MAY 4, 1865:
“Firm, united let us be
/ Rallying round our liberty / As a band of brothers joined / Peace and safety
we shall find.” --- Hail Columbia
I
After
a last skirmish for the honor of the thing near Wetumpka, Alabama --- no
injuries are reported --- General Richard Taylor C.S.A. surrenders the
Department of Mississippi and Alabama to General E.R.S. Canby U.S.A. Although Taylor has only 8,000 men under his
direct control, 48,000 Confederate soldiers lay down their arms in the region
are paroled to go home.
The
surrender is celebrated with a huge Southern barbecue and champagne --- “the
most agreeable explosive sounds I have heard in four years,” Taylor assures
Canby. When a Regimental Band strikes up Hail,
Columbia, Canby puts up his hand. Not wishing to offend his southern host,
Canby asks if Taylor would rather hear Dixie.
Taylor, the son of U.S. President Zachary Taylor, bids the band play whatever
they wish “as long as they are songs of our one common country.”
In
his Farewell Message to his troops, Taylor borrows a leaf from Robert E. Lee,
encouraging his men to be “good citizens.”
"Hail, Columbia!" was written for Washington's Inauguration and functioned as the unofficial National Anthem until 1931, when "The Star Spangled Banner" was formally adopted. Since then, "America The Beautiful" and "God Bless America" have become unofficial National Anthems, and "Hail, Columbia!" has been largely forgotten, except in formal ceremonies.
II
There
is a mutiny in the ranks.
As
the caravan of Confederate President Jefferson Davis crosses into Georgia and
nears the town of Washington, Secretary of War John C. Breckinridge tries, once
again fruitlessly, to convince Davis to surrender or to flee.
Davis
is not entirely rational. Enraged at “cowardly” generals who have given up the
fight, Davis has, at least momentarily, given up the idea of traveling to the
Trans-Mississippi. Vowing that, “I will
not give up the fight so long as one Confederate soldier remains on Confederate
soil,” Davis keeps his group moving south --- to where no one is sure.
Among
the men in the Presidential column, rumors of ongoing Confederate surrenders
and Yankee pursuit have eroded the last of Confederate patriotism to mere
spider threads. Tonight, in a cold rain, they snap. Hundreds of Confederate
troopers demand to be paid in gold from the Confederate treasury. They refuse
to move another step until they get paid, and they surround the wagons carrying
the strongboxes. “You’re Confederate
soldiers. Not robbers. Not highwaymen,” Breckinridge tells the troops. “Behave like Southern gentlemen, for
Christ’s sake.”
They
don’t.
The
fate of the Confederate treasury is one of the murkiest episodes of the Civil
War. According to one tradition, Breckinridge paid his men, after which about
half of them dropped their rifles and rode off home. According to another
tradition the men stole at least some of the strongboxes.
How
many chests there were is unknown. Rumors that gold pieces --- including such
romances as Spanish doubloons and Pieces of Eight and assorted gold Sovereigns ---
were among the treasury run rife even to this day.
There
was gold, possibly in ingots, certainly in coin. There was sterling. There was
also jewelry, and there were loose jewels --- diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and
rubies --- among the items in the train. But how much --- no one knows. It is
almost certainly less than imagined, for there simply weren’t enough carts or
horses to pull a vast treasury. But one thing is certain. After the men got
paid the Confederacy was poorer far than it was. To protect the rest, Davis
ordered the treasure carts to travel different routes than he himself. Perhaps
too predictably in the chaos that was the remnant Confederacy they vanished,
not yet to be found --- buried, robbed, stolen or spirited away no one knows
--- and Davis held onto the remainder tightly, his last talisman of hope.
III
Thirty
six guns, one for each of the United States, greeted the dawn in Springfield,
Illinois on May 4, 1865. From then until dusk a gun fired on the half hour. It
was the day of Abraham Lincoln’s entombment.
Lincoln’s
body was taken from the Illinois Capitol to Oak Ridge Cemetery at 1:00 P.M. As
the President was carried down the Capitol steps, a 250-voice choir sang hymns.
A 21-gun salute was offered by a rifle platoon.
A
thousand soldiers, most weeping, made up the President’s Honor Guard. Among the
Honor Guard too was Abraham Lincoln's trusty horse, "Old Bob." Old Bob had carried Lincoln throughout
Illinois on legal business.
Also
in the procession was the president's oldest son, Robert. Mary Todd Lincoln did
not attend any of the services. Indeed, she was still abed in the White House,
too distraught to function. It would be June before she left the White House
and Andrew Johnson and his family could move in.
Thousands
of ordinary citizens, friends and relations made up the rest of the funeral
procession.
Like
with everything else about the Lincoln funeral, even the President’s entombment
caused challenges. Springfield had already begun building an ornate mausoleum “The
Mather Vault” for their President, but Mary Lincoln insisted on Oak Ridge
Cemetery, a “simple, quiet place” in accordance with Lincoln’s own wishes. In the event, the “burial” this day was meant
to be only temporary until either the Mather Vault or a specially-built
receiving vault at Oak Ridge was completed for Lincoln’s body.
The
Springfield funeral was nowhere as ornate as the Chicago and New York funerals,
but it was large and dignified. Bishop Matthew Simpson, who had offered the
opening prayer of the main Washington D.C. funeral, was the chief officiant
today, and the Second Inaugural was read, its words. “with malice toward none, with charity for all” ringing like a
clarion.
Simpson’s
eulogy was simple and moving, and is reprinted in full:
***
Fellow-citizens of
illinois, and of many parts of our entire Union:
Near the capitol of this
large and growing State of Illinois, in the midst of this beautiful grove, and
at the open mouth of the vault which has just received the remains of our
fallen chieftain, we gather to pay a tribute of respect and to drop the tears
of sorrow around the ashes of the mighty dead. A little more than four years
ago he left his plain and quiet home in yonder city, receiving the parting
words of the concourse of friends who in the midst of the dropping of the
gentle shower gathered around him. He spoke of the pain of parting from the
place where he had lived for a quarter of a century, where his children had
been born and his home had been rendered pleasant by friendly associations;
and, as he left, he made an earnest request, in the hearing of some who are present
at this hour, that, as he was about to enter upon responsibilities which he
believed to be greater than any which had fallen upon any man since the days of
Washington, the people would offer up prayers that God would aid and sustain
him in the work which they had given him to do. His company left your quiet
city, but as it went snares were in waiting for the chief magistrate. Scarcely
did he escape the dangers of the way or the hands of the assassin as he neared
Washington; and I believe he escaped only through the vigilance of officers and
the prayers of the people, so that the blow was suspended for more than four
years, which was at last permitted, through the providence of God, to fall.
How different the
occasion which witnessed his departure from that which witnessed his return!
Doubtless you expected to take him by the hand, and to feel the warm grasp
which you had felt in other days, and to see the tall form walking among you
which you had delighted to honor in years past. But he was never permitted to
come until he came with lips mute and silent, the frame encoffined, and a
weeping nation following as his mourners. Such a scene as his return to you was
never witnessed. Among the events of history there have been great processions
of mourners. There was one for the patriarch Jacob, which went up from Egypt,
and the Egyptians wondered at the evidences of reverence and filial affection
which came from the hearts of the Israelites. There was mourning when Moses
fell upon the heights of Pisgah, and was hid from human view. There have been
mournings in the kingdoms of the earth when kings and warriors have fallen. But
never was there in the history of man such mourning as that which has
accompanied this funeral procession, and has gathered around the mortal remains
of him who was our loved one, and who now sleeps among us. If we glance at the
procession which followed him, we see how the nation stood aghast.
Tears filled the eyes of
manly, sun-burnt faces. Strong men, as they clasped the hands of their friends,
were not able in words to find vent for their grief. Women and little children
caught up the tidings as they ran through the land, and were melted into tears.
The nation stood still. Men left their plows in the fields and asked what the
end should be. The hum of manufactories ceased, and the sound of the hammer was
not heard. Busy merchants closed their doors, and in the exchange gold passed
no more from hand to hand. Though three weeks have elapsed, the nation has
scarcely breathed easily yet. A mournful silence is abroad upon the land; nor
is this mourning confined to any class or to any district of country. Men of
all political parties, and of all religious creeds, have united in paying this
mournful tribute. The archbishop of the Roman Catholic Church in New York and a
Protestant minister walked side by side in the sad procession, and a Jewish
rabbi performed a part of the solemn services.
Here are gathered around
his tomb the representatives of the army and navy, senators, judges, governors,
and officers of all the branches of the government. Here, too, are members of
civic processions, with men and women from the humblest as well as the highest
occupations. Here and there, too, are tears as sincere and warm as any that
drop, which come from the eyes of those whose kindred and whose race have been
freed from their chains by him whom they mourn as their deliverer. More persons
have gazed on the face of the departed than ever looked upon the face of any other
departed man. More have looked on the procession for sixteen hundred miles, by
night and by day, by sunlight, dawn, twilight, and by torchlight, than ever
before watched the progress of a procession.
We ask why this
wonderful mourning, this great procession? I answer, first, a part of the interest
has arisen from the times in which we live, and in which he that has fallen was
a principal actor. It is a principle of our nature that feelings once excited
turn readily from the object by which they are excited to some other object
which may for the time being take possession of the mind. Another principle is,
the deepest affections of our hearts gather around some human form in which are
incarnated the living thoughts and ideas of the passing age. If we look then at
the times, we see an age of excitement. For four years the popular heart has
been stirred to its inmost depth. War had come upon us, dividing families,
separating nearest and dearest friends, a war the extent and magnitude of which
no one could estimate; a war in which the blood of brethren was shed by a
brother's hand. A call for soldiers was made by this voice now hushed, and all
over the land, from hill to mountain, from plain to valley, there sprung up
thousands of bold hearts, ready to go forth and save our national Union. This
feeling of excitement was transformed next into a feeling of deep grief because
of the dangers in which our country was placed. Many said, "Is it possible
to save our nation?" Some in our country, and nearly all the leading men
in other countries, declared it to be impossible to maintain the Union; and
many an honest and patriotic heart was deeply pained with apprehensions of
common ruin; and many, in grief and almost in despair, anxiously inquired, What
shall the end of these things be? In addition to this wives had given their
husbands, mothers their sons, the pride and joy of their hearts. They saw them
put on the uniform, they saw them take the martial step, and they tried to hide
their deep feeling of sadness. Many dear ones slept upon the battle-field never
to return again, and there was mourning in every mansion and in every cabin in
our broad land. Then came a feeling of deeper sadness as the story came of
prisoners tortured to death or starved through the mandates of those who are
called the representatives of the chivalry, and who claimed to be the honorable
ones of the earth; and as we read the stories of frames attenuated and reduced
to mere skeletons, our grief turned partly into horror and partly into a cry
for vengeance.
Then this feeling was
changed to one of joy. There came signs of the end of this rebellion. We
followed the career of our glorious generals. We saw our army, under the
command of the brave officer who is guiding this procession, climb up the
heights of Lookout Mountain, and drive the rebels from their strongholds.
Another brave general swept through Georgia, South and North Carolina, and
drove the combined armies of the rebels before him, while the honored
Lieutenant-General held Lee and his hosts in a death-grasp.
Then the tidings came
that Richmond was evacuated, and that Lee had surrendered. The bells rang merrily
all over the land. The booming of cannon was heard; illuminations and
torchlight processions manifested the general joy, and families were looking
for the speedy return of their loved ones from the field of battle. Just in the
midst of this wildest joy, in one hour, nay, in one moment, the tidings
thrilled throughout the land that Abraham Lincoln, the best of presidents, had
perished by the hands of an assassin. Then all the feelings which had been
gathering for four years in forms of excitement, grief, horror, and joy, turned
into one wail of woe, a sadness inexpressible, an anguish unutterable.
But it is not the times
merely which caused this mourning. The mode of his death must be taken into the
account. Had he died on a bed of illness, with kind friends around him; had the
sweat of death been wiped from his brow by gentle hands, while he was yet
conscious; could he have had power to speak words of affection to his stricken
widow, or words of counsel to us like those which we heard in his parting
inaugural at Washington, which shall now be immortal, how it would have
softened or assuaged something of the grief! There might at least have been
preparation for the event. But no moment of warning was given to him or to us.
He was stricken down, too, when his hopes for the end of the rebellion were
bright, and prospects of a joyous life were before him. There was a cabinet
meeting that day, said to have been the most cheerful and happy of any held
since the beginning of the rebellion. After this meeting he talked with his
friends, and spoke of the four years of tempest, of the storm being over, and
of the four years of pleasure and joy now awaiting him, as the weight of care
and anxiety would be taken from his mind, and he could have happy days with his
family again. In the midst of these anticipations he left his house never to
return alive. The evening was Good Friday, the saddest day in the whole
calendar for the Christian Church, henceforth in this country to be made
sadder, if possible by the memory of our nation's loss; and so filled with
grief was every Christian heart that even all the joyous thought of Easter
Sunday failed to remove the crushing sorrow under which the true worshiper
bowed in the house of God.
But the great cause of
this mourning is to be found in the man himself. Mr. Lincoln was no ordinary
man. I believe the conviction has been growing on the nation's mind, as it
certainly has been on my own, especially in the last years of his
administration, that by the hand of God he was especially singled out to guide
our government in these troublesome times, and it seems to me that the hand of
God may be traced in many of the events connected with his history. First,
then, I recognize this in the physical education which he received, and which
prepared him for enduring herculean labors. In the foils of his boyhood and the
labors of his manhood, God was giving him an iron frame. Next to this was his
identification with the heart of the great people, understanding their feelings
because he was one of them, and connected with them in their movements and
life. His education was simple. A few months spent in the school-house gave him
the elements of education. He read few books, but mastered all he read.
Pilgrim's Progress, Aesop's Fables, and the Life of Washington, were his
favorites. In these we recognize the works which gave the bias to his
character, and which partly moulded his style. His early life, with its varied
struggles, joined him indissolubly to the working masses, and no elevation in
society diminished his respect for the sons of toil. He knew what it was to
fell the tall trees of the forest and to stem the current of the broad
Mississippi. His home was in the growing West, the heart of the republic and,
invigorated by the wind which swept over its prairies, he learned lessons of
self-reliance which sustained him in seasons of adversity.
His genius was soon
recognized, as true genius always will be, and he was placed in the legislature
of his state. Already acquainted with the principles of law, he devoted his
thoughts to matters of public interest, and began to be looked on as the coming
statesman. As early as 1839 he presented resolutions in the legislature asking
for emancipation in the District of Columbia, when, with but rare exceptions,
the whole popular mind of his state was opposed to the measure. From that hour
he was a steady and uniform friend of humanity, and was preparing for the
conflict of later years.
If you ask me on what
mental characteristic his greatness rested, I answer, On a quick and ready
perception of facts; on a memory, unusually tenacious and retentive; and on a
logical turn of mind, which followed sternly and unwaveringly every link in the
chain of thought on every subject which he was called to investigate. I think
there have been minds more broad in their character, more comprehensive in
their scope, but I doubt if ever there has been a man who could follow step by
step, with more logical power, the points which he desired to illustrate. He
gained this power by the close study of geometry, and by a determination to
perceive the truth in all its relations and simplicity, and when found, to
utter it.
It is said of him that
in childhood when he had any difficulty in listening to a conversation, to
ascertain what people meant, if he retired to rest he could not sleep till he
tried to understand the precise point intended, and when understood, to frame
language to convey in it a clearer manner to others. Who that has read his
messages fails to perceive the directness and the simplicity of his style? And
this very trait, which was scoffed at and decried by opponents, is now
recognized as one of the strong points of that mighty mind which has so
powerfully influenced the destiny of this nation, and which shall, for ages to
come, influence the destiny of humanity.
It was not, however,
chiefly by his mental faculties that he gained such control over mankind. His
moral power gave him pre-eminence. The convictions of men that Abraham Lincoln
was an honest man led them to yield to his guidance. As has been said of
Cobden, whom he greatly resembled, he made all men feel a sense of himself; a
recognition of individuality; a self-relying power. They saw in him a man whom
they believed would do what is right, regardless of all consequences. It was
this moral feeling which gave him the greatest hold on the people, and made his
utterances almost oracular. When the nation was angered by the perfidy of
foreign nations in allowing privateers to be fitted out, he uttered the
significant expression, "One war at a time," and it stilled the
national heart. When his own friends were divided as to what steps should be
taken as to slavery, that simple utterance, "I will save the Union, if I
can, with slavery; if not, slavery must perish, for the Union must be
preserved," became the rallying word. Men felt the struggle was for the
Union, and all other questions must be subsidiary.
But after all, by the
acts of a man shall his fame be perpetuated. What are his acts? Much praise is
due to the men who aided him. He called able counselors around him, some of
whom have displayed the highest order of talent united with the purest and most
devoted patriotism. He summoned able generals into the field, men who have
borne the sword as bravely as ever any human arm has borne it. He had the aid
of prayerful and thoughtful men everywhere. But, under his own guiding hands,
wise counsels were combined and great movements conducted.
Turn toward the
different departments. We had an unorganized militia, a mere skeleton army,
yet, under his care, that army has been enlarged into a force which, for skill,
intelligence, efficiency, and bravery, surpasses any which the world had ever
seen. Before its veterans the fame of even the renowned veterans of Napoleon
shall pale, and the mothers and sisters on these hillsides, and all over the
land, shall take to their arms again braver sons and brothers than ever fought
in European wars. The reason is obvious. Money, or a desire for fame, collected
those armies, or they were rallied to sustain favorite thrones or dynasties;
but the armies he called into being fought for liberty, for the Union, and for
the right of self-government; and many of them felt that the battles they won
were for humanity everywhere, and for all time; for I believe that God has not
suffered this terrible rebellion to come upon our land merely for a
chastisement to us, or as a lesson to our age.
There are moments which
involve in themselves eternities. There are instants which seem to contain
germs which shall develop and bloom forever. Such a moment came in the tide of
time to our land, when a question must be settled which affected all the earth.
The contest was for human freedom, not for this republic merely, not for the
Union simply, but to decide whether the people, as a people, in their entire
majesty, were destined to be the government, or whether they were to be
subjects to tyrants or aristocrats, or to class-rule of any kind. This is the
great question for which we have been fighting, and its decision is at hand,
and the result of the contest will affect the ages to come. If successful,
republics will spread, in spite of monarchs, all over this earth.
I turn from the army to
the navy. What was it when the war commenced? Now we have our ships-of-war at
home and abroad, to guard privateers in foreign sympathizing ports, as well as
to care for every part of our own coast. They have taken forts that military
men said could not be taken; and a brave admiral, for the first time in the
world's history, lashed himself to the mast, there to remain as long as he had
a particle of skill or strength to watch over his ship, while it engaged in the
perilous contest of taking the strong forts of the rebels.
Then again I turn to the
treasury department. Where should the money come from? Wise men predicted ruin,
but our national credit has been maintained, and our currency is safer to-day
than it ever was before. Not only so, but through our national bonds, if
properly used, we shall have a permanent basis for our currency, and an
investment so desirable for capitalists of other nations that, under the laws
of trade, I believe the center of exchange will speedily be transferred from
England to the United States.
But the great act of the
mighty chieftain, on which his fame shall rest long after his frame shall
moulder away, is that of giving freedom to a race. We have all been taught to
revere the sacred characters. Among them Moses stands pre-eminently high. He
received the law from God, and his name is honored among the hosts of heaven.
Was not his greatest act the delivering of three millions of his kindred out of
bondage? Yet we may assert that Abraham Lincoln, by his proclamation, liberated
more enslaved people than ever Moses set free, and those not of his kindred or
his race. Such a power, or such an opportunity, God has seldom given to man.
When other events shall have been forgotten; when this world shall have become
a network of republics; when every throne shall be swept from the face of the
earth; when literature shall enlighten all minds; when the claims of humanity
shall be recognized everywhere, this act shall still be conspicuous on the
pages of history. We are thankful that God gave to Abraham Lincoln the decision
and wisdom and grace to issue that proclamation, which stands high above all
other papers which have been penned by uninspired men.
Abraham Lincoln was a
good man. He was known as an honest, temperate, forgiving man; a just man; a
man of noble heart in every way. As to his religious experience, I cannot speak
definitely, because I was not privileged to know much of his private
sentiments. My acquaintance with him did not give me the opportunity to hear
him speak on those topics. This I know, however, he read the Bible frequently;
loved it for its great truths and its profound teachings; and he tried to be
guided by its precepts. He believed in Christ the Saviour of sinners; and I
think he was sincere in trying to bring his life into harmony with the
principles of revealed religion. Certainly if there ever was a man who
illustrated some of the principles of pure religion, that man was our departed
president. Look over all his speeches; listen to his utterances. He never spoke
unkindly of any man. Even the rebels received no word of anger from him; and
his last day illustrated in a remarkable manner his forgiving disposition. A
dispatch was received that afternoon that Thompson and Tucker were trying to make
their escape through Maine, and it was proposed to arrest them. Mr. Lincoln,
however, preferred rather to let them quietly escape. He was seeking to save
the very men who had been plotting his destruction. This morning we read a
proclamation offering $25,000 for the arrest of these men as aiders and
abettors of his assassination; so that, in his expiring acts, he was saying,
"Father, forgive them, they know not what they do."
As a ruler I doubt if
any president has ever shown such trust in God, or in public documents so
frequently referred to Divine aid. Often did he remark to friends and to
delegations that his hope for our success rested in his conviction that God
would bless our efforts, because we were trying to do right. To the address of
a large religious body he replied, "Thanks be unto God, who, in our
national trials, giveth us the Churches." To a minister who said he hoped
the Lord was on our side, he replied that it gave him no concern whether the
Lord was on our side or not "For," he added, "I know the Lord is
always on the side of right;" and with deep feeling added, "But God
is my witness that it is my constant anxiety and prayer that both myself and
this nation should be on the Lord's side."
In his domestic life he
was exceedingly kind and affectionate. He was a devoted husband and father.
During his presidential term he lost his second son, Willie. To an officer of
the army he said, not long since, "Do you ever find yourself talking with
the dead?" and added, "Since Willie's death I catch myself every day
involuntarily talking with him, as if he were with me." On his widow, who
is unable to be here, I need only invoke the blessing of Almighty God that she
may be comforted and sustained. For his son, who has witnessed the exercises of
this hour, all that I can desire is that the mantle of his father may fall upon
him.
Let us pause a moment in
the lesson of the hour before we part. This man, though he fell by an assassin,
still fell under the permissive hand of God. He had some wise purpose in
allowing him so to fall. What more could he have desired of life for himself?
Were not his honors full? There was no office to which he could aspire. The
popular heart clung around him as around no other man. The nations of the world
had learned to honor our chief magistrate. If rumors of a desired alliance with
England be true, Napoleon trembled when he heard of the fall of Richmond, and
asked what nation would join him to protect him against our government under
the guidance of such a man. His fame was full, his work was done, and he sealed
his glory by becoming the nation's great martyr for liberty.
He appears to have had a
strange presentiment, early in political life, that some day he would be
president. You see it indicated in 1839. Of the slave power he said,
"Broken by it I too may be; bow to it I never will. The probability that
we may fail in the struggle ought not to deter us from the support of a cause
which I deem to be just. It shall not deter me. If ever I feel the soul within
me elevate and expand to those dimensions not wholly unworthy of its Almighty
architect, it is when I contemplate the cause of my country, deserted by all
the world besides, and I standing up boldly and alone, and hurling defiance at
her victorious oppressors. Here, without contemplating consequences, before
high Heaven, and in the face of the world, I swear eternal fidelity to the just
cause, as I deem it, of the land of my life, my liberty, and my love." And
yet, recently, he said to more than one, "I never shall live out the four
years of my term. When the rebellion is crushed my work is done." So it
was. He lived to see the last battle fought, and dictate a dispatch from the
home of Jefferson Davis; lived till the power of the rebellion was broken; and
then having done the work for which God had sent him, angels, I trust, were
sent to shield him from one moment of pain or suffering, and to bear him from
this world to the high and glorious realm where the patriot and the good shall
live forever.
His career teaches young
men that every position of eminence is open before the diligent and the worthy.
To the active men of the country his example is an incentive to trust in God
and do right. To the ambitious there is this fearful lesson: Of the four
candidates for presidential honors in 1860, two of them--Douglas and
Lincoln--once competitors, but now sleeping patriots, rest from their labors;
Bell abandoned to perish in poverty and misery, as a traitor might perish; and
Breckinridge is a frightened fugitive, with the brand of traitor on his brow.
Standing, as, we do
to-day, by his coffin and his sepulcher, let us resolve to carry forward the
policy which he so nobly begun. Let us do right to all men. Let us vow, in the
sight of Heaven, to eradicate every vestige of human slavery; to give every
human being his true position before God and man; to crush every form of
rebellion, and to stand by the flag which God has given us. How joyful that it
floated over parts of every state before Mr. Lincoln's career was ended! How singular
that, to the fact of the assassin's heels being caught in the folds of the
flag, we are probably indebted for his capture. The flag and the traitor must
ever be enemies.
Traitors will probably
suffer by the change of rulers, for one of sterner mould, and who himself has
deeply suffered from the rebellion, now wields the sword of justice. Our
country, too, is stronger for the trial. A republic was declared by monarchists
too weak to endure a civil war; yet we have crushed the most gigantic rebellion
in history, and have grown in strength and population every year of the
struggle. We have passed through the ordeal of a popular election while swords
and bayonets were in the field, and have come out unharmed. And now, in an hour
of excitement, with a large minority having preferred another man for
President, when the bullet of the assassin has laid our President prostrate,
has there been a mutiny? Has any rival proffered his claims? Out of an army of
near a million, no officer or soldier uttered one note of dissent; and, in an
hour or two after Mr. Lincoln's death, another leader, under constitutional
forms, occupied his chair, and the government moved forward without one single
jar. The world will learn that republics are the strongest governments on earth.
And now, my friends, in
the words of the departed, "with malice toward none," free from all
feelings of personal vengeance, yet believing that the sword must not be borne
in vain, let us go forward even in painful duty. Let every man who was a senator
or representative in Congress, and who aided in beginning this rebellion, and
thus led to the slaughter of our sons and daughters, be brought to speedy and
to certain punishment. Let every officer educated at the public expense, and
who, having been advanced to high position, perjured himself and turned his
sword against the vitals of his country, be doomed to a traitor's death. This,
I believe, is the will of the American people. Men may attempt to compromise,
and to restore these traitors and murderers to society again. Vainly may they
talk of the fancied honor or chivalry of these murderers of our sons--these
starvers of our prisoners--these officers who mined their prisons and placed
kegs of powder to destroy our captive officers. But the American people will
rise in their majesty and sweep all such compromises and compromisers away, and
will declare that there shall be no safety for rebel leaders. But to the
deluded masses we will extend the arms of forgiveness. We will take them to our
hearts, and walk with them side by side, as we go forward to work out a
glorious destiny.
The time will come when,
in the beautiful words of him whose lips are now forever sealed, "The
mystic cords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to
every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the
chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better
angels of our nature."
Chieftain, farewell! The
nation mourns thee. Mothers shall teach thy name to their lisping children. The
youth of our land shall emulate thy virtues. Statesmen shall study thy record
and learn lessons of wisdom. Mute though thy lips be, yet they still speak.
Hushed is thy voice, but its echoes of liberty are ringing through the world, and
the sons of bondage listen with joy. Prisoned thou art in death, and yet thou
art marching abroad, and chains and manacles are bursting at thy touch. Thou
didst fall not for thyself. The assassin had no hate for thee. Our hearts were
aimed at, our national life was sought. We crown thee as our martyr, and
humanity enthrones thee as her triumphant son. Hero, Martyr, Friend, FAREWELL!
No
one really knows how many funerals President Lincoln had. Aside from the three
services in Washington and the twelve official services in Baltimore,
Harrisburg, Philadelphia, New York, Albany, Buffalo, Cleveland, Columbus,
Indianapolis, Michigan City, Chicago, and Springfield, there were countless
funerals, prayer services, and vigils held for the fallen President in absentia throughout the land, even in
some locales of the south.
Michigan
City itself had held a funeral in
absentia before it became an unexpected “official” stop. Trenton, which had
no viewing, held a public service while Lincoln lay aboard the Funeral Train in
the station. Columbus and Indianapolis left their empty flower-heaped
catafalques on display after the Funeral Train moved on. The outpouring of
sincere grief at the President’s murder was unprecedented and his grand journey
home has never been equaled.
And
though burial is usually the last stop on a person’s journey, it is a fact that
the strange afterlife peregrinations of Abraham Lincoln had only begun.
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