The memory of the battle of July 1-3 was
still fresh in President Lincoln’s memory.
The absolute carnage done to man weighed heavily on his mind as he
boarded the train from Washington to Gettysburg . The simple lawyer from Springfield , Illinois Lincoln
truly thought that this institution would die a quiet death, as the founders of
the country had hoped. Instead, the
union was now staring down the abyss of fracture and discord, and the abyss was
looking back at him. Settling into his
seat, surrounded by his staff, Lincoln
stared at the blank sheet of paper.
“This paper mocks me”, he silently thought, as the train slowly departed
the station. While he was not to be
presenting the oration for the Gettysburg
cemetery, he would be required to make a few remarks to help lend the necessary
presidential strength and gravity to the day’s events. The steward opened the small window to allow
the cool air to circulate in the cramped car, as the president watched the
countryside, decimated by war, slowly pass around him.
Smoke gently poured into the presidential
coach as the train picked up speed in the Maryland countryside. Lincoln
blinked once or twice, as it seemed that a silhouette formed out of the
mist. “I am truly here”, said a
voice. Again, convinced that lack of
sleep and the stress of the war had somehow tricked his mind, the president
wiped his eyes. “My dear Mr. President,
I am not a figment of your imagination. Perhaps
I may not be familiar to you,” the voice said.
From the mist came a man, seated across from Abraham Lincoln. He was dressed in a rather ancient way, with
an air about him that seemed familiar to the president. “Dear Sir, who, may I ask, are you? You seem familiar, however I am at a loss as
to how to place you in my mind.” “I may
be familiar to you in your history,” the man replied. “I am Pericles, of Athens .”
Lincoln, a man who was not one easily startled or shocked, had to make
an effort to not let his jaw drop to the floor of the train. Was this truly the man who shaped democracy
so many generations ago? His funeral
oration had been one of the founding documents for democracy in the world, and
here he was, across from Lincoln . Indeed, his life as a simple country lawyer
had been dramatically changed, but this confounded him. “I see that you are about to give an oration
of your own, Mr. Lincoln. How is it that
we should find ourselves in such a time as these, where perhaps I can give you
an insight into the greatness you have, especially during this time of war in
your own Union .” The thought of this made Lincoln chuckle to himself. Indeed, he had read the Funeral Oration of
Pericles during his studies, but had never drawn the parallel to his own
situation as his guest had. Perhaps he could
help.
“Let me begin,” Pericles said, “by
reminding you of the greatness of the democracy that your country now stands to
lose if not unified. I, like you, had a
group of citizens who were facing the death of loved ones, but I could not
allow them to see the deaths as for naught.
Rather, those brave Athenians gave their last dying breath to defend
something greater than any of us knew at the time.” Pericles looked out the window, as the memories
of battles and wars of generations past came vividly back to him. The utter destruction of his beloved Athens , the death that
came from prolonged conflicts, the never-ending struggle for freedom. “How is it that you were able to help guide
your democracy back?” the president inquired.
Pericles came back from his reminiscence and answered, “I had to remind
not the warrior, but the citizen, that the democracy that we Athenians stood
for was the greater good to be fought for.
In my time, it was not the same, however the battle between those who
are free and able to choose for themselves versus those few with power who
choose for all, is universal. I believe
you called it ‘the consent of the governed’”.
Mr. Lincoln was amazed. It was
the consent of the governed that counted.
He was not going to Gettysburg
in order to mourn, but rather to put the sacrifice of those men on the
battlefield in context of the larger war.
Indeed, Little Round Top, Big Round Top, and Pickett’s Charge would all
be remembered by those who studied military strategy, but what of the average
citizen? It was there that Lincoln would make his
stand. Slowly in his mind, the words
began to form. Pericles seemed to smile
as he saw the thoughts running through the President’s head. He had found a kindred spirit, and knew that
Mr. Lincoln truly understood the sacrifice of those men in that small Pennsylvania town.
The train steward tapping his arm woke
President Lincoln with a startle. His
window closed, surrounded by his staff, he was in Gettysburg .
“Did you rest well, Sir?” asked a member of his staff. Lincoln
looked at the man in wonderment. “When
did I fall asleep?” The staff member
chuckled, “Mr. President, you were asleep before we left the station in Washington .” The president scrambled to write the speech
he was due to give in a few short minutes.
Feeling his pocket, he found a neatly folded paper, with the words
“Four-score and seven years ago.” Surely,
he had not spoken to Pericles. Perhaps
he was so tired that he wrote it days prior and put it in his jacket. Then, he looked at the back, which had
inscribed in a hand writing not his own "Αυτό που αφήνουν πίσω τους δεν
είναι ό, τι είναι χαραγμένο σε πέτρα μνημεία, αλλά αυτό που είναι συνυφασμένη
με τη ζωή των άλλων." (What you
leave behind is not what is engraved on stone monuments, but what is woven into
the lives of others.)
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