The war to preserve the integrity of the nation was marked by great battles, weary marches, long sieges, and splendid deeds of daring. Brave men met brave men, and gallant soldiers stormed forts and heights by gallant soldiers defended. If America wept for the folly and madness of some, yet was she proud of the courage of all her sons. We think to-night of the mighty struggle that ended with Appomattox’s cloudless day; of all the fields where saber flashed, and cannon roared, and patriot sons sealed their devotion with their blood. The world knows the result. Freedom triumphed. The Union was saved, Liberty survived, slavery perished and is dead upon our soil forevermore,—dead by the sword of immortal Grant, “dead by the hand of Abraham Lincoln, dead by the justice of Almighty God.”
Rejoice, O human hearts and human lips, that Liberty survived. Rejoice, O men of the North, that slavery is dead. Rejoice, O men of the South, that slavery is dead. Rejoice, O sons of the Republic, that the crown was restored to the brow of liberty, that, reunited and reconciled, loyal and true, we stand to-day, hand in hand, heart beating with heart, under the blessed and ever-triumphant banner of the Union.
And thus may we ever stand,—one people, one nation,—no North, no South, no East; no West,—one altar, one love, one hope.
And thus may we ever stand,—brothers in peace, brothers in war,—and “highly resolved that government of the people, by the people, and for the people shall not perish from the earth.”
And thus may we ever stand,—a Union of hearts and of states, and “teach men that Liberty is not a mockery, and a republic is not another name for feebleness and anarchy.”
And standing thus, the world cannot prevail against us in war or in peace.
Fellow-citizens, in this hour of mourning we may without impropriety indulge ourselves in feelings of pride over the glorious deeds of our heroes dead and living. Pittsburgh Landing, Chattanooga, and Vicksburg; Lookout Mountain, Gettysburg, and Antietam; the Wilderness, Atlanta, and Richmond,—all are eternal witnesses to the deathless valor and sublime courage of those upon whose graves we have tenderly laid our flowers and upon whose brows we have lovingly placed the laurel wreath of victory and peace. No poor words of mine can tell them of our love or add unto their fame; the one is unspeakable, the other as broad and all-comprehensive as the earth, as high and spotless as the stars.
Upon the hearts of many heroes who made our country free—who with their blood washed away the ebon blot on our country’s shield—inexorable death has laid his hand, and the high and the low, the mighty general and the humble private, repose alike in the equal grave. All-conquering “time, the tomb-builder,” is day by day mustering out the noble army that went forth to save, to make and to preserve us a nation. Halleck, Thomas, Meade, McClellan, Hancock, McDowell, Garfield, Logan, Sheridan, Sherman, Harrison, Porter, McKinley,—all have been gathered to their fathers, gone to grasp the hands of their comrades on the peaceful shores of Eternal Rest.
But of him, the simple, silent, steadfast man; of him that marshaled order out of chaos, gave direction to mighty armies and led them to final victory; of him who made the Emancipation Proclamation of Abraham Lincoln a glorious reality, and eternal fact which broke the chains that held a race in bondage; of him who bore his great honors so modestly and meekly in war and peace; of him who by his genius added to our arms a luster as imperishable as his fame, and left his countrymen the priceless legacy of an untarnished and immortal name; of him who was ambitious, not as a Cæsar, not as a Napoleon, but as a Washington, with no higher aim, no loftier purpose, than to serve his country, not to wear a crown; of him who stood before uncovered kings and was saluted by the emperors of the earth, but never forgot his humble origin nor lost his sympathy for the poor and lowly; of him whose deeds, from duty and necessity, not from choice, were war, but whose heart ever yearned, whose voice ever pleaded, for peace,—what human tongue can speak of the spotless, peerless General Grant? His mighty work is done, his triumphal march is ended, his name is for all time. Reverently and tenderly we lay our flowers upon his tomb to-day; gratefully and lovingly we breathe his sacred name. Calm, cool, and undaunted, victorious in war, magnanimous in peace,—
Nothing can cover his high fame, but Heaven;