Then think of the heroes who served this country; who gave us this glorious present and hope of a still more glorious future; think of the men who really made us free, who secured the blessings of liberty, not only to us, but to billions yet unborn.
This country will be covered with happy homes and free men and free women.
To-day we remember the heroic dead, those whose blood reddens the paths and highways of honor; those who died upon the field, in the charge, in prison-pens, or in famine's clutch; those who gave their lives that liberty should not perish from the earth. And to-day we remember the great leaders who have passed to the realm of silence, to the land of shadow. Thomas, the rock of Chickamauga, self-poised, firm, brave, faithful; Sherman, the reckless, the daring, the prudent and the victorious; Sheridan, a soldier fit to have stood by Julius Cæsar and to have uttered the words of command; and Grant, the silent, the invincible, the unconquered; and rising above them all, Lincoln, the wise, the patient, the merciful, the grandest figure in the Western world. We remember them all today and hundreds of thousands who are not mentioned, but who are equally worthy, hundreds of thousands of privates, deserving of equal honor with the plumed leaders of the host.
And what shall I say to you, survivors of the death-filled days? To you, my comrades, to you whom I have known in the great days, in the time when the heart beat fast and the blood flowed strong; in the days of high hope—what shall I say? All I can say is that my heart goes out to you, one and all. To you who bared your bosoms to the storms of war; to you who left loved ones to die, if need be, for the sacred cause. May you live long in the land you helped to save; may the winter of your age be as green as spring, as full of blossoms as summer, as generous as autumn, and may you, surrounded by plenty, with your wives at your sides and your grandchildren on your knees, live long. And when at last the fires of life burn low; when you enter the deepening dusk of the last of many, many happy days; when your brave hearts beat weak and slow, may the memory of your splendid deeds; deeds that freed your fellow-men; deeds that kept your country on the map of the world; deeds that kept the flag of the Republic in the air—may the memory of these deeds fill your souls with peace and perfect joy. Let it console you to know that you are not to be forgotten. Centuries hence your story will be told in art and song, and upon your honored graves flowers will be lovingly laid by millions' of men and women now unborn.
Again expressing the joy that I feel in having met you, and again saying farewell to one and all, and wishing you all the blessings of life, I bid you goodbye.*
* At the last reunion of the Eleventh Illinois Cavalry, the
Colonel's old regiment, and the soldiers of Peoria county,
which Mr. Ingersoll attended, a little incident happened
which let us into the inner circle of his life. The meeting
was held at Elmwood. While the soldier were passing in
review the citizens and young people filled all the seats in
the park and crowded around the speaker's stand, so as to
occupy all available space. When the soldiers had finished
their parade and returned to the park, they found it
impossible to get near the speaker. Of course we were all
disappointed, but were forced to stand on the outskirts of
the vast throng.
As soon as he ceased speaking, Mr. Ingersoll said to a
soldier that he would like to meet his comrades in the hall
at a certain hour in the afternoon. The word spread quickly,
and at the appointed hour the hall was crowded with
soldiers. The guard stationed at tue door was ordered to let
none but soldiers pass into the hall. Some of the comrades,
however, brought their wives. The guards, true to their
orders, refused to let the ladies pass. Just as Mr.
Ingersoll was ready to speak, word came to him that some of
the comrades' wives were outside and wanted permission to
pass the guard. The hall was full, but Mr. Ingersoll
requested all comrades whose wives were within reach to go
and get them. When his order had been complied with even
standing room was at a premium. When Mr. Ingersoll arose to
speak to that great assemblage of white-haired veterans and
their aged companions his voice was unusually tender, and the
wave of emotion that passed through the hall cannot be told
in words. Tears and cheers blended as Mr. Ingersoll arose
and began his speech with the statement that all present
were nearing the setting sun of life, and in all probability
that was the last opportunity many of them would have of
taking each other by the hand.
In this half-hour impromptu speech the great-hearted man,
Robert G. Ingersoll, was seen at his best. It was not a
clash of opinions over party or creed, but it was a meeting
of hearts and communion together In the holy of holies of
human life. The address was a series of word-pictures that
still hang on the walls of memory. The speaker, in his most
sympathetic mood, drew a picture of the service of the G. A.
R., of the women of the republic, and then paid a beautiful
tribute to home and invoked the kindest and greatest
influence to guard his comrades and their companions during
the remainder of life's journey.
We got very close to the man that day, where we could see
the heart of Mr. Ingersoll. I have often wished that a
reporter could have been present to preserve the address.
Imagine four beautiful word-paintings entitled, "The Service
of the G. A. R.," "The Influence of Noble Womanhood," "The
Sacredness of Home," and "The Pilgrimage of Life." Imagine
these word-paintings as drawn by Mr. Ingersoll under the
most favorable circumstances, and you have an idea of that
address. Mr. Ingersoll the Agnostic is a very different man
from Mr. Ingersoll the man and patriot. I cannot share the
doubts of this Agnostic. I cannot help admiring the man and
patriot.—The Rev. Frank McAlpine, Peoria Star, August 1,
1895.
THE CHICAGO AND NEW YORK GOLD SPEECH.
* "This world will see but one Ingersoll."
Such was the terse, laconic, yet potent utterance that came
spontaneously from a celebrated statesman whose head is now
pillowed in the dust of death, as he stood in the lobby of
the old Burnet House in Cincinnati after the famous
Republican Convention in that city in 1876, at which Colonel
Robert G. Ingersoll made that powerful speech nominating
Blaine for the Presidency, one which is read and reread to-
day, and will be read in the future, as an example of the
highest art of the platform.
That same sentiment in thought, emotion or vocal expression
emanated from upward of twenty thousand citizens last night
who heard the eloquent and magic Ingersoll in the great
tent stretched near the corner of Sacramento avenue and Lake
street as he expounded the living gospel of true
Republicanism.
The old warhorse, silvered by long years of faithful service
to his country, aroused the same all-pervading enthusiasm as
he did in the campaigns of Grant and Hayes and Garfield.
He has lost not one whit, not one iota of his striking
physical presence, his profound reasoning, his convincing
logic, his rollicking wit, grandiloquence—in fine, all the
graces of the orator of old, reenforced by increased
patriotism and the ardor of the call to battle for his
country, are still his in the fullest measure.
Ingersoll in his powerful speech at Cincinnati, spoke in
behalf of a friend; last night he plead for his country. In
1876 he eulogized a man; last night, twenty years afterward,
he upheld the principles of democratic government. Such was
the difference in his theme; the logic, the eloquence of his
utterances was the more profound In the same ratio.
He came to the ground floor of human existence and talked as
man to man. His patriotism, be it religion, sentiment, or
that lofty spirit inseparable from man's soul, is his life.
Last night he sought to inspire those who heard him with the
same loyalty, and he succeeded.
Those passionate outbursts of eloquence, the wit that fairly
scintillated, the logic as Inexorable as heaven's decrees,
his rich rhetoric and immutable facts driven straight to his
hearers with the strength of bullets, aroused applause that
came as spontaneous as sunlight.
Now eliciting laughter, now silence, now cheers, the great
orator, with the singular charm of presence, manner and
voice, swayed his immense audience at his own volition.
Packed with potency was every sentence, each word a living
thing, and with them he flayed financial heresy, laid bare
the dire results of free trade, and exposed the dangers of
Populism.
It was an immense audience that greeted him. The huge tent
was packed from center-pole to circumference, and thousands
went away because they could not gain entrance. The houses
in the vicinity were beautifully illuminated decorated.
The Chairman, Wm. P. McCabe, in a brief but forcible speech,
presented Colonel Ingersoll to the vast audience. As the old
veteran of rebellion days arose from his seat, one
prolonged, tremendous cheer broke forth from the twenty
thousand throats. And it was fully fifteen minutes before
the great orator could begin to deliver his address.
In his introductory speech Mr. McCabe said:
"Friends and Fellow-Citizens: I have no set speech to make
to-night. My duty Is to introduce to you one whose big heart
and big brain is filled with love and patriotic care for the
things that concern the country he fought for and loved so
well. I now have the honor of introducing to you Hon. Robert
G. Ingersoll."—The Intrr-Ocean, Chicago, 111., October 9th,
1895.