They're Not Dead, But Living

1914

On Memorial Day

There is no death. There are no dead. In every town in America they are garlanding graves; lilacs from the tree beside mother's door, peonies from a great red mound which has been the pride of the place for years, snowballs and syringa from shrubs which father planted when the place was new.

But beneath the friendly grasses under the low mound marked with some dear name, there lies not one dead hero. Here is laid the dust fallen from his garments, here perchance may still be found a keepsake not yet indistinguishable. For all the years that we have mourned this brave spirit, he has lived only a little way apart in a planet to us invisible, alert, progressing, rejoicing in a plan universal, and at peace and in harmony with the law of love eternal. — Exchange.


Remember Lincoln's Message

That man honors the memory of the dead on Memorial day who, in Lincoln's words, dedicates himself "to the unfinished work" which must be done before this nation shall be worthy of its opportunities, and of the devotion of those who gladly died for it.

Memorial Day — A Widening Memorial

1904

Like everything else, holidays undergo a gradual change in spirit and observance. When Decoration day was first set apart many persons predicted that its observance would last only so long as the generations which knew the participants of the Civil War. It was supposed that there would be little present-day enthusiasm for decorating graves of Revolutionary veterans, no matter how great the popular admiration for their valor and sacrifices.

The change of name was wise. Memorial day is a broader term than the old one, and the significance of dedicating one day in the year to the memory of those who gave their lives for their country has been more broadly and fittingly recognized. Memorial day is coming to represent a solemn, serious aspect of our national life, just as the Fourth of July stands for the joyful and the exuberant aspect; and for a nation, as for the individual, "It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting."

As other wars come in the long line of history, the graves of their heroes also will be decorated. There is already a tendency to hold on this day memorial services for firemen and others who fall in public service. Gradually, too, and perhaps unconsciously, the occasion has assumed something of the character of All Souls' day in Paris. Not only do we place flowers on those hallowed spots which are marked by flags, but we leave a wreath upon the graves of our own dear ones who have gone before; and this is well.

One day in the year we can appropriately give to the memory of that great army of the dead whose banners are the lily and the rose, and of which the armies of the Blue and of the Gray are but divisions. — Youth's Companion.

Gettysburg Field of Battle Forever Consecrated

1907

At Gettysburg

Field of Battle Is Forever Consecrated to the Highest Ideals of American Valor.

See Naples and die!" wrote an enthusiast, and gave a new vogue to a moribund old world city by a sententious saying. But to the American whose soul is alive to patriotic emotion, a more fitting exhortation would be, see Gettysburg and live! And so seeing, live to be consecrated anew to American ideals. Realize and drink in from that historic fount the immortal lesson of "what they did here," that the nation might live — a grand object lesson, made manifest so that he that runs may read by its 600 monuments and tablets dedicated there to American valor.

A thrilling page it is that may be read in these silent yet speaking symbols which mark the various positions held by the 640 organizations that fiercely contended for victory during those fervid July days of '63. And punctuating the long lines of marble and granite memorials that thickly strew the picturesquely diversified field imposingly stand out the colossal bronze images of the leading generals in the commanding stations each occupied.

All the historic landmarks, too, are there to-day. Away to the west the Lutheran seminary, still standing like a sentinel on the outpost, round which the waves of battle raged and spumed and from the cupola of which Reynolds and Buford watched Hill's advance debouching from the woods on either side of the Chambersburg pike; and, just beyond, the undulating plain and McPherson's wood, the scene and altar of sacrifice whereon the valiant first corps of Meade's army unstintedly poured out its libation of blood. To the east and south, Cemetery hill and its prolonged ridge, along which stand out those never to be effaced features of the landscape — the national cemetery, with its 3,575 graves of union dead, the clump of trees or "high water mark of the rebellion," whence Pickett's braves were hurled back in disaster and death; the "bloody angle," and the peach orchard, which season after season renews itself in blossom and fruit; the wheat field, yearly sown to the same crop, but no longer yielding its "harvest of death"; grim Devil's Den, a rocky, wood-tangled maze to-day as it was and has ever been since the red Indian and savage beast sought it for their lair; the same wooded heights of Little and Big Roundtop, partly denuded, yet with many surviving ancient trees scarred and broken and torn by solid shot and shell, or trunks pimpled by many bullets, but fruitful yet with leafy life.

Vanished only are the mangled corpses of the slain, the rushing columns of struggling foeman. the blazing lines, the crash of musketry and cannon's deafening roar, the dying groans and frantic, swelling cheers. With all these marvelously preserved vestiges of the battle still defining its varying fortunes, and with the graphic story of the guides, very little exercise of the imagination is needed even to a stranger, none at all to the veteran who fought there to reconstruct the scene, and once seen render its realization vividly impressed forever on the mind.

War Envelopes Used In Civil War Correspondence

1907

War Envelopes

The story of the civil war has been told and retold from platform and press, particularly on Memorial day, until the shelves of our libraries teem with the volumes of records of that epoch of our country's history.

In many a garret or family cabinet may be found some cap or portion of a garment worn during the strife by the soldier boy of the family; possibly the battered, bullet-pierced canteen may have its place.

To each or to all of these the grayhaired veteran may point his children at this memorial season, while telling them of the part he took in the struggle. But there is still another reminder of those years of national trial, simple though it may be, that serves to recall the spirit that prevailed before hostilities began, as well as to remind us of the progress of events during the development of those four years of bloody conflict. It is the stationery used in the correspondence between camp and fireside and between home and battlefield.

One envelope shows Gen. Scott to be the bulldog, with Jeff Davis as the smoking car, and the bone of contention as the city of Washington. The gamecock and shanghai envelope has no significance only as one turns to an issue of the Richmond Examiner of that period and reads, "The capture of Washington is perfectly within the power of Virginia and Maryland. The entire population pant for the onset. Our people can take it. They will take it, and Scott, the archtraitor, and Lincoln, the beast, combined, cannot prevent it. The just indignation of an outraged and deeply injured people will teach the Illinois ape to repeat his race and retrace his journey across the border of the free negro state still more rapidly than he came. And Scott, the traitor, will be given the opportunity at the same time to try the difference between Scott's tactics and the shanghai drill for quick movements."

The Ellsworth envelope was popular throughout the union, as was the "young man of 24 years" and his Chicago zouaves. His genuine energy and self-confidence had won the attention and admiration of the whole country.

Under the Blossoms of May — Memorial Day poetry

1907

Under the Blossoms of May
(By Chart A. Pitt, Bellingham, Wash.)

When the drum's lone beat sounds the "Last Retreat,"
To the star-sown fields o'er head,
And the veterans grey, are lain away,
In the city of the dead;
O'er their chambered town the sunshine gleams,
And the spring time breezes play,
Peaceful their slumbers, and happy their dreams,
Under the blossoms of May.

The stars look down o'er their silent town,
Where the marble shafts gleam white;
And shadows dim, come drifting in,
From the stronghold of the night.
No bugle's blare can wake them there,
Nor banners flaunting gay,
There's no "measured tread" in the streets of the dead,
Under the blossoms of May.

—The Gazette, Stevens Point, Wisconsin, May 22, 1907