low them after the battle of Gettyshurg, where so many of the best gave up their lives. You will meet them at Beverly Ford, at Culpeper, at Kelly's Ford, at Bristoe, at Rappahannock, and at Mine Run. Then, after the five long months of winter quarters, under the leadership of the nation's greatest commander-inchief, General Ulysses S. Grant, whose very name had become a synonym of victory, they march across the Rapidan, - and not to retreat over it again. You will find them at the Wilderness, at Todd's Tavern, at Spottsylvania, at Trevilian Station, at the North Anna, at Bethesda Church, at Cold Harbor, at Ream's Station, at the Weldon Railroad, at the explosion of the Mine, at Forts Hell and Steadman, and so on in all that series of engagements which resulted in the tightening grip around Richmond and Petersburg.

Another year, 1865, opens, and the great armies are still in grim defiance, but not for long. You will then find Harvard's sons ready for action at Hatcher's Run, at Five Forks, at the occupation of Richmond and Petersburg, and finally at the great day of Appomattox Court House, April 9th, 1865. Among those present at this memorable surrender was the writer. At length the agony was over, and peace again dawned upon the land. Soon came the quiet march back to Washington, with no pickets out to sound the alarm of an expected attack. But during the march were brought the sad tidings of the assassination of our President, and rejoicings were for the time turned into mourning. The next event was the grand review at Washington of the armies of the East and of the West; and, that over, the mighty host was disbanded, and the soldiers returned to their peaceful avocations of work and business.

Now, the states and cities and colleges of the redeemed country vied in honoring their returned defenders, and naturally in this Harvard was not wanting. Great were the preparations made for Commemoration Day, July 21st, 1865, which the card I have states was "in honor of the students of Harvard College who have served in the army and navy during the rebellion."

Again we meet around the ancient buildings of the college yard, and under the shade of the graceful elms; and we have to marshal us Colonel Henry Lee, always youthful, always full of enthusiasm, - who, I have often thought, might appropriately be called the "Light Horse Harry" of the epoch and of Massachusetts. The occasion was graced by the presence of General Meade, who received the highest honorary gift of the university; but its distinguishing feature was the Commemoration Ode recited by James Russell Lowell.

It was about this time tnat the plan was originated, or at least put into practical shape, of erecting a memorial in honor of the sons of Harvard who had fallen during the war in defence of the Union. It was finally decided to have it a hall for the annual meetings of alumni, to be used during the college terms as a dining, or commons hall. In addition to this, there was to be a theatre for the exercises of Class Day, Commencement, and other occasions of a similar character, while between the two was to be the memorial or monumental vestibule. For this, committees were formed, and an appeal for subscriptions was issued, not only among the alumni and students by classes, but also to the friends of the university and the public. The result was so gratifying that in a short time the work was begun. The year 1874 saw the completion of that beautiful and impressive structure, which now nearly fills the old delta, with the statue of John Harvard since added, the gift of a citizen of Cambridge, as an appropriate guardian of the place.

So on June 23d, 1874, we can go to another grand gathering, the day when the building is to be dedicated. All was in order, the reports of the committees were made by their respective chairmen, Henry B. Rogers and John G. Palfrey, after a prayer had been offered by Henry W. Bellows. Then came the oration by Charles Francis Adams, and the poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes, while the benediction was pronounced by the venerable James Walker, so beloved by all. Truly this was a galaxy of great men not to be surpassed anywhere in the land.

The

More than twenty-five years have elapsed since the terrible war came to an end; and let us enter with uncovered head the memorial vestibule and look at the record as it confronts us on the tablets. Over them float the flags of the nation, and on every Decoration Day they are garlanded by the Grand Army of the Republic. A few will suffice to tell the story of the war. Let us stop at the first, and then go to the last; and strange it is that, while naturally I never knew most of those whose names are recorded on the memorial tablets, with these two I have a vivid personal association.

The first one is of the class of 1828, James Samuel Wadsworth. His family and mine had been intimate for years, and so I feel impelled to relate what passed before my eyes at the battle of the Wilderness. He commanded a division of the Fifth Corps, after the First, to which he belonged, had been consolidated with it. I can see him on the first day of that strange fight as plainly as I see those now about

evidently in disorder. Something had gone wrong, and the old General - I can well say that, for he was then ten years older than I am to-day, was rushing about with drawn sword, rallying his men around a flag which he had placed in position. He seemed to do all the work himself, and I could not resist the temptation of mounting my horse, riding up to him, saluting, giving my name, and asking if I could be of any use. I thought that at least I might try to stop his men from passing to the rear, through the two guns of my section of the battery. He thanked

me, and in a short time he had reorganized his broken division, and was ready for more fighting; and this came the next day, May 6th, when he received a wound in

the head, from which he died two days later. Ah, brave old hero, well, well indeed can Harvard honor your memory!

The last one is Cabot Jackson Russell, of the class of 1865. We were playmates in boyhood, and often have we climbed over the walls and roofs of many of the buildings in what is now Hamilton Place, Boston. Here it was I had my first fall, which nearly broke an

me. The battery of which I was a lieutenant was in position just in front of the Lacy house, to the left of the turnpike, and not far from the headquarters of General Grant and General Meade. We were covering an open piece of land, while the fighting was taking place in the tangled woods, a halfmile or so in advance. General Wadsworth led his division through this field, with ranks full and banners waving, to the woods, where we could distinctly hear the dread rattle of musketry. At length I noticed the men coming back, singly or

He

arm, in the yard of the house now next to Music Hall, which was just then being built. And what was his fate in the war? The tablet says, "July 18, 1863, Fort Wagner." was a captain in the 54th Mass. Regt., colored, and gave up his life before he was nineteen years old. One can scarcely appreciate to-day the meaning of what it was to die in the assault on Fort Wagner.

This takes us naturally to the hero of that heroic event, Colonel Robert Gould

Shaw, whose name you will see in the tablets of the class of 1860, — “the man of the golden locks who led the men of a darker hue." He led them valiantly to a repulse in the trenches of Fort Wagner, which was crowned and glorified by the greater victory of showing that the men of color could fight, and, if need be, die for their freedom and their country. Of him, while it is hardly necessary to go out of our own country to find words commensurate with his services, I can quote what an Englishman and a good friend of America, Thomas Hughes, said: "It was the grandest sepulchre earned by any soldier of this century."

Of the many names on the other tablets, one hundred and thirty-eight in all, and taken from all the departments of the University, Undergraduates, Law, Scientific, Medical, Divinity and Astronomical Observatory, for a paper like this only a few can be selected: Fletcher Webster, William Logan Rodman, Arthur Buckminster Fuller, Peter Augustus Porter, three Stevenses, the Reveres, Dwights, Lowells, Abbots, Perkinses, of whom there are two names for each; and then alone, Sargent, Peabody, Sedgwick, Shurtleff, Barstow, Mason, Haven, Ropes, Crowninshield, Mudge, Mills, Weston, Storrow, Paine, Coolidge, Heath, Peirce, Curtis, Washburn, Bowditch, Robbins, Parkman, Stevenson, Dearing, Ripley, Ritchie, Hooper, Ware, Goodwin, Vincent, Roe, Richardson, Dehone, Robeson, Grafton, Temple, Hall, and others.

In the banqueting hall for the students and the meetings of the alumni, you will find on the walls the portraits of many of Harvards' soldiers, while at the end are two busts, with suitable inscriptions, of General Charles Russell Lowell and General William Francis Bartlett, whose military careers were exceptionally distinguished and worthy of example. As you walk up and down that beautiful hall, the light of day, softened by the tints of the memorial windows that have been placed there by the various classes, falls down upon the floor and walls, and seems singularly to harmonize with the scene. It throws a halo of peace and serenity upon those represented in the building who at different times and in various

ways have contributed to the honor and advancement of the oldest and most venerated temple of learning in our land.

Before passing out of the memorial vestibule, I must ask you to stop again in front of the tablets of my class, that of 1863. I surely may be pardoned for thus singling these tablets. In addition to the three of whom I have already spoken, you will find Augustus Barker, who died on September 18, 1863, of wounds received the preceding day, from guerrillas, near Kelly's Ford, on the Rappahannock. He was then a captain in the 5th New York Cavalry.

Winthrop Perkins Boynton and William Dwight Crane. They had been intimate chums at college, and were officers of the 55th Mass. Regt., colored. By a curious. coincidence of fortune they were killed the same day, in the same engagement, that of Honey Hill, South Carolina, November 30, 1864: Boynton in command of his company, and Crane acting on the staff of Colonel Hartwell, who was in command of the brigade. Their bodies were never recovered, but their classmates in Boston later paid a proper tribute to their memory, at a meeting in the Parker House.

The next one is Henry French Brown, of whom little is known except that he enlisted as a private soldier in the 2d New Hampshire Volunteer Infantry, September 5, 1862, and died of disease contracted in the service, in Boston, March 3, 1863.

The last is another Stevens, Edward Lewis Stevens. After serving as a private in the 44th Mass., a nine months regiment, and returning in time for Class Day, he was early in 1864 commissioned second lieutenant in the 54th Mass. Regt., colored. He joined the regiment in Florida, and was promoted to first lieutenant, and killed while bravely fighting at Boykin's Mills, near Camden, South Carolina, April 18, 1865, which was in reality after the war was over, i e., after the surrender at Appomattox. He fell so near the enemy's works that it was not considered safe to try to recover his body, though several of his men volunteered to do so.

In a paper like this I can understand

that figures are not very interesting, but a few will tell the history of the service rendered by the sons of Harvard. Of those who were killed or died during the war, the class of 1860 stands at the head. Of one hundred and ten in the present quinquennial catalogue, sixty men were in the Army or Navy, and of them twelve have the star of death against their names. Next comes 1862, with eleven dead out of thirty-eight in the service, and ninety-seven in the catalogue. Then follows 1861, with fifty-six in the service, out of eighty-one, and of those nine dead. The classes of 1859 and 1863 lost each eight, the former having ninety-two on the catalogue, and forty taking part in the war, while of the latter, my class, out of one hundred and twenty graduates, forty-eight were at times defending the integrity of the nation. The class of 1864 lost seven, from ninety-nine in the catalogue, and forty-one in the service. The classes of 1858 and 1852 each lost six. From these we drop to three lost in the classes of 1848, 1854, 1856, and 1857; and two in the classes of 1846 and 1849, 1853, and 1865, with one in 1851 and several of the earlier classes.

As these pages pass under final review, we have to record the death of another of Harvard's most distinguished sons, General Charles Devens. From the beginning to the end of the war he was always on duty, was several times wounded, and was a type of the perfect soldier. I can speak of him feelingly, as my first service was with him, as a Volunteer Aid on his staff, when he was in command of the Invalid's Camp at Long Island, Boston Harbor, while recuperating from a wound received at Chancellorsville. This was a short time before I left for Virginia, at the end of the summer of 1863.

No mention has been made of what those who were in the Confederate Army or Navy did during those four terrible years, except that those who were in college at the outbreak of the secession movement left. I do not think any complete record or history of their careers has been made, but probably it will be some of these days. We all know with what persistent bravery they fought to the bitter end, and we can well appre

ciate that, in going out of the Union with their respective states, and fighting for disunion and slavery, they were acting up to the light of their consciences, and following the traditions of the past and the education which came from the "peculiar institution." Of their bravery in the field, nothing can give a better idea than the following lines by Charles Graham Halpine, commonly known as Miles O'Reilly, from whom I have before quoted: "'T was our own blood we had to meet;

'T was with full peers our swords were crossed, Till in the march, assault, retreat, And in the school of stern defeat,

We learned success at bloody cost."

It was

As

But as regards the Rebellion itself, nothing can be said in its palliation. one of the most uncalled for and terrible attacks against right that can be found in history, largely fomented, I believe, by an unscrupulous or misguided few, who worked upon the passions of the white masses. When to this is added the consideration that it had for its corner stone the perpetuation of that enormity, the enslavement of a race, it seems almost incredible that it should have continued its mad career as long as it did. Professor Draper has said in his history of the Civil War, "the posterity of those who fought for the perpetuation of human slavery will regard the issue of the war, not as the victory of the North, but as the fiat of God." Secretary Seward understood the meaning of the "impending crisis" when he spoke of the "higher law" of freedom against the slave statutes of the nation. No words can better describe such a tragedy in the world's history than those of Bulwer at the end of the Caxtons, where he wrote, "the frenzy of nations is the statesmanship of fate." So it was with us; a tragic fate worked out our higher destiny.

The sanctity of the ballot is the corner. stone, the palladium of a "government of the people, for the people, and by the people," as Lincoln first called ours. It was in not accepting the decision of the American people, as expressed in the election of Abraham Lincoln, that the leaders of the slaveholding states were driven to arms. The minority defied the laws of the land, and the will of the people.