John Fleming’s Address at the Dedication of the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument
Memorial Day, 1896, Jamaica, New York.
Researching for a post about the origins of the Queens Fourth Ward Memorial Day Parade, I came across a number of stories and artifacts that may be helpful background material for the interested reader. John Fleming’s address at the dedication of the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument in Jamaica is one such item.
Originally installed at the intersection of Hillside Avenue and Bergen Avenue, now known Merrick Blvd, the Jamaica Peace Monument, as it was colloquially known, was moved in 1960 to Major Mark Park just a few blocks east on Hillside. I’ve long known that Ruckstuhl’s statue of Victory was a character in the story at the center of this blog, but Fleming and his band of GAR veterans, long lost to history, are recent discoveries. They deserve more comprehensive scholarship, to which my work can only gesture.
John Fleming (1842-1918), popular former District Attorney of Queens County, was the featured orator at the dedication of the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument in Jamaica, Queens County, on May 30, 1896. He was was the founder and president of the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Memorial Association of Jamaica, which raised money and contracted noted sculptor F.W. Ruckstuhl to create a monument to Jamaica’s Civil War dead. In 1898, Fleming was appointed Justice in the Queens Court of Special Sessions by New York Mayor Van Wyck. A founder and key organizer of the Alfred M. Wood Post No. 368 of the Grand Army of the Republic in Jamaica, Fleming was known for his lofty speeches. His speech that Memorial Day was so highly regarded it was reprinted in the Daily Long Island Farmer in 1916 on the occasion of the twentieth anniversary of the dedication of the statue. Here it is in full.
“This monument is erected to the memory of the men of the town of Jamaica who, during the civil war, on land and sea, fought for the Union. It holds no tablet declaring these words, for as just said in the beautiful service prescribed for such occasion by the Grand Army of the Republic—“it needs no words.” Standing within the centre of the town, its peculiar local significance will be recognized, while such is the power of art, the most untutored is not left to guess the chief meaning intended by its erection.
“This granite, hewed from the hills of New Hampshire, and seeming to carry in it, in palpable form, the warmth of the fires of liberty kindled there in 1776, has been touched by the cunning chisel of American workmen, until the eye loves to dwell upon the soft, reposeful lines, within which there yet exists the full sustaining strength of the native block when first parted from its mighty foundation. Its own note and accent almost tell the story of its being; but that generations, yet unborn, may never for a moment mistake its purpose, it bears graven deep upon its face the figures 1861—1865. Momentous symbol of Freedom’s new birth! Here are the rays of Liberty’s sun drawn into a focus, in which we behold the purifying flame. If anywhere upon the face of the globe there crouches a slave who has not yet learned the meaning of the symbolic figures, may beneficent Heaven hasten the hour when, looking at his broken chains, he, too, shall feel something of the same thrill that stirs your hearts to-day.
“No one with soul responsive to such sentiments needs an interpreter to tell him the meaning of the statue that surmounts this pedestal of stone. Hymn of triumph! Song of Peace! Sweet message of remembrance, of gratitude, of love! Her drapery, filled with the rushing winds; her wings still poised from her flight in the skies; her outstretched hands bearing the waving palm and the sacred laurel, all eloquently tell of the triumph in which we glory—the immortal triumph of our Union dead.
“This triumph was won in war. War, always dreadful. War of which Wellington said, “If you had seen but one day of war you would pray to Almighty God that you might never see such a thing again.” Yet terrible as is the sword, there are some things still worse and harder to be borne by a spirited people. Such a people choose rather the horrors of war than submission to wrong to flag and country. This was the choice in 1861, and it remained the firm, unalterable choice of the people of the North until the last redoubt of the South fell and her arms were grounded. From four long years of war they won the peace we enjoy to-day. Peace, oh lovely peace! To you my comrades who heard the deafening clamors of battle, and saw the awful devastation of war, how delightful the peace we enjoy to-day! Old and young commingling in praise of virtuous deeds; fields cultivated, commerce extending; science unfolding its countless treasures; education fostered; music and the arts imparting grace and charm to life, and Religion diffusing its great light over all. What wonder we exclaim “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feed of Him who bringeth good tidings, that publish peace.” It is the men, who, under the providence of God, helped to win such peace we are here to honor—for whom this monument is erected. It does not bear their names, but what of that? What is a name, or rank, or creed, or color? A grateful people stops not to discriminate, or to distinguish. Each offered a heart full of loyalty and devotion—each offered his life.
“Some of our loved ones fell upon the ensanguined field, or languishing, died from privation and toil. Some returned to kindred and to home and have since found “stirless rest.” Others still survive, but for the these the grim marker Death is steadily advancing his pale flag, and in a little while—a very little while—he will unite our severed lines. So what of the name of any! We ask not who he was, nor what he was; where he died, nor when. It matters not. It matters not whether he met death in the shock at Antietam, at Chickamauga, at Fredricksburgh or at Port Hudson, at Vicksburg, or in the Wilderness, or in the hell of Gettysburg; nor upon the deck of what vessel he yielded up his life, or what waters engulfed him; nor if he died in writhing pain, or with a happy smile upon his lips; nor if he sleep in an unknown grave, or where loving hand can reach the spot with the flowers of tender remembrance; nor yet does it matter if he who marched and fought, survive to this hour. This stone and this bronze, in its silence, speaks, as our dead would speak—it speaks for all, not for immortality of name, but that he who stops and views may emulate the faith and the patriotism that won the victory—an indivisible union—a people reunited in the bonds of fraternal love.
“Behold this statue, beautifully typical of such victory! No sceptered Jupiter with the giants he had conquered at his feet; no frowning Mars; nor threatening rod; nor implement of war. Victory of Christian America! The victory of the Jesuit Marquette carrying the cross to hostile tribes of savage Indians upon the great lakes and the Mississippi; of Penn upon the banks of the Delaware; of the Pilgrim fathers laying the foundation of civil liberty; victory of the heroes of the Revolution; of the free schools of the land; of the open Bible; victory of Wendell Phillips, crying out from the depths of his soul for freedom for the slave; victory of Grant, when, after wearisome and bloody siege, having captured Richmond, he yet refrained from entering her gates, lest he humiliate her devoted people; victory of Lincoln when proclaiming “Charity for all, malice towards none”—such a victory as the world had never seen before. May such victory continue immortal.
“We do not forget, however, that when peace seems securest, when all has the most gay and flourishing appearance and hope seems brightest, that that may be the very day we stand most in need of the inspiration that comes from the councils of the wise, and from the deeds of the brave. Civic virtue must be intense enough to match the prosperity and expansion of the Republic, or else we surely fall. The passions of men must be ruled. Public tranquility must be maintained. We must not fly to arms without cause that appeals to Heaven itself; nor from love of soft pleasure and voluptuous ease, shrink from the stern sacrifices that honor and duty may demand. The man in humble life who loves his country, and does his duty as a citizen, is the man to be respected and admired of his fellow men. he who from avarice for wealth has no time for patriotic feeling, nor for the duty the Republic requires, is the man to be contemned.
“Such lesson this monument will teach. Hence the generous action of the people of our town and the applause that greets the dedication of their tribute. Monument—above and beyond all things else—monument of peace! Prophecy of eternal concord!
“Science has lately demonstrated the fact that the softest echo of the lute, or the lowest note of the sweetest singer, may be translated into abiding form to be reproduced for our delight. Heaven grant that every note and hymn of praise here to day, every blessing and every patriotic thought may not vanish and fade away, but remain forever permanent, blending with harmonious impulse into the national symphony of liberty, and inspiring the hearts of all with devotion to flag and country. Then though this granite and this bronze shall have fallen and become rubbish at the feet, yet still shall Freedom live.”
Source:
“Dedication of the Soldiers’ Monument.” Daily Long Island Farmer. 27 May, 1916, p. 1.