STATUE OF LINCOLN
By Augustus Saint Gaudens, in Lincoln Park, Chicago, Illinois
On the 22nd of October, 1887, this statue by Saint Gaudens was unveiled, Mr. Eli Bates donating $40,000 for that purpose. There is a vast oval of cut stone, thirty by sixty feet, the interior fashioned to form a classic bench, and the statue stands on a stone pedestal. The sculptor represents him as an orator, just risen from his chair, which is shown behind him, and waiting for the audience to become quiet before beginning his speech. The attitude is that always assumed by Lincoln at the beginning—one hand behind him, and the other grasping the lapel of his coat. He appears the very incarnation of rugged grandeur which held the master mind of this age.
Charles Graham Halpin (Miles O'Reilly) was born near Oldcastle, County of Meath, Ireland, November 20, 1829. Graduated from Trinity College, Dublin, in 1846. He entered the field of journalism as a profession and soon gained a reputation in England. Came to New York in 1852 and secured employment with the Herald, was later connected with other papers. Enlisted in April, 1861, and became lieutenant of Colonel Corcoran's 69th Regiment, rising to the rank of brigadier-general. He died in New York City, August 3, 1868.
[LINCOLN]
| He [filled the Nation's eyes and heart,] An honored, loved, familiar name; So much a brother that his fame Seemed of our lives a common part. His towering figure, sharp and spare, Was with such nervous tension strung, As if on each strained sinew swung The burden of a people's care. His changing face, what pen can draw— [Pathetic, kindly, droll or stern;] And with a glance so quick to learn The inmost truth of all he saw. Pride found no place to spawn Her fancies in his busy mind. His worth, like health or air, could find No just appraisal till withdrawn. He was his country's—not his own; He had no wish but for the weak, Nor for himself could think or feel, But as a laborer for her throne. Her flag upon the heights of power— Stainless and unassayed to place, To this one end his earnest face Was bent through every burdened hour. ..... But done the battle—won the strife; When torches light his vaulted tomb, Broad gems flash out and crowns illume The clay-cold brow undecked in life. ..... [top] O, loved and lost! Thy patient toil Had robed our cause in victory's light; Our country stood redeemed and bright, With not a slave on all her soil. 'Mid peals of bells and cannon's bark, And shouting streets with flags abloom, Sped the shrill arrow of thy doom, And, in an instant, all was dark! ..... A martyr to the cause of man, His blood is Freedom's Eucharist, And in the world's great hero list His name shall lead the van. Yes! ranked on Faith's white wings unfurled In Heaven's pure light, of him we say, "He fell on the self-same day A Greater died to save the world." |