lic expense, and in the most honorable recognized, but not, therefore, unhonored, manner. Their bones were carefully dead, and of those whose remains could gathered up from the funeral pyre where not be recovered. On the fourth day their bodies were consumed, and brought the mournful procession was formed; home to the city. There, for three days mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, led before the interment, they lay in state, the way, and to them it was permitted, beneath tents of honor, to receive the by the simplicity of ancient manners, to votive offerings of friends and relatives- utter aloud their lamentations for the flowers, weapons, precious ornaments, beloved and the lost; the male relatives painted vases, wonders of art, which, and friends of the deceased followed; after 2,000 years, adorn the museums of citizens and strangers closed the train. modern Europe-the last tributes of sur Thus marshalled, they moved to the place viving affection. Ten coffins of funeral of interment in that famous Ceramicus, cypress received the honorable deposit, the most beautiful suburb of Athens, one for each of the tribes of the city, which had been adorned by Cimon, the and an eleventh in memory of the un- son of Miltiades, with walks and foun tains and columns-whose groves were that illustrious plain, ready to put off filled with altars, shrines, and temples- the shoes from my feet, as one that stands whose gardens were kept forever green by the streams from the neighboring hills, and shaded with the trees sacred to Minerva and coeval with the foundations of the city-whose circuit enclosed "the olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trilled his thick-warbled note the summer long," whose pathways gleamed with the monuments of the illustrious dead, the work of the most consummate masters that ever gave life to marble. There, beneath the overarching plane trees, upon a lofty stage erected for the purpose, it was ordained that a funeral oration should be pronounced by some citizen of Athens, in the presence of the assembled multitude. Such were the tokens of respect required to be paid at Athens to the memory of those who had fallen in the cause of their country. For those alone who fell at Marathon a peculiar honor was reserved. As the battle fought upon that immortal field was distinguished from all others in Grecian history for its influence over the fortunes of Hellas-as it depended upon the event of that day whether Greece should live, a glory and a light to all coming time, or should expire, like the meteor of a moment-so the honors awarded to its martyr-heroes were such as were bestowed by Athens on no other occasion. They alone, of all her sons, were entombed upon the spot which they had rendered famous. Their names were inscribed upon ten pillars erected upon the monumental tumulus which covered their ashes (where, after 600 years, they were read by the traveller Pausanias), and although the columns, beneath the hand of time and barbaric violence, have long since disappeared, the venerable mound still marks the spot where they fought and fell on holy ground-who have gazed with respectful emotion on the mound which still protects the dust of those who rolled back the tide of Persian invasion, and rescued the land of popular liberty, of letters, and of arts, from the ruthless foe-stand unmoved over the graves of our dear brethren, who so lately, on three of these all important days which decided a nation's history-days on whose issue it depended whether this august republican Union, founded by some of the wisest statesmen that ever lived, cemented with the blood of some of the purest patriots that ever died, should perish or endurerolled back the tide of an invasion, not less unprovoked, not less ruthless, than that which came to plant the dark banner of Asiatic despotism and slavery on the free soil of Greece? Heaven forbid! And could I prove SO insensible to every prompting of patriotic duty and affection, not only would you, fellow-citizens, gathered many of you from distant States, who have come to take part in these pious offices of gratitude-you respected fathers, brethren, matrons, sisters, who surround me-cry out for shame, but the forms of brave and patriotic men who fill these honored graves would heave with indigna tion beneath the sod. We have assembled, friends, fellow-citizens, at the invitation of the executive of the central State of Pennsylvania, seconded by the governors of seventeen other loyal States of the Union, to pay the last tribute of respect to the brave men who, in the hard-fought battles of the first, second, and third days of July last, laid down their lives for the country on these hillsides and the plains before us, and whose remains have been gathered into the cemetery which we consecrate this day. As my eye ranges over the fields whose sods were so lately moistened by the blood of gallant and loyal men, I feel, as never before, how truly it was said of old that it is sweet and becoming to die for one's country. I feel, as never before, how justly from the dawn of hisAnd shall I, fellow-citizens, who, after tory to the present time men have paid an interval of twenty-three centuries, a the homage of their gratitude and adyouthful pilgrim from the world unknown miration to the memory of those who to ancient Greece, have wandered over nobly sacrificed their lives that their "That battle-field where Persia's victim-horde First bowed beneath the brunt of Hellas' sword." fellow-men may live in safety and in thousands must be encountered by the honor. And if this tribute were ever due, firm breasts and valiant arms of other to whom could it be more justly paid than to those whose last resting-place we this day commend to the blessing of Heaven and of men? For consider, my friends, what would have been the consequences to the country, to yourselves, and to all you hold dear, if those who sleep beneath our feet, and their gallant comrades who survive to serve their country on other fields of danger, had failed in their duty on those memorable days. Consider what, at this moment, would be the condition of the United States if that noble Army of the Potomac, instead of gallantly and for the second time beating back the tide of invasion from Maryland and Pennsylvania had been itself driven from these wellcontested heights, thrown back in confusion on Baltimore, or trampled down, discomfited, scattered to the four winds. What, in that sad event, would have been the fate of the Monumental City, of Harrisburg, of Philadelphia, of Washington, the capital of the Union, each and every one of which would have lain at the mercy of the enemy, accordingly as it might have pleased him, spurred by passion, flushed with victory, and confident of continued success, to direct his course? For this we must bear in mind-it is one of the great lessons of the war, indeed of every war-that it is impossible for a people without military organization, inhabiting the cities, towns, and villages of an open country, including, of course, the natural proportion of non-combatants of every sex and of every age, to withstand the inroads of a veteran army. What defence can be made by the inhabitants of villages mostly built of wood, of cities unprotected by walls, nay, by a population of men, however high-toned and resolute, whose aged parents demand their care, whose wives and children are clustering about them, against the charge of the war-horse whose neck is clothed with thunder-against flying artillery and batteries of rifled cannon planted on every commanding eminence-against the onset of trained veterans led by skilful chiefs? No, my friends, army must be met by army, battery by battery, squadron by squadron; and the shock of organized thousands, as well organized and as skilfully led. It is no reproach, therefore, to the unarmed population of the country to say that we owe it to the brave men who sleep in their beds of honor before us, and to their gallant surviving asscciates, not merely that your fertile fields, my friends of Pennsylvania and Maryland, were redeemed from the presence of the invader, but that your beautiful capitals were not given up to the threatened plunder, perhaps laid in ashes, Washington seized by the enemy, and a blow struck at the heart of the nation. Who that hears me has forgotten the thrill of joy that ran through the country on the 4th of July-auspicious day for the glorious tidings, and rendered still more so by the simultaneous fall of Vicksburg-when the telegraph flashed through the land the assurance from the President of the United States that the Army of the Potomac, under General Meade, had again smitten the invader? Sure I am that with the ascriptions of praise that rose to Heaven from twenty million of freemen, with the acknowledgments that breathed from patriotic lips throughout the length and breadth of America, to the surviving officers and men who had rendered the country this inestimable service, there beat in every loyal bosom a throb of tender and sorrowful gratitude to the martyrs who had fallen on the sternly contested field. Let a nation's fervent thanks make some amends for the toils and sufferings of those who survive. Would that the heartfelt tribute could penetrate these honored graves! In order that we may comprehend, to their full extent, our obligations to the martyrs and surviving heroes of the Army of the Potomac, let us contemplate for a few moments the train of events which culminated in the battles of the first days of July. Of this stupendous rebellion, planned, as its originators boast, more than thirty years ago, matured and prepared for during an entire generation, finally commenced because for the first time since the adoption of the Constitution, an election of President had been effected without the votes of the South (which retained, however, the control of the two other branches of the government), the occupation of the national capital, with the seizure of the public archives and of the treaties with foreign powers, was an essential feature. This was, in substance, within my personal knowledge, admitted, in the winter of 1860-61, by one of the most influential leaders of the rebellion; and it was fondly thought that this object could be effected by a bold and sudden movement on the 4th of March, 1861. There is abundant proof, also, that a darker project was contemplated, if not by the responsible chiefs of the rebellion, yet by nameless ruffians, willing to play a subsidiary and murderous part in the treasonable drama. It was accordingly maintained by the rebel emissaries in England, in the circles to which they found access, that the new American minister ought not, when he arrived, to be received as the envoy of the United States, inasmuch as before that time Washington would be captured, and the capital of the nation and the archives and muniments of the government would be in the possession of the Confederates. In full accordance also with this threat, it was declared by the rebel Secretary of War, at Montgomery, in the presence of his chief and of his colleagues, and of 5,000 hearers, while the tidings of the assault on Sumter were travelling over the wires on that fatal 12th of April, 1861, that before the end of May "the flag which then flaunted the breeze," as he expressed it, "would float over the dome of the Capitol at Washington." In pursuance of this original plan of the leaders of the rebellion, the capture of Washington has been continually had in view, not merely for the sake of its public buildings, as the capital of the Confcderacy, but as the necessary preliminary to the absorption of the border States, and for the moral effect in the eyes of Europe of possessing the metropolis of the Union. I allude to these facts, not perhaps enough borne in mind, as a sufficient refutation of the pretence, on the part of the rebels, that the war is one of selfdefence, waged for the right of self-government. It is in reality a war originally levied by ambitious men in the cottongrowing States, for the purpose of drawing the slave-holding border States into the vortex of the conspiracy, first by sympathy-which in the case of southeastern Virginia, North Carolina, part of Tennessee, and Arkansas, succeeded-and then by force, and for the purpose of subjugation, Maryland, western Virginia, Kentucky, eastern Tennessee, Missouri; and it is a most extraordinary fact, considering the clamors of the rebel chiefs on the subject of invasion, that not a soldier of the United States has entered the States last named, except to defend their Union-loving inhabitants from the armies and guerillas of the rebels. In conformity with these designs on the city of Washington, and notwithstanding the disastrous results of the invasion of 1862, it was determined by the rebel government last summer to resume the offensive in that direction. Unable to force the passage of the Rappahannock, where General Hooker, notwithstanding At the time this threat was made the the reverse at Chancellorsville, in May, rebellion was confined to the cotton-grow- was strongly posted, the Confederate gening States, and it was well understood by eral resorted to strategy. He had two them that the only hope of drawing any objects in view. The first was by a rapid of the other slave-holding States into the movement northward, and by manœuvring conspiracy was in bringing about a con- with a portion of his army on the east flict of arms, and "firing the heart of the side of the Blue Ridge, to tempt Hooker South" by the effusion of blood. This was from his base of operations, thus leading declared by the Charleston press to be the him to uncover the approaches to Washobject for which Sumter was to be assault- ington, to throw it open to a raid by ed; and the emissaries sent from Rich- Stuart's cavalry, and to enable Lee himmond, to urge on the unhallowed work, self to cross the Potomac in the neighborgave the promise, that, with the first drop hood of Poolesville and thus fall upon the of blood that should be shed, Virginia capital. This plan of operations was would place herself by the side of South wholly frustrated. The design of the Carolina. rebel general was promptly discovered by General Hooker, and, moving with great rapidity from Fredericksburg, he preserved unbroken the inner line, and stationed the various corps of his army at all the points protecting the approach to Washington, from Centerville up to Leesburg. From this vantage ground the rebel general in vain attempted to draw him. In the mean time, by the vigorous operation of Pleasonton's cavalry, the cavalry of Stuart, though greatly superior in numbers, was so crippled as to be disabled from performing the part assigned it in the campaign. In this manner General Lee's first object, namely, the defeat of Hooker's army on the south of the Potomac, and a direct march on Washington, was baffled. The second part of the Confederate plan, which is supposed to have been undertaken in opposition to the views of General Lee, was to turn the demonstration northward into a real invasion of Maryland and Pennsylvania, in the hope that, in this way. General Hooker would be drawn to a distance from the capital, and that some opportunity would occur of taking him at a disadvantage, and, after defeating his army, of making a descent upon Baltimore and Washington. This part of General Lee's plan, which was substantially the repetition of that of 1862, was not less signally defeated, with what honor to the arms of the Union the heights on which we are this day assembled will forever attest. Much time had been uselessly consumed by the rebel general in his unavailing attempts to outmanœuvre General Hooker. Although General Lee broke up from Fredericksburg on June 3, it was not till the 24th that the main body of his army entered Maryland. Instead of crossing the Potomac, as he had intended, east of the Blue Ridge, he was compelled to do it at Sheppardstown and Williamsport, thus materially deranging his entire plan of campaign north of the river. Stuart, who had been sent with his cavalry to the east of the Blue Ridge to guard the passes of the mountains, to mask the movements of Lee, and to harass the Union general in crossing the river, having been very severely handled by Pleasonton at Beverly Ford, Aldie, and Upperville, instead of being able to retard General Hooker's advance, was driven himself away from his connection with the army of Lee, and was cut off for a fortnight from all communications with it-a circumstance to which General Lee in his report alludes more than once with evident displeasure. Let us now rapidly glance at the incidents of the eventful campaign: A detachment from Ewell's corps, under Jenkins, had penetrated on June 15 as far as Chambersburg. This movement was intended at first merely as a demonstration, and as a marauding expedition for supplies. It had, however, the salutary effect of alarming the country; and vigorous preparations were made not only by the general government, but here in Pennsylvania and in the sister States, to repel the inroad. After two days passed at Chambersburg, Jenkins, anxious for his communications with Ewell, fell back with his plunder to Hagerstown. Here he remained for several days, and then, having swept the recesses of the Cumberland Valley, came down upon the eastern flank of the South Mountain, and pushed his marauding parties as far as Waynesboro. On the 22d the remainder of Ewell's corps crossed the river and moved up the valley. They were followed on the 24th by Longstreet and Hill, who crossed at Williamsport and Sheppardstown and, pushing up the valley, encamped at Chambersburg on the 27th. In this way the whole rebel army, estimated at 90,000 infantry, upward of 10,000 cavalry, and 4,000 or 5,000 artillery, making a total of 105,000 of all arms, was concentrated in Pennsylvania. Up to this time no report of Hooker's movements had been received by General Lee, who, having been deprived of his cavalry, had no means of obtaining information. Rightly judging, however, that no time would be lost by the Union army in the pursuit, in order to detain it on the eastern side of the mountains in Maryland and Pennsylvania, and thus preserving his communications by the way of Williamsport, he had, before his own arrival at Chambersburg, directed Ewell to send detachments from his corps to Carlisle and York. The latter detachment, under Early, passed through this place on June 26. You need not, fellow |