Oliver

ORATION OF GOVERNOR O. P. MORTON.

WHEN the Monument we are about to dedicate shall have crumbled into dust; when the last vestige of this Cemetery shall have been obliterated by the hand of time; when there shall be nothing left of all that we see now but the hills, the valleys, the streams and the distant mountains, the great battle which here took place, with its far-reaching consequences, will still live in history. Nations have their birth, youth, maturity, old age and death; and ours, though we call it eternal, and our institutions immortal, will be no exception. But though nations must pass away, and all physical evidence of their existence be lost, yet may they live through all time in the brightness of their examples, in the glory of their deeds, and in the beneficence of their institutions. These are the inheritances they leave to the farcoming centuries.

When the pyramids of Egpyt shall have sunk to the level of the Nile; when the last remnant of Grecian architecture, the last inscribed block of marble shall have perished, men will still read of Moses and the Pass of Thermopyla. Monuments, after all, are but for the present, and may only instruct a few generations. But a glorious deed is a joy forever.

Six years ago, day after to-morrow, the Union army was stretched along these heights from Culp's Hill to Round Top-a human breakwater, against which the great tidal wave of rebellion was to dash in vain, and be thrown back in bloody spray and broken billows. The Rebel chieftain, flushed by his success at Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, forgetting that his triumphs had arisen from the fact that he had fought upon his own soil, behind natural fastnesses, having the advantage of choice of position and knowledge of the country, had insolently crossed the Potomac and invaded the loyal State of Pennsylvania. But from this invasion he was hurled back in bloody defeat, and in disordered flight crossed the Potomac, never again to set foot upon the soil of a loyal State. On yonder high ground across the plain was

drawn out in battle array the Rebel host. It was an open field; the terms were nearly equal; and steady Northern valor, animated by the love of country, was to meet the boasted chivalry of the South fighting for slavery, sweep it from the field, strip it of its meretricious plumes, and give the Confederacy a fatal wound.

It is the solid qualities of men and nations that win in the long run. The chivalry of false pride, the arrogance and vanity of a favored class, whose elevation is only seen by the depression of others, may, by spasmodic efforts for a time dazzle the eyes of the world, but cannot long maintain a successful contest with truth, justice, and the strength of free institutions. This was illustrated in the war of the Rebellion, and in the battle of Gettysburg. This battle was not won by superior strategy or military genius, although managed with great courage and skill by General Meade and his subordinate commanders, who left nothing undone that the occasion seemed to require, and who made the best use of the forces and opportunities at their command.

It was a three days' battle, with varying fortunes the first and second days, in which the steadiness of Northern valor, animated by the convictions of a just cause, and the love and pride of a great and free country, finally wore out, bore down, and swept from the field the Rebel masses, composed of men of equal physical courage, but whose moral powers were impaired by the absence of that strong conviction of the right which is a vast element of success.

In yonder Cemetery, among the white tombstones," where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap" over the buried generations of the hamlet, was planted the artillery whose fearful peals would have aroused the slumbering dead were it not ordained that they should awake only at the sound of the last trump. Just behind the crest of the hill, in the old cemetery, stood the tent of our glorious commander, the imperturbable Meade, calmly dictating his orders, while the storm of shot and shell flew over and around him. From yonder steeple, southwest of the village, the Rebel chieftain surveyed the field, directed his host, and from time to time saw his advancing columns reel and wither, and finally retreat in hopeless flight and confusion. The flower of the Rebel army had been chosen for the assault, and were massed to bring overwhelming numbers to bear on the point of attack. The Rebel chieftain brought together more than one hundred and fifty pieces of artillery, with which, for three hours, he poured a terrific fire upon that part of the Union lines he intended to assault.

It was a grand and solemn sight, when line after line, with steady step and in perfect order, emerged from the smoke and swept across the field towards the Union army. It was a moment of vast peril and import, of which both parties were powerfully conscious. If the Rebel assault was successful and we lost the battle, Washington and Philadelphia were within their grasp. The North invaded, defeated, and demoralized would do we know not what. Foreign nations would be encouraged to intervene, and the South, elated, would put forth more desperate efforts than before. If the assault failed and we gained the battle, the remnant of the Rebel hosts must seek safety in flight, and a blow would be inflicted upon the Confederacy from which it could scarcely recover. These thoughts were present in the minds of all, and gave heroic courage to assault and to resist. But now the fire of our artillery is opened upon the advancing columns, and the shot and shell tore through their ranks, making great gaps, which were quickly filled up by those who came behind. But onward they came with desperate courage, until soon the fierce fire of musketry on both sides. mingled with the horrid roar of artillery. Then, with terrific yells, they rushed upon our lines; but the impetus of their assault was suddenly checked. They were met with a courage as desperate as their own, and a fierce hand-to-hand conflict took place. The result was not long doubtful. Their thinned and broken columns were flung back across the plain in headlong flight, leaving thousands of prisoners in our hands, the ground covered with dead and dying, and wet and muddy with blood. We had gained the day, though at fearful cost. The victory was great and mighty in its consequences. The prestige of the Rebel army was broken, never to be recovered, and the wound inflicted upon the Confederacy was never staunched until it had bled to death.

The next day was the Fourth of July, and the most memorable since that of 1776. On another field it witnessed the surrender of another large Rebel army to the great chieftain of the war, now our illustrious President. The capture of Vicksburg opened the navigation of the Mississippi river, and severed from the Confederacy all that part of its territory lying west of that river. The loss to the Confederacy was irreparable. It was cut off from its chief source of supplies. The limits of the war were greatly circumscribed. The mass of the Rebel population was demoralized and began to despair. From that day it became manifest that the Rebellion could not succeed, unless the Southern people exhibited that endurance, patience under adversity, and high devotion that will sacrifice everything for the cause, which, as it

turned out, they did not possess. By our victories at Gettysburg and Vicksburg the Rebellion lost its prestige in Europe, and all hopes of foreign intervention.

At the foot of the Monument sleep the heroes of the battle. Here lies the father, the husband, the brother and the only son. In far off homes, among the hills of New England, on the shores of the lakes, and in the valleys and plains of the West, the widow, the orphan, and the aged parents are weeping for these beloved dead. Many of the tombs are marked "unknown," but they will all be recognized on the morning of the resurrection. The unknown dead left behind them kindred, friends, and breaking hearts. None die so humble but leave some one to mourn. "Perished at Gettysburg, in defence of their country," nine hundred and seventynine men of whose names, homes, or lineage there is no trace left on earth. Doubtless the recording angel has preserved the record, and when the books are opened on the last day their names will be found in letters of light on the immortal page of heroes who died that their country might live.

In the fields before us are the graves of the Rebel dead, now sunk to the level of the plain," unmarked, unhonored and unknown." They were our countrymen— of our blood, language, and history. They displayed a courage worthy of their country, and of a better cause, and we may drop a tear to their memory. The news of this fatal field carried agony to thousands of Southern homes, and the wail of despair was heard in the everglades and orange groves of the South. Would to God that these men had died for their country and not in fratricidal strife, for its destruction. Oh, who can describe the wickedness of rebellion, or paint the horrors of civil war! The Rebellion was madness. It was the insanity of States, the delirium of millions, brought on by the pernicious influence of human slavery. The people of the South were drunk with the spoils of the labor of four millions of slaves. They were educated in the belief that chivalry and glory were the inheritance only of slaveholders; that free institutions and free labor begat cowardice and servility; that Northern men were sordid and mercenary, intent only upon gain, and would not fight for their Government or principles. And thus educated, and thus believing, they raised their hands to strike the Government of their fathers and to establish a new constitution, the chief corner-stone of which was to be human slavery.

The lust of power, the unholy greed of slavery, the mad ambition of disappointed statesmen impelled the people of the South to a fearful crime, which drenched the land with fraternal blood, that has been punished as few crimes have

ever been in this world, but out of which, we are assured, that God in His providence will bring forth the choicest blessings to our country and to the human race; even as of the dead. Liberty universal, soon to be guaranteed and preserved by suffrage universal; the keeping of a nation's freedom to be entrusted to all the people, and not to a part only; the national reproach washed out in rivers of blood, it is true; but the sins of the world were atoned by the blood of the Saviour, and the expiation of blood seems to be the grand economy of God founded in wisdom, to mortals inscrutable. Resurrection comes only from the grave. Death is the great progenitor of life. From the tomb of the Rebellion a nation has been born again. The principles of liberty, so gloriously stated in the Declaration of Independence, had hitherto existed in theory. The Government had ever been a painful contradiction to the Declaration. While proclaiming to the world that liberty was the gift of God to every human being, four millions of the people were held in abject and brutalizing slavery, under the shadow of the national flag. In the presence of these slaves, professions of devotion to liberty were vain and hypocritical. The clanking of their chains ascended perpetually in contradiction to our professions, and the enemies of republicanism pointed contemptuously to our example. But all this is passed. Slavery lies buried in the tomb of the Rebellion. The Rebellion, the offspring of slavery, hath murdered its unnatural parent, and the perfect reign of liberty is at hand.

With the ratification of the fifteenth article, proposed by Congress as an amendment to the Constitution of the United States, which we have every reason to believe will soon be completed, impartial suffrage will be established throughout the land. The equal rights of men will be recognized, and the millennium in liberty and government will be realized, to which our fathers looked forward with hopefulness and joy.

The principles of liberty once planted in the earth, and ripened into their rich fruits, will be borne through all the ages, blessing mankind to the latest generation, even as the seeds first sown by the hand of God in paradise, were blown by the winds from continent to continent, until the world was clothed with verdure, fruits and flowers.

The prospect for liberty throughout the world was never so bright as it is to-day. In all civilized lands the grand armies of freedom are on their march. And they are allied armies. Victory to one will give prestige and confidence to the others. With some, progress will be slow; they will encounter disaster and defeat, but will again