hand which had seized the surrendered sword of countless thousands could scarcely return the pressure of the friendiy grasp.
That voice that had cheered on to triumphant victory the allegiance of America's manhood, could no longer call for the cooling draught which slaked the thirst of a fevered tongue, and prostrate on that bed of anguish lay the form which, in the New World, had ridden at the head of the conquering column—which, in the Old World, had been deemed worthy to stand with head covered and with feet sandaled in the presence of princes, kings and emperors. In the street his ear caught the sound of martial music. Bands were playing the same strains which had echoed his guns a:t Vicksburg, the same quick-steps to which his men sped in hot haste when pursuing Lee through Virg1ma. And then came the heavy, measured step of moving columns, a step which can be acquired only by years of service in the field. He recognized it all now. It was the tread of his old veterans. With his little remaining strength, he arose, and dragged himself to the window. He gazed upon those battle-flags dipped to him in salute, those precious standards, bullet-riddled, battle-stained, but remnants of their former service, with scarcely enough left of them on which to print the names of the battles. They had seen his eyes once more light with the flames that had enkindled them at Shiloh, at the heights of Chattanooga, amid the glories of Appomattox, and as those war-scarred veterans looked, with uncovered heads and upturned faces, for the last time upon the pallid features of their old chief, the cheeks which had been bronzed with Southern suns, and begrimed with powder, were bathed in the tears of manly grief. Soon they saw rising the hand which had so often pointed out to them the path of victory. He raised it slowly and painfully to his head in recognition of their salutation. When the column had passed, the hand fell heavily by his side. It was his last military salute.—Horace Porter.
When his work was done, this man of blood was as tender toward his late adversaries as a woman towards a son! He imposed no humiliating conditions, spared the feelings of his antagonists, sent home the disbanded Southern men with food and horses for working their crops, and when a revengeful spirit in the executive chair showed itself and threatened the chief Southern generals, Grant, with a holy indignation, interposed himself, and compelled his superior to relinquish his rash purpose.
A man he was, without vices, with an absolute hatred of lies, and an eradicable love of truth, of a perfect loyalty to friendship, neither envious of others nor selfish of himself. With a zeal for the public good unfeigned, he has left to memory only such weaknesses as connect him with humanity, and such virtues as will rank him among heroes.
The tidings of his death, long expected, gave a shock to the whole world. Governments, rulers, eminent statesmen, and scholars from all civilized nations, gave sincere tokens of sympathy. For the hour, sympathy rolled as a wave over the whole land. It closed the last furrow of war; it extinguished the last prejudice; it effaced the last vestige of hatred; and cursed be the hand that shall bring them back!
Johnston and Buckner on one side of his bier, and Sherman and Sheridan upon the other, he has come to his tomb,—a silent symbol that liberty had conqured slavery, and peace war.
He rests in peace! No drum nor cannon shall disturb his slumber!
Sleep, hero, sleep, until another trumpet shall shake the heavens and the earth! Then come forth to glory and immortality.—Henry Ward Beecher.
W.K.W. G. F. HANDEL.
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(New York, March 30, 1885.)
General Sheridan, in reply to a request for his opinion of General Grant as a commander, recently said: “He was a far greater man than people thought him to be. He was able, no matter how situated, to do more than was expected of him. That has always been my opinion of General Grant. I have the greatest admiration for him, both as a man and as a commander.”
General Sherman, having been asked why he and Sheridan always acknowledged the leadership of Grant, replied: “Because, while I could map out a dozen plans for a campaign, every one of which Sheridan would declare he could fight out to victory, neither he nor I could tell which of the plans was the best one; but Grant, who simply sat and listened and smoked while we had been talking over the maps, would, at the end of our talking, tell us which was the best plan, and, in a dozen or two words, the reason of his decision, and then it would all be so clear to us that he was right that Sheridan and I would look at each other and wonder why we hadn't seen the advantage of it ourselves. I tell you, Grant is not appreciated yet. The military critics of Europe are too ignorant of American geography to appreciate the conditions of his campaigns. I have seen Grant plan campaigns for 500,000 troops along a front line 2,500 miles in length, and send them marching to their objective points, through sections where the surveyor's chain was never drawn, and where the commissariat necessities alone would have broken down any transportation system of Europe; and three months later I have seen those armies standing where he said they should be, and what he planned accomplished; and I give it as my military opinion that General Grant is the greatest commander of modern times, and with him only three others can stand-Napoleon, Wellington and Moltke.”
The name of George Dewey, in every part of our country, is “a household word.” He stands forth as the best known American who fought in what is known as “The Spanish-American War.” There may be a great many young pupils in our common schools who do not know just what that war was, or just why it was fought,—but it would be difficult to find one, beyond the primary grades, who has not heard of Admiral Dewey, the great sailor, and how he sailed with his ships over mines and torpedoes and sunken vessels, straight into the harbor of Manila, and on May 1, 1898, without the loss of a man or a gun or a ship, won the greatest naval victory, in many respects, ever achieved by man. And when, in the autumn of 1899, the famous sailor came to this country, he received no warmer welcome, no finer tribute to his glory, than that given him by the school children of Greater New York, a welcome that was renewed and prolonged by the boys and girls of Vermont when the Admiral returned, after many years of sea-life, to his birth-place and boyhood's home in the “Green Mountain State.” Is it not right, then, for all the boys and girls of the Empire State to have a part in the celebration which their schoolfellows in Greater New York began? Yes, surely. But the wise teacher will not fail to seize the opportunity to give to his school—to each and every pupil—the best idea possible of the cause of the brief war,—of the valor of our soldiers and sailors—of the fight at Santiago—the battle at San Juan and the bravery there displayed by regulars and volunteers, and by the “Rough Riders” under the leadership of the patriot and soldier who is now the Governor of New York, Theodore Roosevelt—the meaning of the “Dewey Arch” erected in Greater New York,—and, above all, to make clear and strong the lesson taught Spain by this country, that oppression and tyranny, as that of Cuba by Spain, must cease,—that Freedom is the privilege of all mankind.
Sure of the right, keeping free from all offense ourselves, actuated only by upright and patriotic considerations, moved neither by passion nor selfishness, the Government will continue its watchful care over the rights and property of American citizens, and will abate none of its efforts to bring about by peaceful agencies a peace which shall be honorable and enduring. If i:t shall hereafter appear to be a duty . imposed by our obligations to ourselves, to civilization and humanity, to intervene with force, it shall be without fault on our part, and only because the necessity for such action will be so clear as to command the support and approval of the civilized world.—President McKinley, from Message to Congress, December, 1897.
On the morning of February 16th came the news that on the previous evening the battle-ship Maine had been blown up and totally destroyed in the harbor of Havana. This gigantic murder of sleeping men, in the fancied security of a friendly harbor, was the direct outcome and the perfect expression of Spanish rule, and the appropriate action of a corrupt system struggling in its last agony. At last the unsettled question had come home to the United States, and it spoke in awful tones, which rang loud and could not be silenced. A wave of swift, fierce wrath swept over the American people. But a word was needed, and war would have come then in response to this foul and treacherous act of war, for such, in truth, it was. But the words of Captain Sigsbee, the commander of the Maine, whose coolness, self restraint, and high courage were beyond praise, asking, even in the midst of the slaughter, that judgment should be suspended, were heeded alike by government and people.—Henry Cabot Lodge.
The long trial has proved that the object for which Spain has waged the war cannot be attained. The fire of insurrection may flame or may smoulder with varying seasons, but it has not been and it is plain that it cannot be extinguished by present methods. The only hope of relief and repose from a condition which can no longer be endured is the enforced pacification of Cuba. In the name of hµmanity, in the name of civilization, in behalf of endangered American interests, which give us the right and the duty to speak and to act, the war in Cuba must stop. The issue is now with the Congress. It is a solemn responsibility. I have exhausted every effort to relieve the intolerable condition of affairs which is at our doors. Prepared to execute every obligation imposed upon me by the constitution and the law, I await your action.—President McKinley, from Message to Congress, April 11, 1898.
On the 24th of April, I directed the Secretary of the Navy to telegraph orders to Commodore George Dewey, of the United States Navy, commanding the Asiatic Squadron, then lying in the port of Hong Kong, to proceed forthwith to the Philippine Islands, there to commence operations and engage the assembled Spanish fleet. Promptly obeying that order, the United States squadron entered the harbor of Manila at daybreak on the first of May and immediately engaged the entire Spanish fleet of eleven ships, which were under the protection of the fire of the land forts. After a stubborn fight, in which the enemy suffered great loss, their vessels were destroyed or completely disabled, and the water battery at Cavite silenced. Of our brave officers and men, not one was lost, and only eight injured, and those slightly. All of our ships escaped any serious damage. * * * The magnitude of this victory can hardly be measured by the ordinary standards of naval warfare. Outweighing any material advantage is the moral effect of this initial success. At this unsurpassed achievement, the great heart of our nation throbs, not with boasting or with greed of conquest, but with deep gratitude that this triumph has come in a just cause, and that by the grace of God an effective step has thus been taken toward the attainment of the wished-for peace. To those whose skill, courage, and devotion have won the fight, to the gallant commander, and the brave officers and men who aided him, our country owes an incalculable debt.—President McKinley, from Message to Congress, May 9, 1898.
—
“Capture or destroy the Spanish fleet at Manila.” Such was the purport of President McKinley's order to Commodore George Dewey, commanding the American squadron in Asiatic waters; and right nobly did he carry out his instructions. Anchored in the harbor of a friendly power, he was informed that by the laws of neutrality he must put to sea. Six thousand miles from home, with no base of supplies, there were but two things for the intrepid commander to do: He must seek in flight the safety of our own shores, or he must fight against over-whelming odds. He did not hesitate; but chose the latter alternative as if there were no other.
How the haughty Spaniards sneered at his pretensions! Why should they, with a fleet superior in numbers, protected by the great guns of their forts, fear the “Yankee pigs “?—the commercials who could not fight? They were soon to le.am another lesson. On the evening of April 30, the order to advance to action was given. And, under cover of the darkness, our majestic ships, with lights extin• guished, crept slowly, like tigers of the jungle, through the mine-protected channel, past the forts up to the very teeth of the Spaniards. When the morning of the first of May broke over the peaceful Oriental sea, it saw the despised American in the very fangs of her proud enemy.
What a charming scene! The great ships heaving on the bosom of the placid bay, like graceful swans. The sleeping city, quiet in the distant haze. The gaily plumaged tropical bird calling .to its mate in a neighboring palm. The pennants of the forts lazily flapping on their supporting poles.
The scene changes, and the heavenly peace of nature gives place to the hell of war l The great guns of our ships belch forth their wrath of fire and steel. The Spanish ships and forts reply. Soon, chaos and destruction reign. Shells shriek through the quivering air. The peaceful sea has become a volcano from seething shot and bursting shell [ The startled Spaniards had not expected such an onslaught. Surely this foe can fight!
The Spanish flag-ship is on fire! The flag is bravely transferred to another; but that too is soon disabled. Frantically the iron hail is poured from fort and ship; but it glances from our steel sides or falls harmlessly into the sea. Slowly our great ships move on, firing with unerring aim as if at target practice. Three times they move around the deadly curve and the last Spanish ship is burned or sunk; the forts on shore are a mass of ruins. The victory is won, and not an American has been killed, not a ship seriously injured. Does our hero exult? Not he. He sends a message to the Spanish admiral commending his bravery and offering to care for his wounded sailors.
Days of suspense follow. There are rumors that Dewey has been victorious, followed by others of a less reassuring nature. Spanish dispatches claim a victory; but singularly omit to mention American losses. Then comes a report that Dewey has been trapped; and the whole nation is anxious; but not a word of censure is heard. Those who know Commander Dewey say, “Do not fear, he is a quiet man; but when he fights, he fights hard.”
At last authentic news is received; and all the world wonders. Men recall to mind the achievements of Nelson, when he defeated the combined fleets of France and Spain ninety-three years ago.
The authorities at Washington promptly make him an admiral and vote him a sword.
A new star is added to the already brilliant galaxy of American naval heroes; and to the names of Paul Jones, Decatur, Hull, Lawrence, Perry, and Farragut, is added George Dewey. The civilized world is amazed. Men recall the great feats of the past; but history reveals nothing like this. A whole fleet, supported by shore batteries, destroyed without the loss of a single man on the victorious squadron.
The new warships have been tried, and the product of modern thought has triumphed.
The nations awake to the fact that a new power has nsen with which they must reckon. This young giant has struck his first blow in the very cradle of the race, in the stronghold of despotism and tyranny; and that blow was struck in the name of liberty. Hope revives in the hearts of the down-trodden millions. Liberty is no longer a dream, a sentiment. It has a champion who makes it an assured fact.
And with the dawning of the new century come prophetic murmurings, never heard before, that the great race, speaking one tongue, that has carried light to the dark places of the earth, shall be united, and carry law, and liberty, and justice to all the world.—John D. Wilson.
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MEMORJ.AL DAY.
HIS national holiday was at first called “Decoration Day” because of the custom of decorating the graves of Union soldiers on that day. But now it bears the sweeter and more sacred name of Memorial Day,—because of the calling to remembrance then, in a special and public way,
the brave men and brave deeds of the terrible Civil War of 1861. We Americans ought to regard the thirtieth of May, each year, as an Holy Day, rather than a mere amusement holiday. Alas! it is fast becoming a day for sports and games, and out-door spectacles. And yet, it can never become wholly that, as long as there remains on earth a single soldier of the Grand Army of the Republic. For to him will be present on each Sabbath Day of the Nation the thought of the mighty conflict, with its pa:triotic spirit, its heroic deeds, its loyal “Boys in Blue,”—all indeed that made that conflict so memorable; and his trembling hands will still seek to strew flowers of remembrance upon the graves of his former companions-in-arms. So, let a like spirit of loyalty and patriotism animate the soul of every one of the thousands of G. A. R. Veterans still living. Let every teacher, in his or her place, seek to instill into the mind of every pupil a knowledge of the great events and actors in the war-drama; better still, an idea of the meaning of the war, its triumphant issue in a restored Union and an emancipated race—and best of all, a sentiment in every youthful heart of ever-enkindling, ever-growing love for this dear “Country of Ours!”
Probably there is not a school district in the State in which there is not at least one veteran of the Civil War. And the one best way to keep Memorial Day in school. will be to invite him, as the guest of honor, to tell his story of the war. If a G. A. R. “post” is in the neighborhood, summon its members to your memorial service and let some of them speak for all. If any soldier or sailor of the recent war with Spain is nigh at hand, ask him to be present and speak. He will be heard giving the meed of praise and honor to the men of '61 for their unparalleled devotion to the Union,—andthey, The Fathers, will testify in turn to the patriotic spirit which led The Sons to beat down tyranny and lift the Cuban to the joys of Freedom. Do not fear that such a service will celebrate the glories of war, and so create·a warlike spirit in youthful hearts; no, for it commemorates, rather, the sorrowful and heart-aching phases of strife. Nor fear that the keeping of such a day will stir up a spirit of bitterness against the conquered South; no, that has died away by the healing effects of time, by the thought of a common origin and common destiny of all the states in the Union. The South as well as the North keeps its Memorial Day-for sorrow for the dead, as Washington Irving has told us, is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be separated. But in recent years—on platforms, in burial-grounds, wherever and however Memorial Day has been kept,—the “Boys in Blue” and the “Boys in Gray” have met and each borne testimony to the valor and honor of the other. If the teacher of a school cannot arrange for an exercise in the school, at least see to it that the boys and girls have a part in any commemoration arranged by a G. A. R. post or committee. And whether in school, in public hall or assembly, at a cemetery—wherever Memorial Day is kept,—let it be understood and impressed that it is always the mission of Right and Duty to declare and carry on war, whenever the Union is in peril, or the cause of Freedom demands the sacrifice.
SONG FOR MEMORIAL DAY.
FRIEDRICH SILCHER.
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The light that shines from a patriot's grave is a pure and holy light.—Homer Everett.
Let us scatter over their graves the brightest beauties of life— the glad tokens of a blessed immortality.—George S. Mitchell.
There is a shrine in the temple of ages where lies, forever embalmed, the memories of such as have deserved well of their country and their race.—John Mason Brown.
So long as the glorious flag for which they died waves over our reunited country, will each recurring spring see fresh laurels on the graves of our country's dead.—Anon.
Our Country's Gallant Dead—Our country's soil gives them all sepulture. They sleep beneath the Stripes and Stars.— Joseph H. Twitchell.
They have not died in vain. The great hope that inspired and armed them has been realized how gloriously! They saved their country—they and such as they.—George Putnam (adapted).
Invoke all to heed well the lesson of Decoration Day, to weave each year a fresh garland for the grave of some hero and to rebuke any and all who talk of civil war, save as the “last dread tribunal of kings and peoples.”—Gen. William T. Sherman (adapted).
In the field of Gettysburg, as we now behold it, the blue and the gray blending in happy harmony, like the mingling hues of the summer landscape, we may see the radiant symbol of the triumphant America of our pride, our hope and our joy.—George William Curtis.
Every act of noble sacrifice to the country, every instance of patriotic devotion to her cause has its beneficial influence. A nation's character is the sum of its splendid deeds; they constitute our common patrimony, the nation's inheritance.—Henry Clay.
All the great and good shall live in the heart of ages, while marble and bronze shall endure, and when marble and bronze have perished, they shall “still live” in memory so long as men shall reverence law and honor patriotism and love liberty.Edward Everett.
“Dead on the field of honor!” This is the record of thousands of unnamed men, whose influence upon other generations is associated with no personal distinction, but whose sacrifice will lend undying lustre to the nation's archives, and richer capacity to the national life.—E. A. Chapin.
Those who fought against us, are now of us and with us reverently acknowledge that above all the desires of men move the majestic laws of God, evolving alike from victory or defeat of nations, a substantial good for all His children.—Gen. George A. Sheridan.
We join you in setting apart this land as an undying monument of peace, brotherhood, and perpetual Union. We unite in the solemn consecration of these hallowed hills as a holy, eternal pledge of fidelity to the life, freedom and unity of this cherished Republic.—Gen. John B. Gordon, Address on behalf of Confederate veterans, Gettysburg, Pa., July 3, 1888.
By the homely traditions of the fireside, by the headstones in the churchyard consecrated to those whose forms repose far off in rude graves, or sleep beneath the sea, embalmed in the memory of succeeding generations of parents and children, the heroic dead will live on in immortal youth.—Governor Andrew, of Massachusetts.
Today it is the highest duty of all, no matter on what side they were, but above all of those who have struggled for the preservation of the Union, to strive that it become one of generous confidence in which all the States shall, as of old, stand shoulder to shoulder, if need be, against the world in arms.—Ex-Attorney-General Charles Devens.
Your marches, sieges, and battles, in distance, duration, resolution, and brilliancy of results, dim the luster of the world's past military achievements, and will be the patriot's precedent in defense of liberty and right in all time to come. In obedience to your country's call, you left your homes and families, and volunteered in her defense. Victory has crowned your valor, and secured the purpose of your patriotic hearts; and with the gratitude of your countrymen, and the highest honors a great and free nation can accord, you will soon be permitted to return to your homes and families, conscious of having discharged the highest duties of American citizens.—Ulysses S. Grant (from his farewell to the Union Army).
The soldiers of the Republic were not seekers after vulgar glory. They were not animated by the hope of plunder or the love of conquest. They fought to preserve the blessings of liberty and that their children might have peace. They were the defenders of humanity, the destroyers of prejudice, the breakers of chains, and in the name of the future they slew th,e monster of their time. All honor to the Brave! They kept our country on the map of the world, and our flag in heaven. The soldiers of the Republic finished what the soldiers of the Revolution commenced. They relighted the torch that fell from their august hands and filled the world again with light.—Robert G. Ingersoll.
Grander than the Greek, nobler than the Roman, the soldiers of the Republic, with patriotism as taintless as the air, battled for the rights of others; for the nobility of labor; fought that mothers might own their babes; that arrogant idleness should not scar the back of patient toil; and that our country should not be a many-headed monster made of warring states, but a nation, sovereign, grand, and free. Blood was water, money, leaves, and life was common air until one flag floated over a Republic, without a master and without a slave. The soldiers of the Union saved the South as well as the North. They made us a nation. Their victory made us free and rendered tyranny in every other land as insecure as snow upon volcano lips. They rolled the stone from the sepulchre of progress, and found therein two angels clad in shining garments—Nationality and Liberty.—Robert G. Ingersoll.
I share with you all the pleasure and gratitude which Americans should feel on this anniversary (July 4). But I must dissent from one remark to the effect that I saved the country during the war. If our country could be saved or ruined by the efforts of one man, we should not have a country. If I had never held command, if I had fallen, if all our generals had fallen, there were ten thousand behind who would have done our work just as well, and who would have followed the contest to the end and never surrendered the Union. We should have been unworthy of our country and of the American name if we had not made every sacrifice to save the Union.—Ulysses S. Grant.
Sometimes in passing along the street, I meet a man who, in the left lapel of his coat, wears a little, plain, modest, unassuming bronze button. The coat is often old and rusty; the face above, seamed and furrowed by the toil and suffering of adverse years; perhaps beside it hangs an empty sleeve, and below it stumps a wooden peg. But when I meet the man who wears that button, I doff my hat and stand uncovered in his presence—yea! to me the very dust his weary feet ·has pressed is holy ground; for I know that man, in the dark hour of the nation's peril, bared his breast to the hell of battle to keep the flag of our country in the Union sky.
May be at Donelson, he reached the inner trench; at Shiloh, held the broken line; at Chattanooga, climbed the flame-swept hill; or stormed the clouds on Lookout Heights. He was not born or bred to soldier life. His country's summons called him from the plow, the bench, the forge, the loom, the mine, the store, the office, the college, the sanctuary. He did not fight for greed of gold, to find adventure, or to win renown. He loved the peace of quiet ways; and yet he broke the clasp of clinging arms, turned from the witching glance of tender eyes, left good-bye kisses on tiny lips, to look death in the face on desperate fields. And when the war was over, he quietly took up the broken threads of love and life as best he could, a better citizen for having been so good a soldier.—Jolm H. Thurston.
The Minute Man of the Revolution! And who was he? He Was the husband and father, who left the plough in the furrow, the hammer on the bench, and kissing his wife and children, marched to die or to be free. The Minute Man of the Revolution! He was the old, the middle-aged, the young. He was Captain Miles of Acton, who reproved his men for jesting on the march! He was Deacon Josiah Haines, of Sudbury, eighty years old, who marched with his company to South Bridge, at Concord, then joined in that hot pursuit to Lexington, and fell as gloriously as Warren at Bunker Hill. This was the Minute Man of the Revolution! The rural citizen, trained in the common school, the town-meeting, who carried a bayonet that thought, and whose gun, loaded with a principle, brought down, not a man, but a system. Intrenched in his own honesty, the king's gold could not buy him; enthroned in the love of his fellow-citizens, the king's writ could not take him; and when, on the morning at Lexington, the king's troops marched to seize him, his sublime faith saw, beyond the clouds of the moment, the rising sun of the America we behold, and careless of himself, mindful only of his country, he exultingly exclaimed: “Oh! What a glorious morning!”—George William Curtis.
All honor to the Army of the United States. Truly is its muster roll shorter than the list of its achievements. Yet amid all strictures, cavil, and carping it has a place well earned and warm in the heart of this people, for its generals have never sought to be dictators, nor its regiments pretorian guards, and with them the safety of the country and the liberties of the people are secure. • And long, long may it be so!—William E. Furness.
Every mountain and hill shall ha;e its treasured name, every iiver shall keep some solemn title, every valley and every lake shall cherish its honored register; and till the mountains are worn out and the rivers forget to flow, till the clouds are weary of replenishing springs, and the springs forget to gush, and the rills to sing, shall their names be kept fresh with reverent honors which are inscribed upon the book of National Remembrance.—H. W. Beecher.
THE HEROES' GREETING.
CHARLES E. BOYD.
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From “Cecilian Series/' published by SILVER, BuRDBTT & Co.
THE HEROES' GREETING.
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No nobler emotion can fill the breast of any man than that which prompts him to utter honest praise of an adversary whose convictions and opinions are at war with his own; and where is there a Confederate soldier in our land who has not felt a thrill of generous admiration and applause for the pre-eminent heroism of the gallant Federal admiral who lashed himself to the mainmast, while the tattered sails and frayed cordage of his vessel were being shot away by piecemeal above his head, and slowly but surely picked his way through sunken reefs of torpedoes, whose destructive powers consigned many of his luckless comrades to watery graves? The fame of such men as Farragut, Stanley, Hood, and Lee, and the hundreds of private soldiers, who were the true heroes of the war, belongs to no clime or section, but 1s the common property of mankind. They were all cast in the same grand mould of self-sacrificing patriotism, and I intend to teach my children to revere their names as long as the love of country is respected as a noble sentiment in the human breast.—Lawrence Sullivan Ross.
As to the kind of preparation which sound policy dictates, the navy, most certainly, in any point of view, occupies the first place. It is the safest, most effectual, and cheapest mode of defense. If the force be the safest and most efficient, which is at the sa..111e time the cheapest, on that should be our principal reliance. We have heard much of the danger of standing armies to our liberties. The objection cannot be made to the navy. Generals, it must be acknowledged, have often advanced at the head of armies to imperial rank; but in what instance has an admiral usurped the liberties of his country? Put our strength in the navy for foreign defense and we shall certainly escape the whole catalogue of possible evils painted by gentlemen on the other side.
* * * * * *
If anything can preserve the country in its most imminent dangers from abroad, it is this species of armament. If we desire to be free from future wars (as I hope we may be), this is the only way to effect it. We shall have peace then, and, what is of still higher moment, peace with perfect security.—John C. Calhoun.
No praise can be too great for the American volunteers, who passed through days of battle, enduring fatigue without a murmur, always in the right place at the right time, and emerging from the fiery ordtal a compact body of veterans, equal to any task that brave and disciplined men can be called upon to undertake.—Gen. George McClellan.
General Grant said: “We did our work as well as we could, and so did thousands of others. What saved the Union was the coming forward of the young men of the nation. They came from their homes and fields, as they did in the time of the Revolution. The humblest soldier who carried a musket is entitled to as much credit as those who were in command. So long as our young men are animated by this spirit, there will be no fear for the Union.”
At Grant's tomb, when speaking of the perils, the services, and the heroism of the men who made up the Union armies, President McKinley put the matter none too strongly when he said: “What is true patriotism? It is an absolute consecration to country. It is an abandonment of business; it is turning away from cherished plans, which have been fondly formed for a life's career; it is the surrendering of bright prospects and the giving up of ambition in a chosen work; it is the sundering of ties of blood and family and almost snapping of the heartstrings which bind us to those we love; it is the surrendering of ourselves absolutely to the demands of country; it may mean disease; it may mean imprisonment, insanity or death; it may mean hunger, thirst, and starvation. In our Civil War it meant all these.”
The captains and the armies who brought to a close the Civil War have left us more than a reunited realm. The material effect of what they did is shown in the fact that the same flag flies from the Great Lakes to the Rio Grande, and all the people of the United States are richer because they are one people and not many, because they belong to one great nation, and not to a contemptible knot of struggling nationalities. But beside this, beside the material results of the Civil War, we are all, North and South, incalculably richer for its memories. We are the richer for each grim campaign, for each hard-fought battle. We are the richer for valor displayed by those who fought so valiantly for the right, and by those who, no less valiantly, fought for what they deemed the right. We have in us nobler capacities for what is great and good, because of the infinite woe and suffering, and because of the splendid ultimate triumph.—Theodore Roosevelt, in “American Ideals.”
MARK TRAFTON, D.D.
Lento.
IN MEMORIAM.
JOHN W. TUFTS,
By special permission SILVER, BURDETT & Co.
If those who win battles and save civilization are dear to the hearts of men, how cherished will be the memory of the tenacious soldier whom nothing could shake o from success.
Breaking up on the Rapidan in early May, Grant forced his fiery way through the Wilderness and was called a butcher. By one of the most masterly and daring of military movements, he forced the enemy within their capital and was called incapable. “He'll do no more,” shouted the exultant friends of the rebeliion. They did not know the man. Undismayed by delay, holding Richmond in both hands, he ordered Thomas to annihilate Hood, and he did it; he ordered Terry to take Fort Fisher, and he took it; he ordered Sheridan to sweep the Shenandoah, and he swept it clean. The terror of Sherman's presence, one hundred miles away, emptied Charleston of troops. Across Georgia, across South Carolina into North Carolina, he moved, scourging the land ,vith fire. Then the genius of the great commander, by the tireless valor of his soldiers, lighted all along the line, burst over the enemy's works, crushed his ranks, forced his retreat, and overwhelmed Lee and his army.—George William Curtis.
By the sacrifice of the Union soldiers, some questions were settled, never to be reopened, over which politicians, and statesmen, and philosophers had wrangled a hundred years. No man will ever after this claim that in politics a part is greater than the whole, or a state greater than a nation, nor will any have the rashness to maintain that “E Pluribus Unum” means many out of one.
The graves of 300,000 patriots are our witness to-day, that henceforth, from the pine forests of our cold northern border to the orange groves of the gulf, from the great Atlantic metropolis of the Empire State to the golden gates of the Pacific, the stars and stripes will brook no rival. On every headstone of the graves decorated to-day may be read, albeit in invisible characters, yet unfading as though written by the hand of fate, “Liberty, Union, Equality;” “One Flag and One Country.” Such was their contribution to their country, to humanity, to posterity. Do we not justly enroll their names among earth's benefactors, and garland their graves as those of heroes and martyrs?—Oscar D. Robinson.
At the battle of Mission Ridge, General Thomas was watching a body of troops painfully pushing their way up a steep hill against a withering fire. Victory seemed impossible, and the General, even he, that rock of valor and patriotism, exclaimed, “They can't do it! They will never reach the top.” His chief of staff, watching the struggle with equal earnestness, said softly, “Time, time, General; give them time;” and presently the moist eyes of 'the brave leader saw his soldiers victorious upon the summit. They were American soldiers—so are we. They were fighting an American battle—so are we. They were climbing a height—so are we. Give us time, and we, too, shall triumph.—George William Custis.
“Did you hear that fearful scream?” asked a Union soldier of his comrade in the early days of the Civil War, as they pressed on in the c!eadly assault up the bloody slope. “Yes; what is it?” “It is the Rebel yell. Does it frighten you?” “Frighten me!” said the young soldier, as he pressed more eagerly forward, “Frighten me!” it is the music to which I march!” And they planted the starry flag of victory upon the enemy's rampart.
When the enemy's yell is the music to which the soldier marches, he marches to victory. Patience then, and forward.—eorge William Curtis.
The shot which the embattled farmers fired at Lexington echoed “round the world,” and produced most of those revolutions in all lands by which power has fallen from the throne and been gained. by the people. It was the echo of that shot which in 1861 aroused the national spirit to the protection of the national life, and while Lexington founded the Republic, the memory of Lexington preserved it.—Chauncey Mitchell Depew.
The great Civil War was remarkable for the inventive mechanical genius and the resolute daring shown by the combatants. This was especially true of the navy. The torpedo boat managed by W. B. Cushing against the Confederate ram, Albemarle, was an open launch, with a spar rigged out in front, the torpedo being placed at the end. The crew consisted of fifteen men. Cushing not only guided his craft, but himself handled the torpedo by means of two small ropes, one of which put it in place, while the other exploded it. Cushing possessed reckless courage, presence of mind, and high ability. On the night of October 27, 1864, he left the Federal fleet, steamed a dozen miles up river, where the great ram lay under the guns of the fort, with a regiment of guns to defend her. He was almost upon her before he was discovered. The rifle balls were sir..1ging about him, and he heard the noise of the great guns as they got ready. Still erect in his little craft, he brought the torpedo full against the side of the huge ram and exploded it just as the pivot gun of the ram was fired at him not ten yards off. At once the ram settled, the launch sinking at the same time, while Cushing and his men swam for their lives.—Adapted from Theodore Roosevelt.
The American Republic was established by the united valor and wisdom of the lovers of liberty from all lands. The Frenchman, with his gay disregard of danger, the German with his steady courage, the Pole with his high enthusiasm, and the Irishman with all these qualities combined, were here in the long and bloody struggle for inde-_ pendence. Lafayette, the beloved of Washington; Hamiltoh, who rode by his side, and assisted to organize the government; Pulaski, Montgomery, Steuben, all were born under alien skies, and came to the banquet of battle and of death because of their love for human freedom. At every subsequent period of American history the foreign-born citizen, in council and in the field, has been faithful to the common cause of liberty.—Daniel W. Voorhees.
In the midst of other cares, however important, we must not lose sight of the fact that the war power is still our main reliance. Our chiefest care must still be directed to the army and navy, who have thus far borne their harder part so nobly and well. And it may be esteemed fortunate that, in giving the greatest efficiency to these indispensable arms, we do also honorably recognize the zallant men, from commander to sentinel, who compose them, and to whom, more than to others, the world must stand indebted for the home of freedom, disenthralled, regenerated, enlarged, and perpetuated.—Abraham Lincoln.
“We bring, 0 brothers of the North, the message of fellowship and love. This message comes from consecrated ground. All around my native home are the hills down which the gray flag fluttered to defeat, and through which the American soldiers from both sides charged like demi-gods. I' could not bring a false message from those old hills, witnesses to-day, in their peace and tranquility, of the imperishable union of the American States, and the indestructible brotherhood of the American people.”—Henry W. Grady, in New York.
At Gettysburg, the world witnessed a battle-field disfigured by no littleness and spoiled by no treachery. So long as the world lasts men will differ about the best strategy in war, and concerning the wisdom of commanders and the quality of their generalship. But no criticism, however clever, can at all belittle the supreme glory of this day and field. Here the world saw a great army confronted ith a great crisis, and dealing with it in a great way. Here all lesser jealousies and rivalries disappeared in the one supreme rivalry how each one should best serve his country, and, if need be, die for her.—Henry C. Potter.
To be cold and breathless, to feel not and speak not; this is not the end of existence to the men who have breathed their spirits into the institutions of their country, who have stamped their characters on the pillars of the age, who have poured their heart's blood into the channels of the public prosperity. Tell me, ye who tread the sods of yon sacred height, is Warren dead? Can you not still see him, not pale and prostrate, the blood of his gallant heart pouring out of his ghastly wound, but moving resplendent over the field of honor, with the rose of heaven upon his cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye? Tell me, ye who make your pious pilgrimage to the shades of Vernon, is Washington indeed shut up in that cold and narrow house? That which made these men, and men like these, cannot die. The hand that traced the charter of independence is, indeed, motionless; the eloquent lips that sustained it are hushed; but the lofty spirits that conceived, resolved, and maintained it, and which alone, to such men “make it life to live,” these cannot expire:
Whiter, for the fires that strove to blacken and blast its fame; purer, for the blood that watered its base; stronger, for the tramp of armed men around its assaulted portals,—we, now and here, rejoice in the rescued temple of our liberties. The credit and glory of the undesecrated walls of that temple and of its unmoved foundations are due to the work and hardships of the American soldier. It was their service which made us to-day fellow-citizens enjoying the same rights, the same chances, the same incalculable career, whether we hail from the East or from the West, from the North or from the South. Honor then to the American soldier now and ever! Honor him in sermon and speech! Honor him in sonnet, stanza, and epic! Honor him in the unwasting forms by which art seeks to prolong his well-earned fame! Honor the volunteer soldier, who, when his work of devastation and death was ended, put aside his armor, melting into the sea of citizenship, makirig no ripple of disturbance upon its surface! Honor the citizen soldier of America, who never knew the feeling of vindictiveness or revenge!—Jalzn L. Swift
To-day the nation looks back and thanks God that, in a great crisis, the children whom it had nurtured in peace and prosperity suddenly showed the stuff of heroes; they were not afraid to dare and to die when the bugle rang clear across the quiet fields. Whenever and however duty called, they answered with their lives. Let the nation thank God that it still breeds the men who make life great by service and sacrifice; that time and work and pleasure ancl wealth have not sapped the sources of its inward strength; that it still knows how to dare all and do all in that hour when manhood alone counts and achieves.—The Outlook.
On a beautiful May Day more than thirty years ago, there gathered beneath the overhanging boughs of a fruit-bearing tree, beside an open grave, the friends and kinsmen of one who, though a mere boy, had smelled the smoke of battle, felt the sting of rebel lead and won for himself the golden crown of martyrdom in the military service of his country. There were also gathered there a few of his old companions in arms—bronzed veterans—survivors of the dreadful carnage at Malvern Hill and the awful slaughter of Gettysburg, who had come to drop a tear at a comrade's grave and breathe a prayer for the safety of his soul. Just as the solemn rites of burial were over and the last shovelful of earth had been heaped upon his last resting-place, God's breath shook the overhanging boughs and sweet and beautiful apple blossoms came gently down and decorated that young hero's grave; and ever since, when the pleasant days and fragrant flowers of spring come, the loyal people of this country gladly follow the example Heaven so graciously set and see to it that no veteran's grave is neglected.—From a Memorial Day address of Col. Anson S. Wood, Commander Department of New York, Grand Army of the Republic.
Look to your history,—that part of it which the world knows, by heart, and you will find on its brightest page the glorious achievements of the American sailor. Whatever his country has done to disgrace him and break his spirit, he has never disgraced her. Man for man, he asks no odds and he cares for no odds when the cause of humanity or the glory of his country calls him to the fight.
Who, in the darkest days of our Revolution, carried your flag into the very chops of the British Channel, bearded the lion in his den, and awoke the echo of old Albion's hills by the thunder of his cannon, and the shouts of his triumph? It was the American sailor; and the names of John Paul Jones and the Bon Homme Richard will go down the annals of time forever.
* * * * * * * * * *
Who struck the first blow that humbled the Barbary flag,—which, for a hundred years, had been the terror of Christendom,—drove it from the Mediterranean, and put an end to the infamous tribute it had been accustomed to exact? It was the American sailor; and the names of Decatur and his gallant companions will be as lasting as monumental brass,
* * * * * * * * *
In your War of 1812, when your arms on shore were covered by disaster, when Winchester had been defeated, when the army of the Northwest had surrendered, and when the gloom of despondency hung like a cloud over the land, who first relit the fires of national glory, and made the welkin ring with the shouts of victory? I was the American sailor; and the names of Hull and the “Constitution” will be remembered as long as we have a country to love.
That one event was worth more to the Republic than all the money which has ever been expended for a navy. Since that day the navy has had no stain upon its national escutcheon, but has been cherished as your pride and glory; and the American sailor has established a reputation throughout the world, in peace and in war, in storm and in battle, for a heroism and prowess unsurpassed.—Commodore Stockton, from speech against whipping in the navy.
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FIRST PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.