Some weeks afterwards arrangements were made for the final interment of the bodies. A suitable lot had been purchased with money collected by the “Defense Committee,” and accordingly on Sunday, the 18th of December, 1887, the Anarchists were invited out to Waldheim to witness the last rites over the dead conspirators. It was a cold, chilling day, and only about a thousand people were in attendance. The remains of the five Anarchists were removed from the vault, the coffins opened and the bodies viewed by all who desired. They were then placed in one grave, and a heavy flagstone was lowered and firmly cemented to protect them. The orators on this occasion were Mr. Buchanan, of Chicago, Paul Grottkau, of Milwaukee, and Albert Currlin, of St. Louis. The tenor of Grottkau’s speech may be judged from the following extract:
“Those cold clods of clay were the first offerings required at our hands, but they will not be the last. Our lords believed that with them they could slaughter the idea and ideals they represent. They imagined that the fivefold gallows would forever choke liberty. How they have succeeded the future will show. Let them erect their gallows, put them up by the million, and they will never destroy the glorious principles. Not all their revolvers, their armories of bayonets and Gatling guns, not all their bristling rows of cannon, can conquer us. (‘Bravo!’ ‘Bravo!’) From this land the fame of our martyrs and our principles will go out to the whole world. Our strangled ones are put at the head of the column. Their names will ever be the brightest on history’s page. Party hate or sectional strife cannot dim their laurels. They were the champions of degraded and plundered humanity. They fought long and manfully for us; they died to serve us; and more than that man cannot do. It but remains for us to do our duty as they did theirs. We must be moved by their spirit. All mean personal desires must depart from us. We must continue our organization. We must be unswervingly loyal to the principles they taught us—the great principles that will free the wretched and enslaved proletarians and drive all injustice from the face of the earth. Brothers, they (pointing to the five coffins) have done their duty; let us do ours.”
Currlin closed his address as follows:
“We have been constantly bought, sold and delivered at the ballot-box (Applause.) These heroes and true men had well considered the folly of relying on the ballot, and with firm hearts and resounding voices had pointed out the road to the thinking and the brave.
“They are gone. Shall the sacrifice of these noble lives be fruitful or not? It will, it must be. Let the dreadful act cement us together. Let us be loftier, firmer than ever. You have your Golgotha. See to it that you have your Easter, and have it soon. You owe it to yourselves and your families that you ever revere these dead. If at any time you become soul-weary or discouraged, make a pilgrimage to this hallowed spot and be reinvigorated for the strife. Let the prison, even the gallows, be powerless to overturn your purpose. Let us struggle for the right, for justice, freedom, and true fraternity until the nations of the earth are of us and with us, until the peoples are regenerated, and clean hands and clean hearts have authority to rule.” (Applause.)
With the final burial of the dead, it may perhaps be well to inquire whether one of them continued to believe in Anarchy when he saw that there was no escaping from his fate. That one about whose faith there is most doubt is Engel.
It is frequently the case that men condemned to death, either on the gallows or otherwise, make a powerful effort to die bravely, and that, whatever may have been their true feelings, the truth dies with them. It is seldom that any one reveals from the bottom of his heart his true sentiments. In this case, Engel was a man known to have been sober and sincere, who believed that everything he said was true and right, and who expressed his opinions freely before all his people. He professed the same sentiments to the public up to the moment of his death, his last words being, “Hurrah for Anarchy!” Yet he felt differently. It is a well-known fact that people sentenced to death adhere until the last second to the position that they are right in their opinions or doctrines, or they simulate innocence. Now, as to Engel, it had been shown by the evidence that he had frequented many places at night, to attend Anarchist meetings, and at many of them he delivered addresses. On some of these occasions he was accompanied by his only daughter, a bright young girl about fifteen or sixteen years of age, and she often heard him utter sentiments which she ought not to have heard. But the girl could not help it. She was there, and she had to listen. After these meetings they would walk home together, and the daughter’s company was always a source of great pleasure to Engel. She was also greatly attached to her father, and, naturally, whatever she heard him say she regarded as true, having the most implicit faith in him. Engel knew all this, and many stormy nights she would brave the weather to be at his side at meetings he felt himself obliged to attend. She would cling to his arm, and through snow and storm they would face the elements. When Engel’s last night on earth came, he asked the Sheriff and Jailor to permit his beloved daughter to remain with him during the night, and, the officials having satisfied themselves that no sinister purpose was in view, the wish was granted. This was the night of November 10, and young Mary kept her father cheerful company during the long hours. Engel seemed to have had something on his mind, but he refrained from saying anything until shortly before the time for her departure. It was evident that Engel had a deep solicitude for her welfare, in spite of his pretended stolidity. In theory he had always expressed the greatest admiration for Louise Michel, and on every occasion he had lauded that Frenchwoman for her bravery in suffering imprisonment and readiness to sacrifice her life for Anarchy. But he regarded theory and practice as separate and distinct, and in the face of death his thoughts concerned themselves with the future of his dear child. Should she espouse Anarchy and follow in his footsteps, taking up his work where he had left off? This is what agitated Engel, and he soon decided the issue. With a serious and earnest manner, and in a very strong voice, he said in German:
“Mein liebes Kind, kümmere dich nicht um Anarchie. Du siehest wie es mir geht. Und vergesse diese Worte nicht so lange du lebst.” (Translated: “My dear child, do not trouble yourself about Anarchy. You see my situation. Do not forget these words as long as you live.”)
KIERLAN’S SOUVENIR.