An Address on the unveiling of the statue of Major-General George G. Meade, in Philadelphia, October 18th, 1887, by General John Gibbon, U.S. Army.

Nearly forty years ago the Seminole Indians broke out and commenced murdering the settlers in Florida. Troops were sent into the country and a line of camps was established across the Peninsula. Into one of these camps late one afternoon, rode a horseman attended by a single orderly. He was a gaunt, thin man, with a hatchet face and a prominent aquiline nose. He introduced himself as Lieutenant Meade, Topographical Engineers, just from a reconnoissance [sic] on the hostile border. He was wet, tired and hungry. It was my good fortune to be able to offer dry clothes, food and a bed of blankets to one whose name was destined fourteen years later to render famous the little town of Gettysburg, in the southern part of Pennsylvania.

It was the first time I had met him. He was then about thirty-four years of age; had accompanied our army into Mexico, served in the war with that country in a subordinate position and without any especial notice. The next time we met he was a Brigadier-General of volunteers, commanding a brigade of the Pennsylvania Reserves in front of Washington in the fall of 1861.

Up to that time Meade had never commanded even a company of soldiers. Hence he entered upon his military duties totally unused personally to active command and dependent for success upon the basis of his military education, and his good judgment and tact in governing men. Although, therefore, an officer of the regular army, General Meade was essentially a volunteer, commanding volunteers. These, fresh from the ranks of the people, and green in all military matters, were totally ignorant of the art of war, its stern requirements, or the exactions and sacrifices incident to the preparation for it. Meade was especially fortunate in his associates, for, George A. McCall, one of the most distinguished officers of his time, was his division commander, and the other brigade commanders were destined to inscribe their names high on the glory roll of their country — John F. Reynolds and E.O.C. Ord.

There were regular officers who at the commencement of our civil war, unmindful of the different circumstances under which they were serving, seemed to think there was but one way to enforce discipline in our volunteer forces, and that was by following the old rut and routine of the regular army. Such an idea never found place in the minds of the officers I have mentioned, and the results, as exemplified in the subsequent career of the Pennsylvania Reserves, amply justified the wisdom and sound judgment of those they were fortunate enough to have placed in command over them.

It was frequently noted, during the war and afterwards, how much of the renown gained by volunteer organizations could be traced back to the right direction given to their efforts by the sound judgment, good hard common sense, firm hand and just dealings of the commanders who first took them in charge.

For these qualities Meade became early distinguished, and his efforts in disciplining, drilling his command and gaining the confidence of his men were fully exemplified in the first battles they went into and in their whole subsequent career.

On the 30th of June, 1862, General Meade was severely wounded at the head of his brigade in the battle of Glendale and retired from the field. This wound ultimately caused his early death in 1872. Six weeks after it was received he rejoined his command, took part in the disastrous campaign terminating in the defeat of our army at the second battle of Bull Run in the last days of August.

The problem in that campaign, although a simple one, was difficult in practical solution principally from the fact that there were too many people giving commands to the army.

The problem was how and in what time to get the Army of the Potomac and the Army of Virginia together in front of Washington, before Lee could bring superior forces to bear upon the latter army. Moving the one army back whilst the other was moving forward would shorten at both ends the distance between them and ensure a junction in about one-half the time it would take if the army in front stood still whilst the other moved up to join it from the rear. I touch upon this matter merely that I may refer to a conversation held with Meade at the time our army was concentrated about Warrenton. He had recently returned to his command and informed me that he had just held a conversation with the army commander, General Pope, during which Meade asked him the question, "What are you doing out here? You should be falling back towards Washington!" It is a well known fact that the authorities in Washington sent Pope orders to hold his ground in advanced positions at the front. Mark the fact that whilst an obscure brigade commander, the future commander of the Army of the Potomac had well defined, sound ideas upon that all important and much underrated subject in military operations — strategy.

Too many commanders resulted in Lee striking one of our armies before the other reached its support except in part, and after a disastrous defeat we were forced back into the defences [sic] of Washington.

By the detachment of John F. Reynolds to organize the Pennsylvania militia for the defence [sic] of Harrisburg, General Meade became the commander of the Division of the Pennsylvania Reserves, then serving in the 1st Corps, commanded by General Hooker. That division he commanded in the battles of South Mountain and Antietam. In the latter battle the corps was repulsed in its attack on the enemy's position; and immediately after Hooker was wounded and left the field. Whilst lying on the ground Hooker expressed a wish that Meade (who was not next to himself in rank in the corps,) were in command of the 1st corps. This wish was uttered in the hearing of General John Buford, who, mounting his horse, rode in hot haste to General McClellan's headquarters and reported Hooker's wish. An order was at once issued placing Meade in command of the corps irrespective of rank. Thus early in the war was he specially selected on the field of battle for the high and responsible position of commanding an army corps. He retained this command until the return of Reynolds, when Meade reverted to his division, which he retained until he was permanently assigned to the command of the 5th army corps, soon after the disastrous defeat of the Army of the Potomac at Fredericksburg in December, 1862. In this last battle he bore with his division a prominent part under Reynolds on our left, where by a gallant charge he broke through the enemy's first line but was forced to give ground by superior numbers.

Meade's rise had been gradual and sure and we now find him in the position of a corps commander, where it was natural to suppose his advice and influence would have a strong bearing upon the welfare and future operations of the Army of the Potomac. He began now to assume prominence in the eyes of men and his name was already mentioned in connection with the future command of that army. But before any change was made or even contemplated that devoted army was destined to undergo a fiery ordeal in the Chancellorsville campaign of May, 1863, and a controversy which grew out of that battle doubtless caused the eyes of the Washington authorities to be still further directed towards Meade as one of its possible future commanders.

At the close of that disastrous battle, in which Hooker was badly out-generalled and signally defeated by vastly inferior forces, a council of war was held at which a very decided disinclination to retreat was exhibited by prominent generals who preferred to remain there and fight, giving employment to two whole corps which had scarcely fired a shot in the battle. It has almost become a proverb in military affairs that "councils of war never fight," but the council at Chancellorsville was one of the exceptions to the rule. Contrary to the opinion expressed by his prominent generals Hooker decided to withdraw his army to the north bank of the Rappahannock River. It was the second instance within nine months where the commander rather than the army was whipped.

Then followed Lee's offensive operations and the race northward of the two great armies, which were finally to come in contact at Gettysburg and there decide definitely the fate of the campaign.

To say that after the battle of Chancellorsville the army had lost faith in Hooker is simply to state a self-evident proposition, for although instances have occurred where armies retain their faith in the commanders under whom they have been unfortunate, this was not one of such cases, and the intelligent rank and file of our American volunteers could not conceal from themselves the fact that we had been badly defeated by inferior numbers, and that as a consequence of that defeat we, instead of invading the enemy's country, were moving back towards Washington for the purpose of defending our own territory against his offensive operations. The members of that army could not if they would, thrust out of sight the all important questions, "what is going to be the result of the next conflict?" and "are we to have Chancellorsville repeated under the same commander?" With many a misgiving, directly the result of the Chancellorsville campaign, we moved northward, left Virginia, entered Maryland and were approaching Frederick City, when a staff officer came riding along the road on the 28th of June and surprised me with the information that Hooker had been relieved from command of the army. With considerable trepidation I asked "who succeeds him?" and I uttered a sigh of relief and an involuntary "thank God for that" when he replied "General Meade!"

The American people were rushed into a terrible war without the slightest conception of what war really is, and, with the exception of the comparatively few who had had a little experience thirteen years before in the Mexican war, no one had the slightest idea of the stern requirements, the suffering, heartburnings, and terrible sacrifices incident to a state of war. It will always be the proudest boast in the history of this country that a free, independent people should have gone into such a war, with such an inadequate idea of what would be required of them, and should have so thoroughly and cheerfully surrendered to the stern Moloch of war almost every right and privilege that a free people deem sacred.

To me it was the most wonderful of things to see men go into the field, proud in their feelings of independence and individuality, confident they knew all about it and prepared to carry everything before them with the same vim and rush which had carried them successfully through many a tight business place in civil life, gradually awaken to the fact that now they were all "at sea" on new and unknown waters, where few of the rules which had heretofore governed their lives were applicable. It was touching to see how they stumbled along, trying to learn, with the blind leading the blind, and how eagerly they clung to any one showing a capacity and a willingness to guide them into the right paths, and when they found such a one how completely they surrendered to him everything which a few weeks before they would have yielded to no one but God himself! This feeling which said so plainly "show us the right road" constituted the opportunity of the regular army, and almost everyone possessed of the simplest A B C of the military art was eventually pushed eagerly to the front. [Andrew] Curtin, your great war Governor, will readily tell you how, in the latter years of the war, appeal after appeal was made to him by bodies of free, independent American citizens for some one to reign over them, show them what to do, how to do it, and how to lead them in battle.

The Military Academy, much as it has been reproached because every graduate did not blossom into a full-blown Napoleon, can at least claim that although West Point does not make Generals, West Point officers have made thousands of good soldiers and have demonstrated the fact that the American volunteer, when he has a chance to be instructed in the military profession, is the first soldier in the world! It may be truthfully asserted that although we were frequently out-generalled during the war, we were seldom out-soldiered.

Towards the close of the war what a transformation of opinion took place! Then all in the army and many out of it recognized as an established fact that an army to be successful must be a perfectly organized machine, subject to the control of one man, subject to his sole control; and it not unfrequently [sic] happened that the powers of command were exercised in a despotic and even arbitrary manner. Every commander who was not allowed this kind of control failed of success, and those who did succeed were conspicuously those who were not so hampered. One of the most distinguished soldiers produced by our war once said if he thought his cap knew what was going on in his head he would take it off and cast it from him. And yet the commander of one of our prominent armies confided to the committee on the conduct of the war with great apparent frankness his plans and purposes one month before active operations of his army commenced, giving plenty of time for the enemy to fully post himself! Fortunately no harm was done in this particular case, since the campaign, when it took place, differed so completely from the one laid down in the committee room that its own author could not have recognized it.

McClellan, who forged the bolt afterwards to be hurled so many times against the rebel hosts was required beforehand to submit his plan of campaign to the War Department at a time when every street and almost every house in Washington was swarming with active, energetic spies! and was himself placed in charge of one of these armies, the operations of which Grant two years later compared to those of a "balky team."

In those two years, however, we learning something of war. In Grant's hands were placed the reins of the whole team, and the Great President, whose firm hand guided the ship of state, in bidding him good-bye as he started on his campaign, bade him God speed, and added, "I do not even ask you your plan of campaign!"

No man recognized this cardinal principle of control in the field sooner or more thoroughly than did General Meade. In his commands, up to this time, his will, controlled by good sound judgment, and a just administration of the law, the regulations and the customs of the service, was the law. Knowing him so well, I do not, for a moment, question that had he been consulted and allowed any option, he would have followed exactly the course pursued by that other great soldier of the Army of the Potomac, John F. Reynolds.

On very good authority it is stated that when a successor to Burnside was under consideration at Washington, the name of John F. Reynolds came up, as it was bound to do in any consideration of the subject, and that somebody (probably General Halleck) communicated with him and sounded him upon the subject. Up to that time the Army of the Potomac never had had a commander who had not been hampered by instructions and orders from Washington, which, if they had no other evil effect, certainly tended to destroy that independence of judgment and undivided control of the army before referred to as so essential to successful operations. The published correspondence in the records of the rebellion teems with repeated instances of this kind.

Of course there is no intention of denying to a Government the self-evident duty of dictating to its armies the military and political necessities of their operations. But having laid these down, all further interference in the practical operation in the field should cease, and the commander on the spot be allowed to carry on his operations in his own way. If he fails, the only remedy is to relieve him from command, and the risk of failure is a less evil than any likely to result from placing the responsibility upon his shoulders and denying to him the corresponding control.

Reynold's reply was just what might have been expected from such a soldier, and is said to have been to the effect that whilst he stood prepared to obey all lawful orders sent him, yet, if any options were allowed, he could not voluntarily accept the command unless a liberty of action were guaranteed to him considerably beyond what he had any reason to expect. There is no mistaking the meaning of this language from a soldier like Reynolds, and as a possible commander his name sank out of sight. The Government was not yet prepared to act on sound military principles, nor bestow high command hampered with conditions by the recipient, and hence a few months later, when the necessity for relieving Hooker became imperative, Meade received no warning from the Government and was allowed no option in the matter. He was awakened at midnight by a special messenger from Washington, and so completely surprised that he could imagine no cause for the visit except that he was to be placed in arrest!

The conclusion to which he jumped amply demonstrates how completely unexpected to him was the order placing him in command of the army. The foundation for his conclusion, when awakened to find himself confronted by Colonel [James A.] Hardie, dates back to the battle of Chancellorsville barely two months before. To properly represent the matter I must revert to that battle. As already stated, a council was held at Hooker's headquarters after the fighting had ceased, and that in it a strong disinclination to retreat was manifested. Reynolds and Meade, neither of whose corps had been seriously engaged in the battle, the 1st Corps not at all, were both outspoken in their opinion that the army should not retreat; and Reynolds, whilst the council was going on, laid down, saying as he did so, "My vote will be the same as Meade's," and went sound asleep! Such a thing could not very well have happened without a thorough understanding between himself and Meade in regard to their opinion as to what was the proper course to pursue. But Hooker determined to retreat, and in spite of the formidable condition of the swollen Rappahannock, the army successfully recrossed the river.

The statement which I now make I had from the lips of General Meade himself soon afterwards. It is confirmed in every particular by his private letters written at the time. He had an interview with General Hooker, and the recent operations were discussed between them. To Meade's astonishment Hooker informed him that in his determination to retreat he had depended more upon Reynolds' and Meade's opinion than on any others of his officers. But, said Meade in surprise, "I did not counsel retreat!" Hooker insisted that he had, and that he had so reported to Washington! Upon which Meade told him in very decided terms that he should join issue with him in the matter, as he had persistently insisted that the army should not retreat. Hooker astonished him still more by saying, "you expressed the opinion at the council that you did not believe it was practicable, under the circumstances, for the army to withdraw, but I knew that it was practicable," (when this conversation took place it had proved practicable) "and therefore the main objection you had urged against a retreat being groundless I considered you really in favor of retreating!" Here was a direct and serious rupture between the army commander and one of his principal subordinates, and the one of all others on whom the army commander declared he had relied when he gave the order to retreat. Is it any wonder that Meade, waked out of a sound sleep at midnight, and confronted with a special messenger bearing an order from the War Department, should have jumped to the conclusion that the order was one placing him in arrest rather than one giving him command of the army?

All will admit it was a hazardous thing to transfer the command of a great army whilst on the march, and almost in contact with a powerful, enthusiastic enemy, acting then energetically on the offensive. But the results of the measure justified it in every respect. Meade was equal to the occasion. He was at once assured of the enthusiastic support and co-operation of his most prominent generals, and the following day he issued his orders for the advance of his army.

The battle of Gettysburg opened three days afterwards. It is needless on this occasion to repeat the oft told story of that three days' fierce and sanguinary struggle in which the brave old Army of the Potomac, loyal always to any and every commander, and to its great mission, hurled back the surging waves of Lee's veterans, strewed with its dead and wounded the highest tide mark of the rebellion, and thrust Lee's army back from loyal soil.

It may not, however, be deemed inappropriate on an occasion like this, to refer to some of the incidents preceding and attending that battle, for, as in a great many other cases, some of the facts have been rendered obscure from the cloudy statements which have been thrown around them.

A commander placed in the position where, by an imperative order of his Government, Meade now found himself, was bound at once to enter into some speculation regarding what the enemy was doing, what he proposed to do, and what course was incumbent upon him to thwart his hostile designs. The known elements of the problem before him were very few. That Lee was in Pennsylvania, to the north of him, he knew, but where he was, or what he was doing, he did not know, and could not immediately discover. Unfortunately, with a capable opponent acting on the offensive, much of what he intends to do, or may possibly do, has to be guessed at. Lee might push on to Harrisburg, cross the Susquehanna, capture the capital of the state and march on this city. He might retrace his steps, place himself between Meade's army and Washington and endanger the safety of the national capital, or he might, if so disposed and mindful of the number of sympathizers to be found in the city of Baltimore, almost east from Meade's position, move directly on that city. His possession of Baltimore would still more seriously imperil Washington. Now, whilst defending both Washington and Baltimore by interposing his army, Meade, if slow in moving, might give Lee time to march northward, effect the crossing of the Susquehanna and the capture of Harrisburg. This I personally knew was a matter which filled Meade's thoughts and gave him very great concern. A glance at the map will show northeast of Frederick, and at a distance about equal to that from Baltimore, the small town of Westminster, then the terminus of a railroad from Baltimore, giving a short line of supply from that city. In front of Westminster a few miles, and running from east to west, will be found Big Pipe Creek, a stream which, from its size, would probably be found to furnish a good defensive position, its location being just what was wanted for a line of battle on which Baltimore, and consequently Washington, could be most successfully defended. Hence Meade threw forward his corps in a northeasterly direction from Frederick, saying to his chief of cavalry, "I have no other instructions to give you than to keep the front and flanks of this army well scouted and protected." The selection of the Pipe Creek line, whether intended as one on which to form as the army moved forward, or as a position to fall back upon after the army had passed beyond, was an admirable one. That Meade did not propose to form that line advancing is sufficiently shown by the fact that on the 1st of July every corps of his army, with the exception possibly of the 6th, was north of that line, and the line was being examined and located by staff officers with a view to occupying it.

Should Lee, whose positions were still imperfectly known, suddenly assume the offensive towards the Army of the Potomac, Meade was prepared to place his army on the defensive in a position he knew all about. But on the 1st of July he received the news he was anxiously awaiting, and learned that the indefatigable Buford had discovered the enemy, and that in hurrying to Buford's assistance the brave, skillful soldier, John F. Reynolds, who never failed to obey the soldier's instinct by marching to the sound of the guns, had fallen.

I pause a moment to lay a wreath upon the ashes of this great soldier and brave, honest, warm-hearted gentleman. I was once irritated beyond measure at hearing a prominent officer attempt to defend John F. Reynolds from the charge of rashness for his action on the 1st of July. John F. Reynolds needs no defense! His conduct on that day was pre-eminently prudent, except in the one particular of personal exposure; but personal fearlessness was one of John F. Reynolds' characteristics. The stand he made with his troops rendered it possible for Meade to gain a victory at Gettysburg. In hot haste, Meade at Taneytown, dispatched Hancock to replace Reynolds. As one of the numerous controversies which have arisen since the battle of Gettysburg is in regard to the powers bestowed upon General Hancock on that occasion, a simple quotation from Meade's letter of instruction dated 1:10, P.M., July 1st, ought to be sufficient to settle the question. It says: "that you proceed to the front, and by virtue of this order, in case of the truth of General Reynolds' death, you assume command of the corps there assembled, viz.: the 11th, 1st and 3d, at Emmittsburg." Hancock, of course, obeyed his order.

One other point in this same letter of instruction it is well to note as bearing upon the site of the coming battle. "If you think (it says) the ground and position there a better one on which to fight a battle, under existing circumstances, you will so advise the General and he will order all the troops up." Mark the peculiar phraseology, "a better one on which to fight a battle."

A "better one" than what? Why of course than Big Pipe Creek, for the letter adds "you know the General's views, and General Warren, who is fully aware of them, has gone out to see General Reynolds." Thus did General Meade commit substantially to his chosen Lieutenant the determination of the site of the coming battle. Had Reynolds lived the question would probably have turned upon the opinion of that distinguished soldier. But Reynolds having fallen, Meade decided to replace him by one whom he knew and on whose judgment he could rely.

Hancock's report, after his arrival on the ground, scarcely met the question submitted in his letter of instruction, but on such as it was Meade formed his decision, ordered "all the troops up," and by a night ride placed himself on the field of battle, shortly after midnight.

Since that battle almost as many claimants for the merit of selecting the field of battle at Gettysburg have sprung up as there were cities to claim the birthplace of Homer. As I have shown, the action of Reynolds' command rendered the occupation of that field possible. After the action of the 1st of July, a man might as well claim merit for a fluid flowing into a mouth of a bottle because he poured it into the funnel, as to claim the selection of Cemetery Ridge for the coming battle. When our troops were driven from Seminary Ridge, Cemetery Ridge was the place and the only place for them to rally, and there they were rallied and placed in position by Hancock, whose opportune arrival on the field was fully admitted at the time in the army.

That Meade's determination to fight at Gettysburg was fully made up, is sufficiently demonstrated by the fact that every corps of his army was that night directed to that point; the 5th corps marching nearly all night and the 6th all night and part of the next day to reach it.

The battle of Gettysburg, a purely defensive one, is remarkable, not so much for anything that Meade did or did not do there, as it is for the fact that, taking command only three days before the battle, he moved his army forward without a day's delay, placed it in position on Cemetery Ridge repulsed all assaults of Lee's army and compelled its retreat out of Pennsylvania and the abandonment of its offensive campaign. His action and the results were hailed with satisfaction by the authorities and the loyal people of the country. To compare small things with great ones, Meade's task may be aptly likened to that imposed upon a man in whose hands the reins of a spirited team are placed at a critical moment and on a difficult road, and who succeeds in avoiding the ruts, rocks and stumps of an unknown route, and lands his passengers safe and sound at the end of their journey.

His task and the manner in which he performed it, was duly appreciated and highly applauded, when on the 4th of July, 1863, the results of the battle were flashed over the country, and men, women and children, who had stood with bated breath when the invasion was in progress, now breathed once more, and felt that the country was saved.

I have stated that Meade's principal anxiety, previous to the battle, seemed to be lest Lee should succeed in crossing the Susquehanna before he could close upon him sufficiently to compel him to let go his hold upon that stream. But his able opponent was not to be caught in any such trap, and had already given orders for the concentration of his army near Gettysburg, in his rear, before the conflict of July 1st took place.

I do not expect this assemblage to agree with me in what I am now going to say, but as a military question I have but little doubt that had Meade failed in preventing Lee from crossing the Susquehanna it would have been better for us, even had this city of Philadelphia reverberated with the sound of hostile guns! Had Lee marched on this city with the Army of the Potomac behind him, it is a safe prediction that his army, as an organization, would never have recrossed the Potomac, and probably never the Susquehanna.

But in making this criticism I am placing myself in the numerous category of those, who, after the battle, have demonstrated to their own satisfaction, how much better this campaign might have been conducted than it was. "Heroes" are always more numerous after a battle than before one, or whilst it is going on, and military problems are always more easily solved after all the unknown quantities have become known, than they are during the conflict, when most of these quantities are still the cloudy x's, y's and z's of the equation.

It is worth no man's while to attempt to defend General Meade from a charge which came very near being made the pretext for depriving him of the command of the army. Those who knew the character of the man will not hesitate to accept as conclusive, his adjuration made before the Committee on the conduct of the War, and repeated in other places with the same earnestness, "I deny, (he says) under the full solemnity and sanctity of my oath, and in the firm conviction that the day will come when the secrets of all men shall be known — I utterly deny ever having intended, or thought for one instant, to withdraw that army, unless the military contingencies, which the future should develop, during the course of the day, might render it a matter of necessity that the army should be withdrawn."

But, whilst not deeming it necessary to attempt any defense against this charge of an intended retreat, I believe the time has now come, and that this is a suitable occasion to emphatically declare, no matter what errors or misconceptions may have existed in the minds of others, there is not the slightest evidence tending to show any intention in the mind of General Meade to retreat from the field of Gettysburg on the morning of the 2d of July, or at any other time during the continuance of the battle.

A free country is sometimes a hard master, and where the whole nation was wrought up to the intense feeling which existed here in 1863, the demands made upon its public servants are apt to be exorbitant and occasionally somewhat unreasonable. Satisfied, for the moment, with the total repulse of Lee's army and the defeat of his invasion, the next demand was for the annihilation of his army. But a well organized, well disciplined and brave army, even when defeated, is not annihilated every day, and the only instances of the capture of large armies during our civil war were where they were so reduced in numbers or supplies as to render any further resistance hopeless in a military point of view.

Meade, conscientious, honest and faithful, but quick tempered, was cut to the quick by Halleck's dispatch conveying to him, in terms which the good President would hardly have made use of himself, the "great dissatisfaction in the mind of the President" at "the escape of Lee's army without another battle," and adding that "it will require an active and energetic pursuit on your part to remove the impression that it has not been sufficiently active heretofore."

Fancy such a dispatch sent the commander of a victorious army, with whose gallant deeds the whole country with one voice was applauding! Is it any wonder that the quick tempered soldier, smarting under the undeserved rebuke, should have instantly replied, at 2:30, P.M., the same day, "Having performed my duty conscientiously, and to the best of my ability, the censure of the President (conveyed in your dispatch of 1 P. M., this day) is, in my judgment, so undeserved that I feel compelled, most respectfully, to ask to be immediately relieved from the command of this army."

But the Government could not afford to comply with his request, and with grim humor in commenting afterwards upon Halleck's reply to it, Meade said it was even worse than the original dispatch, for, whilst disclaiming any intention to censure, added that it was sent simply "as a stimulus to an active pursuit!"

That great soldier who has been named "The Rock of Chicamauga [sic]," situated under similar circumstances, but with a disposition more even tempered than Meade's, took time by the forelock and humbly telegraphed if it be deemed advisable to relieve me from the command of this army I will submit without a murmur. It was thus that great soldiers treated any imputation against their faithful performance of duty, or their conscientious exercise of their judgment, as commanders on the spot.

It is not necessary to follow closely General Meade's operations subsequent to the battle of Gettysburg and up to the close of the war, for most of the facts have now become matters of history. Succeeding to the command of the Army of the Potomac in a way utterly unexpected to himself, his appointment was the result neither of personal solicitations on his own part, nor of the political intrigues, which but too frequently governed in such cases. He was placed in command unidentified with any of the cliques popularly supposed to exist in that army, and yet there were not wanting those who attributed some of his prominent acts to the influence of this, that, or the other party. Cheered by the assurance of the Secretary of War that the whole power of the War Department should be exerted in his support, he selected, as far as in his power, and according to his best judgment, those on whom he could best rely in the crisis thus suddenly confronting him. That he would, in this way, necessary make some enemies he does not for a moment appear to have contemplated, nor, if he thought of it at all, does he seem to have cared. With well defined opinions and the courage to carry them out, he followed the course, in every case, which in his judgment appeared to him the best and soundest, disregarding alike hostile criticism and the carping comments of the public press, recognizing the fact that the position he occupied had always been open to public criticism, and that a sufficient answer in all cases would be the success of his army if directed on true military principles. That he was eminently qualified, by firmness and decision, for the position he occupied is sufficiently shown by his not hesitating to fall back in the autumn of 1863, when Lee assumed the offensive, and by his retreat from Mine Run when it was discovered that an assault upon Lee's intrenched [sic] position was too hazardous to be undertaken. His decision in this last case was complicated too, by the fact that it was, in a measure, forced upon him by one of his subordinates. Under General Warren, one of his most trusted corps commanders, was placed a large portion of the army to make a flank attack. The hour for the attack arrived, and the sound of Warren's guns was anxiously awaited. But they were not heard, and at last came the news that in Warren's judgment the attack, under the changed circumstances of the case, ought not to be made. Meade recognized too fully the rights and responsibilities resting on the shoulders of the commander on the spot to find fault with Warren's action, and though with sore regret, he aquiesced [sic] in it and withdrew his army without accomplishing the object of the expedition. It is believed that General Warren lost nothing in the estimation of his commanding general, who recognized in its fullest sense the duty incumbent upon a commanding officer to protect the rights of his subordinates, when with the responsibilities of detached commanders thrown upon their shoulders they conscientiously exercised their best judgment in the execution of their orders.

And now a time was approaching when General Meade was to be subjected to the most trying ordeal of his whole military career. In the spring of the year following the great battle of Gettysburg, General Grant, having been invested with the command of all the armies of the United States, established his headquarters with the Army of the Potomac. None but a military man similarly situated can appreciate to its fullest extent the trying position of the commander of a great army, just victorious under his command, so placed as to have his every order and disposition made directly under the eye of a higher officer on the spot, no matter with how much consideration and delicacy that officer may act.

No one can know, and probably no one ever will know to its fullest extent, the trials and heart-burnings incident to the memorable campaign of 1864. That campaign did not really terminate until Lee's army laid down its arms at Appomattox Court House in the following April, and then Meade was still commanding the Army of the Potomac.

The maxim that one poor general is better than two good ones in the field will not lose any of its force when the history of the campaign of 1864 comes to be written. No man can serve two masters nor can any army, without the two exercising a degree of consideration and forbearance not compatible with ordinary human nature during a state of war. Even with the greatest care and every disposition on the part of the superior for harmonious action, clashing of orders with the worst results are sure to occur. That Meade, quick tempered and excitable as was his nature, retained the command of the army to the end, is as creditable to his patriotism and his devotion to the army as were the sound judgment and good sense of the commander of all our armies creditable to him in retaining him there.

When General Grant took command, General Meade with the instincts of the true soldier, frankly stated to him that he probably would desire to make his own selection for the command of the Army of the Potomac, and he begged him to understand that he would cheerfully yield to his decision whatever it might be. But General Grant made no change, and at the termination of hostilities complimented highly General Meade for the faithful manner in which he had performed the duties of his position.

The long, tedious, trying, and sanguinary campaign of 1864 followed, terminating with the siege of Petersburg, and the following spring the brave old Army of the Potomac had the satisfaction of seeing its four years' antagonist brought to bay, at Appomattox Court House, where its arms were laid down forever.

From the creation of the Army of the Potomac to its disbandment in 1865 it had had five commanders, of these General Meade, the last one, commanded it for about one-half of the whole period.

With one exception General Meade possessed less than any of the commanders that magnetic attraction which does so much to bind together the commanding general and the rank and file of his army, an attraction which was so marked a characteristic in the careers of McClellan and Thomas, Lee and Stonewall Jackson, and the absence of which Grant so frankly deplores in his own person. But whilst this attraction in Meade's case was lacking, there never was a time during his long and eventful career at the head of that army when it, as an army, from the highest officer to the lowest private in the ranks, with few exceptions, did not bestow upon him its fullest confidence, and place the most implicit reliance upon his ability to command and his intention to do under all circumstances that which was best for their welfare and success and for the good of the whole imperilled country.

We are assembled here to-day, nearly fifteen years after this distinguished soldier crossed the Great River, to inaugurate in his honor this fitting memorial to his bravery and distinguished services as a soldier, his high-toned honorable character as a man and his virtues and integrity as a citizen of this great Republic, desirous of testifying by our words and actions the high esteem in which we hold him, and to hand down to the latest generations that in the great fight to maintain this free government, to perpetuate our liberties and our glorious example of freedom to the world, of all the heroes who found death upon a thousand battle fields, of all the leaders who guided these heroes to final victory, this country produced no one more courageous, more conscientious or more faithful in every trust committed to his charge than