argued, for the nation to distinguish itself in this way, for, except for âRepublican Athens,â no nation had ever provided a burial place for all of the soldiers. â Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori is a good sentiment for soldiers to fight and die by. Let the American Government show, first of all modern nations, that it knows how to reciprocate that sentiment by tenderly collecting, and nobly caring for, the remains of those who in our greatest war have fought and died to rescue and perpetuate the liberties of us all.â 33
Within a year of his challenge, Congress had committed to burying every Union soldier in a national cemetery. By 1871 there were more than 300,000 veterans buried in seventy-four government cemeteries, most of them on or near the battlefields where the men had fallen. Only 54 percent of these graves contained identified remains. 34
The process of establishing a national military cemetery for the war dead had begun before the 1867 congressional action. As a matter of some pique as well as real necessity, the War Department took over Robert E. Leeâs plantation along the Potomac and developed it into Arlington National Cemetery.
President Lincoln had affirmed the importance of official cemeteries when he spoke at the dedication of the Gettysburg National Cemetery. In July 1863 a defining battle and a bloody Union victory on the hills around Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, had engaged more than 170,000 soldiers. Following three days of fighting, nearly 8,000 of them lay dead, along with thousands of horses, rotting in the summer sun. Provision for their burial soon became a national occasion to honor and to grieve. When Abraham Lincoln came to the cemetery dedication on November 19, 1863, he spoke eloquently and timelessly, evoking the âgreat civil warâ that engaged the nation.
We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for 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 can not dedicateâwe can not consecrateâwe can not hallowâthis ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor 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 which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before usâthat from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of
devotionâthat we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain. 35
Lincolnâs words were profoundly moving, yet they were also fundamentally impersonal. He did not call up reminders of blood and bodies, of lives and dreams ended in an instant. No generals, no officers, no soldiers, no names of individuals, of places, or of battles, appeared in Lincolnâs remarks. There were no individual heroes cited; instead, there was a poignant and poetic reminder of heroic sacrifice by many, which underlined their devotion to and sacrifice for a greater purpose. The president celebrated the narrative of heroic democracy, defining the war as a cause engaged in for the basic principles of the nation, and embracing the war dead, undifferentiated and anonymous, but heroes all. 36
In addition to the presidentâs eloquent reminder of the principles for which the war was fought, he also added to the emotional responsibility of those who would continue the war. Lincoln challenged the âlivingâ to make certain that those who lay in the cemetery, freedomâs fighters, should not have died âin vain.â The âunfinished work,â the âgreat task
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