See the endless processions of covered wagons drawn by horses, by oxen,--men and boys and girls on foot, mothers and babes inside. See the glimmering camp fires at night; see the thousands up with the sun and away, leaving the perfume of coffee on the morning air, and sometimes leaving the new-made grave of wife or child. Listen, and you will hear the cry of "Gold!" and you will see many thousands crossing the great plains, climbing the mountains and pressing on to the Pacific.
Think of the toil, the courage it has taken to possess this land!
Think of the ore that was dug, the furnaces that lit the nights with flame; of the factories and mills by the rushing streams.
Think of the inventions that went hand in hand with the work; of the flails that were changed to threshers; of the sickles that became cradles, and the cradles that were changed to reapers and headers--of the wooden plows that became iron and steel; of the spinning wheel that became the jennie, and the old looms transformed to machines that almost think--of the steamboats that traversed the rivers, making the towns that were far apart neighbors and friends; of the stages that became cars, of the horses changed to locomotives with breath of flame, and the roads of dust and mud to highways of steel, of the rivers spanned and the mountains tunneled.
Think of the inventions, the improvements that changed the hut to the cabin, the cabin to the house, the house to the palace, the earthen floors and bare walls to carpets and pictures--that changed famine to feast--toil to happy labor and poverty to wealth.
Think of the cost.
Think of the separation of families--of boys and girls leaving the old home--taking with them the blessings and kisses of fathers and mothers.
Think of the homesickness, of the tears shed by the mothers left by the daughters gone. Think of the millions of brave men deformed by labor now sleeping in their honored graves.
Think of all that has been wrought, endured and accomplished for our good, and let us remember with gratitude, with love and tears the brave men, the patient loving women who subdued this land for us.
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 Caesar 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.
1896.
LADIES and Gentlemen: This is our country.
The legally expressed will of the majority is the supreme law of the land. We are responsible for what our Government does. We cannot excuse ourselves because of the act of some king, or the opinions of nobles. We are the kings. We are the nobles. We are the aristocracy of America, and when our Government does right we are honored, and when our Government does wrong the brand of shame is on the American brow.
Again we are on the field of battle, where thought contends with thought, the field of battle where facts are bullets and arguments are swords.
To-day there is in the United States a vast congress consisting of the people, and in that congress every man has a voice, and it is the duty of every man to inquire into all questions presented, to the end that he may vote as a man and as a patriot should.
No American should be dominated by prejudice. No man standing under our flag should follow after the fife and drum of a party. He should say to himself: "I am a free man, and I will discharge the obligations of an American citizen with all the intelligence I possess."
I love this country because the people are free; and if they are not free it is their own fault.
To-night I am not going to appeal to your prejudices, if you have any.
I am going to talk to the sense that you have. I am going to address myself to your brain and to your heart. I want nothing of you except that you will preserve the institutions of the Republic; that you will maintain her honor unstained. That is all I ask.
I admit that all the parties who disagree with me are honest. Large masses of mankind are always honest, the leader not always, but the mass of people do what they believe to be right. Consequently there is no argument in abuse, nothing calculated to convince in calumny. To be kind, to be candid, is far nobler, far better, and far more American. We live in a Democracy, and we admit that every other human being has the same right to think, the same right to express his thought, the same right to vote that we have, and I want every one who hears me to vote in exact accord with his sense, to cast his vote in accordance with his conscience. I want every one to do the best he can for the great Republic, and no matter how he votes, if he is honest, I shall find no fault.
But the great thing is to understand what you are going to do; the great thing is to use the little sense that we have. In most of us the capital is small, and it ought to be turned often. We ought to pay attention, we ought to listen to what is said and then think, think for ourselves.
Several questions have been presented to the American people for their solution, and I propose to speak a little about those questions, and I do not want you to pretend to agree with me. I want no applause unless you honestly believe I am right.
Three great questions are presented: First, as to money; second, as to the tariff, and third, whether this Government has the right of self-defence. Whether this is a Government of law, or whether there shall be an appeal from the Supreme Court to a mob. These are the three questions to be answered next Tuesday by the American people.
First, let us take up this money question. Thousands and thousands of speeches have been made on the subject. Pamphlets thick as the leaves of autumn have been scattered from one end of the Republic to the other, all about money, as if it were an exceedingly metaphysical question, as though there were something magical about it.
What is money? Money is a product of nature. Money is a part of nature.