On by heights cannon-browed,
While the spars quiver;
Onward still flames the cloud
Where the hulls shiver.
See, yon fort’s star is set,
Storm and fire past.
Cheer him, lads—Farragut,
Lashed to the mast!
Oh! while Atlantic’s breast
Bears a white sail,
While the Gulf’s towering crest
Tops a green vale,
Men thy bold deeds shall tell,
Old Heart of Oak,
Daring Dave Farragut,
Thunderbolt stroke!
William Tuckey Meredith.
PINE AND PALM
(GRANT AND LEE)
Charles Francis Adams in address before Chicago Chapter of Phi Beta Kappa, June 17, 1902.
I NOW come to what I have always regarded—shall ever regard as the most creditable episode in all American history,—an episode without a blemish,—imposing, dignified, simple, heroic. I refer to Appomattox. Two men met that day, representative of American civilization, the whole world looking on. The two were Grant and Lee,—types each. Both rose, and rose unconsciously, to the full height of the occasion,—and than that occasion there has been none greater. About it and them, there was no theatrical display, no self-consciousness, no effort at effect. A great crisis was to be met; and they met that crisis as great countrymen should.
That month of April saw the close of exactly four years of persistent strife,—a strife which the whole civilized world had been watching intently. Then, suddenly, came the dramatic climax at Appomattox, dramatic I say, not theatrical,—severe in its simple, sober, matter-of-fact majesty. The world, I again assert, has seen nothing like it; and the world, instinctively, was at the time conscious of the fact. I like to dwell on the familiar circumstances of the day; on its momentous outcome; on its far-reaching results. It affords one of the greatest educational object lessons to be found in history; and the actors were worthy of the theater, the auditory, and the play.
A mighty tragedy was drawing to a close. The breathless world was the audience. It was a bright, balmy April Sunday in a quiet Virginia landscape, with two veteran armies confronting each other; one game to the death, completely in the grasp of the other. The future was at stake. What might ensue? What might not ensue? Would the strife end then and there? Would it die in a death-grapple, only to reappear in that chronic form of a vanquished but indomitable people, writhing and struggling, in the grasp of an insatiate but only nominal victor?