The Life of Abraham Lincoln (Arnold)/Chapter XVIII

We now approach the turning point in this great civil war. Up to 1863, the fortunes of the conflict had been so varied; victory and defeat had so alternated, that neither party to the struggle could point to anything absolutely decisive. After the Union defeats at Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, the world of spectators seemed to think the probabilities of success were with the rebels. But in the summer of 1863, the tide turned, and a series of successes followed the national armies, which rendered their triumph only a question of time. Before entering upon a narration of these successes, we must turn for a brief space from the camp and battle field to the halls of Congress.

During this entire conflict, public opinion was guided, and largely controlled, by the pen and the tongue of the President. No voice was so potent as his, either in Congress or elsewhere, to create and guide public opinion. His administration was continually assailed by the democratic party, and criticised, often with asperity and injustice, by the leading members of his own party. The great leaders of the press were fault-finding, unjust, and often unfriendly. This threw upon him, in addition to all his other great difficulties and cares, the burden of explaining and defending the measures of his administration. He made many speeches, and wrote many letters, in addition to his messages and state papers. His frankness and sincerity, his unselfish patriotism, and his great ability as a speaker and writer, were never more strikingly illustrated than in those speeches and writings.

When Congress convened, in December, 1862, the President communicated the fact of his proclamation of the 22d of September. The absolute necessity of national union was never presented in a more statesmanlike manner than in this message. He says:

"A nation may be said to consist of its territory, its people, and its laws. The territory is the only part which is of certain duration.  'One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh, but the earth abideth forever.'  That portion of the earth's surface which is owned and inhabited by the people of the United States, is well adapted to be the home of one national family; and it is not well adapted for two, or more.  Its vast extent, and its variety of climate and productions, are of advantage, in this age, for one people, whatever they might have been in former ages. Steam, telegraphs, and intelligence, have brought these to be an advantageous combination for one united people...

"There is no line, straight or crooked, suitable for a national boundary, upon which to divide. Trace through, from East to West, upon the line between the free and slave country, and we shall find a little more than one-third of its length are rivers, easy to be crossed, and populated, or soon to be populated thickly upon both sides; while nearly all its remaining length are merely surveyor's lines, over which people may walk back and forth, without any consciousness of their presence. No part of this line can be made any more difficult to pass by writing it down on paper or parchment as a national boundary. The fact of separation, if it comes, gives up on the part of the seceding section the fugitive slave clause, along with all other constitutional obligations upon the section seceded from, while I should expect no treaty stipulations would ever be made to take its place.

"But there is another difficulty. The great interior region, bounded east by the Alleghenies, north by the British dominions, west by the Rocky Mountains, and south by the line along which the culture of corn and cotton meets, and which includes part of Virginia, part of Tennessee, all of Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana, Michigan, Wisconsin, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Iowa, Minnesota, and the territories of Dakota, Nebraska, and part of Colorado, already has above ten million people, and will have fifty millions within fifty years, if not prevented by any political folly or mistake. It contains more than one-third of the country owned by the United States, certainly more than one million square miles. Once half as populous as Massachusetts already is, it would have more than seventy-five million people. A glance at the map shows that, territorially speaking, it is the great body of the republic. The other parts are but marginal borders to it, the magnificent region sloping west from the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific, being the deepest, and also the richest in undeveloped resources. In the production of provisions, grains, grasses, and all which proceed from them, this great interior region is naturally one of the most important in the world. Ascertain from statistics the small proportion of the region which has, as yet, been brought into cultivation, and also the large and rapidly increasing amount of its products, and we shall be overwhelmed with the magnitude of the prospect presented. And yet this region has no sea-coast, touches no ocean anywhere. As part of one nation, its people may find, and may forever find their way to Europe by New York, to South America and Africa by New Orleans, and to Asia by San Francisco. But separate our common country into two nations, as designed by the present rebellion, and every man of this great interior region is thereby cut off from some one or more of these outlets, not, perhaps, by a physical barrier, but by embarrassing and onerous trade regulations."

Lincoln uttered the convictions, the sentiments, and the unwavering determination of a vast majority of the people of the West, when he declared that the "portion of the earth's surface called the United States is adapted to be the home of one national family, and not for two or more."

Lincoln had come to be recognized as not only the leading mind of the Mississippi Valley, but of the republic, and he declared with authority that there could be "no peace except on the basis of national unity." He closes this most statesmanlike paper with these words:

"I do not forget the gravity which should characterize a paper addressed to the Congress of the nation by the Chief Magistrate of the nation. Nor do I forget that some of you are my seniors, nor that many of you have more experience than I in the conduct of public affairs. Yet I trust that in view of the great responsibility resting upon me, you will perceive no want of respect to yourselves in any undue earnestness I may seem to display... The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion. As our case is new, so we must think anew and act anew. We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country.

"Fellow citizens, we cannot escape history. We, of this Congress and this administration, will be remembered in spite of ourselves. No personal significance, or insignificance, can spare one or another of us. The fiery trial through which we pass will light us down, in honor or dishonor, to the latest generation.  We say we are for the Union. The world will not forget that we say this.  We know how to save the Union. The world knows we do know how to save it. We--even we here--hold the power and bear the responsibility. In giving freedom to the slave we assure freedom to the free--honorable alike in what we give and what we preserve. We shall nobly save, or meanly lose, the last, best hope of earth. Other means may succeed, this could not fail. The way is plain, peaceful, generous, just--a way which, if followed, the world will forever applaud, and God must forever bless."

At this session of Congress an enrollment bill providing that all able bodied citizens, black as well as white, should be liable to military duty, and subject to be drafted into service, was passed. The Confederates had nearly a year before passed a much more stringent conscription law. The democratic party opposed vehemently the bill. Senator Kennedy, of Maryland, said: "I stand in the midst of the ruins of the republic. I deplore that I can see no hope from the black gloomy cloud of convulsion and ruin by which we are surrounded."

A law was also passed at this session admitting West Virginia into the Union, upon condition of the abolition of slavery. The great civil war called into exercise, by the Executive and Congress, a class of powers called war powers; powers dormant until the exigencies arose, demanding their exercise, and of the existence of which many of the statesmen of the republic had been unconscious. The people, educated to an appreciation of the full value of the quiet securities of liberty embraced in Magna Charta, and still more perfectly in the Constitution of the United States, were always jealous of the exercise of extraordinary powers. Those safeguards of liberty: freedom of the press, liberty of speech, personal security protected by the writ of habeas corpus, an independent judiciary, a speedy and fair trial by jury, the old, time-honored principles of the common law that no person should be deprived of life, liberty, or property but by due and impartial process of law and judgment of his peers; these great principles were the foundations of our government. They were revered as sacred, and no people were ever more jealous or watchful of every encroachment upon them. In these principles the President, as a lawyer, had been educated, and he was slow and reluctant to assume the exercise of the vast and novel and ill-defined powers growing out of insurrection and war. Imperative necessity forced him to the exercise of such powers. The rebels, and those who sympathized with them, claimed all the rights of citizens. They claimed that even while waging war against the Constitution, they should enjoy all the rights of citizenship under it; that while they made war on the government, they could claim its protection as citizens. Mr. Lincoln was reluctant to proclaim martial law, even where conspirators were plotting treason and organizing rebellion. He suffered the rebels, Breckenridge and others, to talk rebellion and organize treason at the national capital without arrest, and then to leave and join the rebel armies. But the public safety finally compelled him to exercise the powers necessary to preserve the life of the republic. He saved Maryland to the Union, and prevented a bloody civil war among its citizens, by causing General McClellan to arrest the Maryland Legislature, when it was about to pass an act of secession. He proclaimed martial law, suspended the writ of habeas corpus, and caused persons to be summarily arrested who held criminal intercourse with the enemy. The suspension of the writ of habeas corpus is authorized by the Federal Constitution, "when in cases of rebellion or invasion the public safety may require it." But who is to judge when the public safety does require it? Congress may authorize the Executive to exercise this power. But the exigency and necessity for its exercise may arise when Congress is not in session. If so, may the President, or a military commander, do it when and where public safety demands it? These, and cognate questions, were most earnestly discussed by the public press, in Congress, and before judicial tribunals; and these discussions may be regarded as settling the question that the President may rightfully exercise this power when and where such necessity exists, and that of this necessity he must in the first instance judge.

The case of Vallandigham, who was arrested, tried by court martial, found guilty of expressing in public speeches disloyal sentiments, and sentenced to confinement during the war, was very much discussed. Public meetings were held at Albany, New York, and in Ohio, by the democratic friend of Vallandigham, and memorials were drawn up and presented to the President, asking him to restore Vallandigham to liberty. To these memorials the President made full and careful replies, in which, with the clearness, earnestness, and great ability for which his papers were distinguished, he discussed the questions involved. These papers of the President went far towards satisfying the public mind that such arrests were but the proper exercise of the legal powers of the Executive. In these papers there is exhibited that clear, simple statement and argument, by which Mr. Lincoln always made himself perfectly understood by the mass of the people, and by which he rarely failed to carry conviction. He said:

"'Of how little value the constitutional provisions I have quoted will be rendered, if arrests shall never be made until defined crimes shall have been committed, may be illustrated by a few notable examples. General John C. Breckenridge, General Robert E. Lee, General Joseph E. Johnston, General John B. Magruder, General William B. Preston, General Simon B. Buckner, and Commodore Franklin Buchanan, now occupying the very highest places in the rebel war service, were all within the power of the government since the rebellion began, and were nearly as well-known to be traitors then as now. Unquestionably if we had seized and held them, the insurgent cause would be much weaker. But no one of them had then committed any crime defined in the law. Every one of them, if arrested, would have been discharged on habeas corpus were the writ allowed to operate. In view of these and similar cases, I think the time not unlikely to come, when I shall be blamed for having made too few arrests rather than too many... Long experience has shown that armies cannot be maintained unless desertion shall be punished by the severe penalty of death. The case requires, and the law and the Constitution sanctions, this punishment. Must I shoot a simple-minded soldier-boy who deserts, while I must not touch a hair of a wily agitator who induces him to desert? This is none the less injurious when effected by getting a father, or brother, or friend into a public meeting, and there working upon his feelings till he is persuaded to write the soldier-boy that be is fighting in a bad cause, for a wicked administration of a contemptible government, too weak to arrest and punish him if he shall desert. I think that, in such a case, to silence the agitator and save the boy is not only constitutional, but withal a great mercy.'"

This correspondence satisfied all the loyal people that these war powers would be used by the President only to the extent of maintaining the government, that the rights of no individual would be wantonly violated, and that the liberties of the people were entirely safe in the hands of Abraham Lincoln.

After a very full and able discussion in the Senate and in the House, a law was passed on the 3d of March, 1863, authorizing the President, whenever during the existence of the rebellion the public safety might require, to suspend the writ of habeas corpus throughout the United States, or any part thereof.

The President often spoke upon the absolute necessity that our country should be the home of "one national family, and no more." His convictions on this subject so ably presented to Congress in December, 1862, were often expressed. To restore this so necessary union, the President and his military advisers planned the campaign of 1863. To open the Mississippi by capturing Vicksburg was the great objective point of the campaign in the West. The President was unquestionably the best informed person in the republic concerning its military condition. His rooms at the White House were full of maps and plans, every movement was carefully traced on these maps, and no subordinate was so completely advised of, and master of the military situation as the Commander in Chief. To open the Mississippi, as has been stated, by the capture of the stronghold of Vicksburg, was the great objective point of the campaign in the West, and in the East to destroy the army of Lee, and seize the rebel capital.

Lincoln selected General Grant to lead the difficult enterprise against Vicksburg. There were those high in position, who at that time charged Grant with habits of intoxication, and sought to shake the confidence of the President in him. To such Lincoln replied: "If Grant is a drunkard I wish some of my other generals would give the same evidence of intoxication."

On the 2nd of February, 1863, Grant arrived in the vicinity of Vicksburg, and assumed command. After various fruitless expedients, in April, he finally resolved to send his army by land from Milliken's Bend to a point below Vicksburg, and to run his transports and gunboats past and below the menacing batteries of that city. A large fleet of ironclad gunboats and transports were prepared, protected as far as possible by cotton bales, hay, railroad iron, timber, and chains. The night of the 16th of April was selected for the attempt. Everything was in readiness before dark. The plan was that the iron-clads should pass down in single file--with intervals between them, and when opposite the batteries, should engage them, and that then, under cover of smoke, the transports should endeavor to pass.

The country had been growing impatient of the long delays at Vicksburg. The cutting of the canals and the opening of the bayous had proved failures. All the attempts thus far to flank the stronghold, seemed likely to prove abortive, and great anxiety existed in the public mind. After all these failures, Grant, with a persistence which has marked his whole career, conceived a plan without parallel in military history for its boldness and daring. This was to march his army and send his transportation by land on the Louisiana side of the Mississippi, from Milliken's Bend to a point below Vicksburg; then to run the bristling batteries of that rebel Gibraltar, exposed to its hundreds of heavy guns, with his transports; then to cross the Mississippi below Vicksburg, and returning, attack that city in the rear.

The crews of the frail Mississippi steamers used as transports, conscious of the hazardous service, with one exception refused to go. Volunteers were called for by General Grant, and no sooner was the call made, than from the noble army of the West, pilots, engineers, firemen, and deck-hands offered themselves for the dangerous adventure in such numbers, that it became necessary to select those needed from the crowd of volunteers by lot. Such was the generous emulation among the soldiers to participate in the dangerous service, that one Illinois boy who had drawn the coveted privilege of exposing his life, was offered one hundred dollars in greenbacks for his chance; but he refused to take it, and held his post of honor.

Ten o'clock at night was the hour at which the fleet was to start. At that hour the camps of the Union army were hushed into silence, watching with intense anxiety the result. All was obscurity and silence in front of the city. Soon an indistinct, shadowy mass was seen, dimly, noiselessly floating down the river. It was the flag-ship, the iron-clad Benton. It passed on into the darkness, and another and another followed, until ten black masses, looking like spectral steamers, came out of the darkness, passed by, and disappeared down the river. No sound disturbed the stillness. Every eye was fixed on the space in front of the city; every ear intent, expecting each moment to see the gleam and flash of powder and fire, and hear the thunders of cannon. For three-quarters of an hour the silence was unbroken, when first came a sharp line of light from the extreme right of the batteries, and in an instant after, the whole length of the bluffs was one blaze of fire and roll of crashing thunder. The light exhibited the fleet squarely in front of the city; and immediately its heavy guns were heard in reply, firing directly upon the city. Clouds of smoke enveloped the gunboats, and then the transports, putting on full steam, plunged down the river. The batteries were passed in an hour and a quarter; and although some of the transports were injured and one set on fire, no person on either of them was killed; and General Grant immediately prepared and sent the remaining transports. Meanwhile, the army marched around and struck the river below Vicksburg, nearly opposite Grand Gulf. This was a strong position on the east bank of the Mississippi, below the mouth of the Big Black. It was hoped that Admiral Porter with the gunboats could reduce the batteries at Grand Gulf, after which the troops would be taken over in the transports, and carry the place by assault. But, after nearly five hours bombardment, Admiral Porter drew off his fleet. Grant, after consulting with Porter, adopted a new expedient; this was to march his troops three miles below Grand Gulf, and after night the transports were to run these batteries, as they had done those of Vicksburg. When darkness came, Porter renewed the attack with his gunboats; and amidst the thunder and smoke of this attack, the transports went safely by, and reaching the camps below, cheered the soldiers as they approached, by responding "all's well" to their anxious inquiries. In the morning they were in readiness to transfer the army to the long coveted position below Vicksburg.

Early the next morning, General Grant, on the Benton, led the way to a landing for his eager army. Going ashore at Bruinsburg, he found faithful and intelligent negroes to guide him in the important movements which were now to be made. Instantly the debarcation of the troops commenced, and the line of march was taken up towards Port Gibson. Before two o'clock the next morning, May 1, 1863, the enemy was encountered, and the battle of Port Gibson was fought, the first of the series of battles and victories resulting in the investment and capture of Vicksburg. The attitude of Grant was certainly a bold one. He was in the enemy's country, a fortified city above him, a fortified city below him, a large army gathering under Johnston to assail him and relieve Vicksburg, with another large army to protect and garrison its fortifications. Celerity was of the highest importance. No better troops ever met an enemy than those he commanded; and he was most ably seconded by Sherman, McClernand, McPherson, Logan, Blair, Osterhaus, and others.

To the indomitable will, energy, and activity of Grant, striking the enemy in detail, beating him in every field, giving him no time for concentration, the country is indebted for these wonderful successes, not surpassed by any other achievements in military history. General Grant seemed fully conscious that success in this, the boldest movement of the war, depended upon striking quick and rapid blows, and hence he himself set the example of taking no baggage. He took neither horse nor servant, nor camp chest, nor overcoat, nor blanket; his entire personal baggage, according to Washburne, who accompanied him during the six eventful and decisive days from his landing, was a tooth brush. During this time, his fare was the common soldier's rations, and his bed the ground, with no covering but the sky.

The victory at Port Gibson was so important that General Grant issued a general order thanking his soldiers, and in a few spirited words advised them that more difficulties and privations were before them, but called upon them to endure these manfully. "Other battles," said he, "are to be fought; let us fight them bravely. A grateful country will rejoice at our success, and history will record it with immortal honor." Moving rapidly to the north, General Grant interposed his forces between the army of Johnston, seeking to relieve Vicksburg, and the garrison under Pemberton, seeking a junction with Johnston. Then followed the rapid marches, brilliant with gallant charges and deeds of heroic valor, the victories won in quick succession at Raymond, on the 12th; at Jackson, the capital of Mississippi, on the 14th; at Baker's Creek and Champion Hills on the 16th, and at the Big Black River on the 17th, and finally closing with driving the enemy into his works at Vicksburg, and with the aid of Admiral Porter and the gunboats, completely investing the city. And now, on the 19th of May, Grant and his army were before the stronghold. Jefferson Davis, conscious of the importance of this position, had implored every man who could do so to march to Vicksburg. General Grant now determined to take the city by assault. On the 22d of May, the attack was most gallantly made. The assaulting columns moved promptly and steadily upon the rebel works, and stood for hours under a withering fire, failing only because the position could not possibly be taken by storm.

Then, with tireless energy, with sleepless vigilance night and day, with battery and rifle, with trench and mine, the army made its approaches, until the enemy, worn out with fatigue, exhausted of food and ammunition, and driven to despair, finally laid down their arms.

On the 3d of July, General Grant received a communication from Lieutenant-General Pemberton, commanding the rebel forces, proposing an armistice and commissioners to arrange terms of capitulation. This correspondence resulted in the surrender of the city and garrison of Vicksburg on the 4th of July, 1863. This capture and the preceding battles resulted in a loss to the rebels of thirty-seven thousand taken prisoners, including fifteen general officers; ten thousand killed and wounded, and ammunition for sixty thousand men.

Thus perseverance, skill, and valor triumphed. The stronghold of the Mississippi was taken. No language can describe the tumultuous joy which thrilled the hearts of the gallant men who had won this great prize. The exultation of the army is illustrated in the glowing language of the young and brave McPherson, in his congratulatory address issued on the 4th of July.

"The achievements of this hour," said he, "will give a new meaning to this memorable day; and Vicksburg will heighten the glow in the patriot's heart which kindles at the mention of Bunker Hill and Yorktown. The dawn of a conquered peace is breaking before you. The plaudits of an admiring world will hail you wherever you go."

President Lincoln fully comprehended what he termed "the almost unappreciable services" of Grant in the capture of Vicksburg. He wrote to him the following letter, which illustrates the generous feelings of his heart:

"'My dear General: I do not remember that you and I ever met personally. I write this now as a grateful acknowledgment for the almost inestimable service you have done the country. I wish to say a word further. When you first reached the vicinity of Vicksburg, I thought you should do what you finally did, march the troops across the neck, run the batteries with the transports, and thus go below; and I never had any faith except a general hope that you knew better than I, that the Yazoo Pass expedition and the like could succeed. When you got below and took Port Gibson, Grand Gulf, and vicinity, I thought you should go down the river and join General Banks: and when you turned northward, east of the Big Black, I thought it was a mistake. I now wish to make the personal acknowledgment that you were right and I was wrong.'"

No military enterprise recorded in history presented greater difficulties to be overcome, none the success of which was ever more fatal to an enemy, nor is there any which exhibits in a higher degree, courage, endurance, military skill, bold conception, fertility of resource, and rapidity of execution, than that which triumphed in the fall of Vicksburg. Take it altogether it was perhaps the most brilliant operation of the war, and establishes the reputation of Grant as one of the greatest military leaders of any age.

Let us now return to the armies near Washington. After the defeat of the Union army at Chancellorsville, Lee assumed the offensive, and advanced again into Maryland. He now made the greatest preparations for striking a decisive blow, and hoped to carry the war into Pennsylvania and the North. Hooker, marching on an interior line, covered Washington.

On the 28th of June, General Lee, having entered Pennsylvania, occupied Chambersburg. Learning that Hooker's army had crossed the Potomac and was advancing northward, he gave orders for the concentration of his forces at Gettysburg. On the 27th, General Hooker, in consequence of a refusal by Halleck to order the troops at Harper's Ferry to join him, asked to be relieved, and Halleck gladly issued the order by which he was relieved, and the command of the army transferred to General Meade. On that day, the headquarters of the Union army were at Frederick City, and those of the slaveholder's army were at Hagerstown. The Union force was thus interposed between the rebels, and Baltimore and Washington. On the 30th, General Meade issued an address to his army, in which he pointed out the important issue involved in the approaching conflict. "Homes, firesides, and domestic altars are involved. The army has fought well heretofore; it is believed it will fight more desperately and bravely than ever."

On Wednesday, General Reynolds of the First Corps, marching directly through the town of Gettysburg, came unexpectedly upon the enemy. The heroic General Wadsworth, who had left his princely estate on the banks of the Genessee, in Western New York, to offer himself as a volunteer for liberty and union, led the advance, the division of General Doubleday, one of the subordinates of Anderson at Fort Sumter, followed and formed on the left, with Robinson on the right. On discovering the enemy in force, Reynolds sent word to Howard to hasten up the Eleventh; that Eleventh, that since Chancellorsville had been in disgrace; a disgrace that must now be wiped out.

The advance encountered a heavy force of the enemy, and was forced back, but retired in good order. The enemy rashly pressing too far on the center, the left closed in upon them, and took many prisoners. As General Reynolds was pressing up to the front, he was killed by a sharpshooter. At 1 P.M., the gallant Howard, riding in advance of his corps, reached the field and assumed command, leaving his corps in charge of the gallant young soldier and eloquent German orator, Carl Schurz. The death of Reynolds left Doubleday in command of the First Corps. At half-past two, from the heights of Cemetery Hill, could be seen the long line of rebel gray-backs under Ewell, the famous brigade which Stonewall Jackson had so often led to victory. As they advanced they were met by a fire so sharp as to cause them to fall back. Twice the rebels were repulsed, but being re-enforced, the remnants of the First Corps were ordered back to the town. In moving, the left of the Eleventh was exposed, and a heavy rebel advance compelled it to fall back in some confusion. The enemy pursued and took possession of the town, while the two corps took possession of the western slope of the hill.

While the Union troops were being driven by superior numbers through the town, a rapid and general charge might possibly have destroyed these two corps; but it was not made, and their commander, the one-armed hero Howard, posted them on a commanding eminence south of the town, called Cemetery Hill, and prepared for the shock. When the line of gray again advanced, it met a shower of balls and shells which arrested its progress. It had been a fearful and bloody fight; one single brigade, which under Wadsworth held the left, going into battle with one thousand, eight hundred and twenty men, came out with only seven hundred.

Thus ended the first day's conflict. Each army was being concentrated as rapidly as possible. Howard had seized and occupied Cemetery Hill, south and a little east of the village. To the right of it, the hills extended to Rocky Creek, and across this was Wolf Hill; while to the left, the hills extended south, and bent a little westward to the Round Top. The Union army was posted on these hills, in shape like a crescent, with its center on Cemetery Hill, its left extending to Round Top, and its right to Rock Creek. It had the advantage of position, and was so placed that the wings and center could readily support each other.

At dark on Wednesday evening, the Third and Twelfth Corps came in and were posted, the former on the ridge extending south and to the left of Cemetery Hill, and the latter on the same ridge as it curved to the right. The Third came up during Wednesday night, and the Fifth at 10 o'clock Thursday morning. At 11 o'clock at night, General Meade arrived upon the field and placed the troops in order of battle. Howard with the Eleventh, and what was left of the First and the Second under the gallant Hancock, constituted the center. The Twelfth under Slocum held the right. The Third under Sickles, and the Fifth, after its arrival, were placed on the extreme left. The Union army was so compact, that troops could be readily removed from either wing to the other, or to the center, as they might be needed. General Meade had his headquarters on the ridge, in the rear of the cemetery, and more than one hundred guns bristled along the crest of these hills fronting the enemy, and were confronted by one hundred and fifty guns of the rebels. An effort was made to induce Meade to assume the offensive and attack on Thursday morning, pouring his whole army on the rebel center, and smashing through, dividing it into two parts; but Meade wisely preferred to await the attack in his strong position. Thus the bright July morning wore away, and no movement of importance was made until near the middle of the afternoon.

Lee had ordered a general attack by Longstreet on the Union left and center, to be followed by Hill. While preparations were being made in the rebel army for this movement, Sickles sent Berdan's regiment of sharp-shooters into the woods in his front, and they, advancing a mile, descried the gray-backs moving large masses to turn the Union left. Longstreet was bringing his whole corps, nearly a third of the slaveholder's army, to precipitate it upon the Union left. Sickles immediately moved out and occupied another ridge, which he thought a more commanding position than the one in which he had been placed, but which did not connect with the main force. His left rested upon Round Top hill. On came the rebels, and both armies opened with artillery. Then came the wild yell, and the charge of the gray-backs was met by a storm of grape and canister, and their line shattered and sent whirling back; immediately another line came from the forest, and another and weightier charge was approaching. General Warren, who as chief of staff was watching the fight, sent for re-enforcements. Sedgwick and the fighting Sixth were not yet available. Sickles held on desperately; aid after aid was dispatched for help; but from the clouds of smoke and flame it was seen that Sickles was being pushed back. He finally yielded so far as to occupy his first position, and the Fifth Corps came to his support, while the brigades, winding down among the rocks to the front, braced up his lines, and like a rock turned back the assaulting columns. Longstreet was repulsed, and then Anderson moved upon the Union center. With massed columns, and the well known yell with which the rebels ever charged, they come swarming on. Hancock repelled the assault. Sickles, severely wounded, was borne from the front, and Birney, the abolitionist, assumed command.

The conflict in the center raged fiercely. Hancock was wounded in the thigh, and Gibbon in the shoulder. The First and Second wavered; the rebels pressed to the muzzle of the batteries, shot down the artillery horses, and the fight was hand to hand, when the banners of the welcome Sixth Corps, under the brave Sedgwick, came up. Although wearied with a march of thirty-two miles in seventeen hours, they hurried forward with shouts to the rescue, and the enemy were hurled back, repulsed--destroyed. The right had been weakened to sustain the left and center; and now Ewell made a dash upon Slocum on the extreme right. For a short time the attack was most ferocious; but a part of the Sixth and some of the First came again at the critical moment, and the enemy, although they had succeeded in taking some positions held by Slocum, were finally driven back, and the day closed with the rebels repulsed from every part of the field. It had been a bloody day. Sickles's and Hancock's corps had been badly shattered, both these commanders wounded, and Sickles had a leg shot off. For miles, every house and barn was filled with the wounded and the dying. Thursday had gone and yet the result was not decided. Friday came, and Northern persistence was to crown with victory the three days struggle.

Early in the morning a file of soldiers marched slowly to the rear, bearing tenderly upon a stretcher the heroic Sickles; yesterday leading his corps with the dash and spirit for which he was ever distinguished; to-day, with his right leg amputated, grave and stoical, his cap drawn over his face, and a cigar in his mouth. The enemy opened at daylight with artillery. At dawn, General Slocum made an attack on Ewell, who commanded, it will be remembered, Stonewall Jackson's men, and the fight was maintained with equal spirit on both sides, Slocum being aided by Sykes's and Humphreys's divisions of the Third Corps. Ewell's forces were at length driven back, and at eleven o'clock, A. M., there was quiet on the bloody field.

It has been stated that the key to the Union position was Cemetery Hill. Lee determined to make a desperate effort to get possession of this hill. With this purpose he directed upon it the concentric fire of more than one hundred guns, ranged in a half circle. The lull had continued until nearly 1 P.M. Meade, Howard, and other leaders were watching for the attack, when at one o'clock, the thunder of a hundred heavy guns burst upon the position. It was held by the Eleventh and Twelfth Corps. The storm came suddenly. Soldiers and officers worn with battle and seeking rest were scattered upon the grass. Many were struck as they lay; some died with cigars in their mouths; some at their dinners on the crest of the hill, and some with letters and photographs of friends in their hands; taking a last fond look before the battle which all knew was to be decisive, and fatal to many. Horses were shot down as they stood quietly waiting for their riders to mount. The air in an instant was filled with missiles and splinters; the earth and rocks torn up and shattered; the air filled with clouds of dust; the branches of trees were torn off, and the grave stones and monuments scattered in wild confusion. Within five minutes after the terrific rain of death began, the hill was cleared in all its unsheltered places of every living thing. All but the dead sought shelter. For an hour and a half, this terrible concentrated fire on Cemetery Hill was continued, and was replied to with equal vigor by the batteries on the ridge and range of hills. After the cannonade had continued about three hours, General Howard slackened his fire to allow his guns to cool. It was supposed by the enemy that our batteries were silenced, and that the time for an irresistible charge had come. The divisions of Virginians under General Picket led the advance, supported by large bodies of other troops. As the leading columns of the advance emerged from the woods and became fully exposed to the Union fire, they wavered. But Picket's brigades did not falter; although they were exposed to the terrific fire of grape, canister, and shell from at least forty guns, with a bravery worthy of old Virginia, they still held on their way steady and firm, closing up their ranks as their comrades were cut down. They crossed the Emmettsburg road, and approached the masses of infantry. General Gibbon, then in command of the Second Corps, walked along his line bare-headed, shouting: "Hold your fire, boys, they are not near enough yet." Still they came on, and with fixed bayonets swept up to the rifle pits. "Now fire!" thundered Gibbon. A blaze of death all along the line of the Second Corps followed; down fell the rebels, but the survivors did not yet falter; they charged on the pits, pressing up to the very muzzles of the artillery; but here they were met with such storms of grape and canister, that the survivors threw down their arms and surrendered, rather than run the gauntlet of the retreat. Three thousand prisoners were taken. The result is thus stated by General Meade in a dispatch dated at 8:30 P.M.:

"'The enemy opened at one o'clock, P.M., from about one hundred and fifty guns. They concentrated upon my left center, continuing without intermission for about three hours, at the expiration of which time they assaulted my left center twice, being upon both occasions handsomely repulsed with severe loss to them, leaving in our hands nearly three thousand prisoners.'"

When the repulse was complete, whole companies and regiments threw down their arms and surrendered, to avoid the terrific fire to which they were exposed. The battle was over. The army of the Potomac had again vindicated its bravery and its endurance. As General Meade rode proudly yet sadly over the bloody field, a band passing, struck up, "Hail to the Chief."

The next morning was as sweet, fresh, and balmy, as though the storm of death had not been sweeping for three long days over these quiet, pastoral Pennsylvania hills and valleys. Alas! must the historian forever, to the last period of recorded time, recount these terrible scenes of slaughter, suffering, and death!

Lee was in no condition to renew the attack. His ammunition was short, the spirit of his army broken, and yet Meade made no vigorous pursuit. The rebel loss was fourteen thousand prisoners, and probably twenty-five thousand in killed, wounded, and missing. The Union loss was about twenty-three thousand in all. Few battles in ancient or modern times have been more severely contested; there have been few where greater numbers were engaged, and where there was a greater loss of life; none where more heroic valor was displayed on both sides. Had Sheridan, or Grant, or McPherson, commanded in place of Meade, it is believed Lee's army would never have recrossed the Potomac.

We have seen with how grateful a heart Lincoln returned thanks to Grant and his brave officers and soldiers in the West. He received the intelligence of the victory of the army of the Potomac with emotions not less warm. On the 4th of July, he issued the following announcement:

"'The President of the United States announces to the country, that the news from the army of the Potomac, up to 10 o'clock P.M. of the 3d, is such as to cover the army with the highest honor--to promise great success to the cause of the Union--and to claim the condolence of all for the many gallant fallen; and that for this, he especially desires that on this day, 'He whose will, not ours, should ever be done,' be everywhere remembered and reverenced with the profoundest gratitude.'"

On the evening of the 4th of July, the popular exultation over these successes found expression in a serenade to the President. Mr. Lincoln said: "I do most sincerely thank Almighty God for the occasion of this call;" and ever mindful of the principles of the Declaration of Independence, which were the basis of his political creed, he said: "How long ago is it? Eighty odd years since, on the 4th of July, for the first time in the history of the world, a nation by its representatives assembled, and declared as a self-evident truth, that all men are created equal. That was the birthday of the United States of America." He then alluded to the other extraordinary events in American history which had occurred on the 4th of July--the death of Jefferson and Adams on that day, and said: "And now at this last 4th of July just passed, we have a gigantic rebellion, at the bottom of which, is an effort to overthrow the principle that all men are created equal. We have the surrender of a most important position and an army on that very day." And then he alluded proudly and gratefully to the battles in Pennsylvania, on the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd of July, as victories over the cohorts of those who opposed the Declaration of Independence.

On the 15th of July, the President issued his proclamation, breathing throughout a spirit of grateful reverence to God, of supreme love of country and of liberty, and sympathy with the afflicted and the suffering. He said:

"'It has pleased Almighty God to hearken to the supplications and prayers of an afflicted people. and to vouchsafe to the army and the navy of the United States, victories on the land and on the sea, so signal and so effective, as to furnish reasonable ground for augmented confidence that the Union of these States will be maintained, their Constitution preserved, and their peace and prosperity permanently restored. But these victories have been accorded not without sacrifice of life, limb, health, and liberty, incurred by brave, loyal, and patriotic citizens. Domestic affliction, in every part of the country, follows in the train of these fearful bereavements. It is meet and right to recognize and confess the presence of the Almighty Father, and the power of His hand, equally in these triumphs and these sorrows.'"

He then invited the people to assemble on the 4th of August, for thanksgiving, praise, and prayer, and to render homage to the Divine Majesty, for the wonderful things He had done in the nation's behalf; and he called upon the people to invoke His Holy Spirit to subdue the anger which had produced and so long sustained a needless and cruel rebellion; to change the hearts of the insurgents; to guide the councils of the government with wisdom, and to visit with tender care and consolation those who through the vicissitudes of battles and sieges had been brought to suffer in mind, body, or estate, and finally to lead the whole nation through the paths of repentance and submission to the Divine Will, to unity and fraternal peace.

With these most important victories East and West, a load was lifted from the troubled heart of the President. His form, bowed and almost broken with anxiety, once more was erect; his eye grew visibly brighter, and his whole aspect became again hopeful. But it is not proper to suppress the fact that he was greatly chagrined that Meade permitted Lee and his army again to escape across the Potomac.

In the autumn of this year of battles and of Union victories, the ground adjoining the village cemetery of Gettysburg, a part of the field on which this great battle was fought, was purchased, and prepared for consecration as a national burying ground for the gallant soldiers who fell in that conflict. Here in this little grave yard,

"'The rude forefathers of the hamlet slept.'"

Here, too, slept the hosts of dead of one of the great battles of the world; a battle which saved the republic, and in which heroes and patriots worthy of Thermopylæ or Marathon had given life for their country.

Here, on the 19th of November, with solemn, touching, and most impressive ceremonies, this ground was consecrated to its pious purpose. The President, his Cabinet, the officials of the state of Pennsylvania, governors of states, foreign ministers, officers of the army and navy, soldiers and citizens, gathered in great numbers to witness the proceedings. Edward Everett, late Secretary of State, and Senator from Massachusetts, an orator and scholar whose renown had extended over the world, was selected to pronounce the oration. He was a polished and graceful speaker, and worthy of the theme and the occasion. President Lincoln, while in the cars on his way from the White House to the battlefield, was notified that he would be expected to make some remarks also. Asking for some paper, a rough sheet of foolscap was handed to him, and, retiring to a seat by himself, with a pencil, he wrote the address which has become so celebrated; an address which for appropriateness and eloquence, for pathos and beauty, for sublimity in sentiment and expression, has hardly its equal in English or American literature. Everett's oration was a polished specimen of consummate oratorical skill. It was memorized, and recited without recurring to a note. It was perhaps too artistic; so much so, that the audience sometimes during its delivery forgot the heroic dead to admire the skill of the speaker before them. When at length the New England orator closed, and the cheers in his honor had subsided, an earnest call for Lincoln was heard through the vast crowd in attendance. Slowly, and very deliberately, the tall, homely form of the President rose; simple, rude, his careworn face now lighted and glowing with intense feeling. All unconscious of himself, absorbed with recollections of the heroic dead, he adjusted his spectacles, and read with the most profound feeling the following address:

"Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

"Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war.  We are met to dedicate a portion of it as the final resting-place of those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

"But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate--we cannot consecrate--we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here; but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work that they have thus far so nobly carried on. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to the cause for which they here gave the last full measure of devotion, that we here highly resolve that the dead shall not have died in vain; that the nation shall, under God, have a new birth of freedom; and that government of the people, by the people, and for the people shall not perish from the earth."

Before the first sentence was completed, a thrill of feeling, like an electric shock, pervaded the crowd. That mysterious influence called magnetism, which sometimes so affects a popular assembly, spread to every heart. The vast audience was instantly hushed, and hung upon his every word and syllable. When he uttered the sentence: "the world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here," every one felt that it was not the "honored dead" only, but the living actor and speaker, that the world for all time to come would note and remember, and that he, the speaker, in the thrilling words he was uttering, was linking his name forever with the glory of the dead. He seemed so absorbed in honoring the "heroic sacrifices" of the soldiers, as utterly to forget himself, but all his hearers realized that the great actor in the drama stood before them, and that the words he was speaking would live as long as the language; that they were words which would be recalled in all future ages, among all peoples; as often as men should be called upon to die for liberty and country.

Thus were the immortal deeds of the dead commemorated in immortal words. There have been four instances in history in which great deeds have been celebrated in words as immortal as themselves; the well-known epitaph upon the Spartans who perished at Thermopylae, the words of Demosthenes on those who fell at Marathon, the speech of Webster in memory of those who died at Bunker Hill, and these words of Lincoln in honor of those who laid down their lives on the field of Gettysburg.

As he closed, and the tears, and sobs, and cheers which expressed the emotions of the people subsided, he turned to Everett, and grasping his hand, said: "I congratulate you on your success." The orator gracefully replied: "Ah, Mr. President, how gladly would I exchange all my hundred pages to have been the author of your twenty lines."