I spent Decoration Day at Clearfield, a little mining and agricultural town on the other side of the Alleghanies. I put up at a hotel for two or three days, and just gave myself to the town for the time. Early on the festival day I was out to see how the workaday world was taking things. All the shops were closed except the ice-cream soda7 bars and the fruiterers. There were flags on the banks and loungers on the streets. Young men were walking about with flags in their hat ribbons. The cycles and automobiles8 on the roadway had their wheels swathed with the stars and stripes. There were negroes and negresses standing9 endimanche's at street corners. Now and then a girl in white dress and white boots would trip from a house to a shop and back again. There was an air best expressed by the words of the song:
Go along and get yer ready,
Get yer glad rags on,
For there's going to be a meeting
In the good old town.
Every town in America is a good old town, and on such occasions as Decoration Day you may always hear the worthies10 of the place giving their reminiscences in the lounge of a hotel. I sat and listened to many.
[Pg 179]
We had a very quiet morning, and it seemed to me there was considerable boredom11 in the town. There was a fire in the Opera House about eleven, and I ran behind the scenes with a crowd of others and stared at the smoking walls. There was a sort of disappointment that the firemen put it out so promptly12.
But after dinner the real holiday commenced, and the houses began to empty and the streets began to fill. About four o'clock the "Parade" commenced, what we should in England call a procession. Every one who owned a car had it out, carrying roses and ferns and flags. There was a continual hooting13 and coughing of motor-horns, and an increasing buzz of talk. The "Eighth Regimental Band" appeared, and stood with their instruments in the roadway, chatting to passers-by and being admired. The firemen came with new hats on—their work at the Opera House happily concluded. They now bore on their shoulders wreaths, which were to be carried to the graves of the heroes in the cemetery14 outside the town. The High School band formed up. A tall man brought a new-bought banner of the Stars and Stripes, which hung from a bird-headed pole. Boy Scouts15 came in costume—as it were in the rags of the war. The marching order was formed, and then came up what I thought to be the Town Militia16, but which turned out to be the representatives of the Mechanics union, with special decorations and medals on their breasts. The[Pg 180] bands began to play; the automobiles, full of flowers and flags, began to cough and shoot forward; the flocks of promenaders on the side-walk and in the roadway set themselves to march in step to the festal music. I watched the whole procession, from the Eighth Regimental Band that went first to the eight veterans of the Spanish War, who, with muskets17 on their shoulders, took up the rear. I stopped several people in the procession and asked them who they were, what exactly was their r?le, for what reason were they decorated with medals,—and every one was glad to satisfy my curiosity. I found that the eight veterans considered themselves technically18 a squad19, and their function was to fire a salute3 over the graves of the "heroes."
The procession marched round the town to the strains of "Onward20, Christian21 soldiers" and "O come, all ye faithful." All the people of Clearfield accompanied—Americans, Poles, Ruthenians, Slovaks—for Clearfield has its foreign mining population as well as its Anglo-Saxon urban Americans. As I was going alongside, a young boy ran up and put his hand on my shoulder and addressed me in Polish.
"What's that you say?" I asked.
"What are you,—Ruthenian, Polish?" I asked.
"Slavish."
[Pg 181]
"Oh-ho, he-he, da-da, I thought you were a Polak."
And now he thought I was a Russian! It touched me rather tenderly. I was dressed like an American, and my attire24 was not like that of a Russian at all. How enthusiastic this boy was! It was a real holiday for him. The Slav peoples are emotional; they need every now and then a means of publicly expressing their feelings. This procession from the town to the graveyard25 was a link with the customs of their native land, where at least twice a year the living have a feast among the crosses and mounds26 of the cemetery, and share their joys and interests with the dear dead, whose bodies have been given back to earth.
Among those accompanying the procession were Austrian Slavs, in soot-coloured, broad-brimmed, broken-crowned hats, not yet cast away; and I noted27 solemn-faced, placid28 Russian peasants in overalls29 staring with half-awakened comprehension. I saw a negro attired30 in faultless black cloth, having a bunchy umbrella in his hand, a heavy gold chain across his waistcoat, a cigar in his mouth, a soft smoky hat on his head. He tried to get to the front, and I heard one white man say to another, "Make way for him, it's not your funeral." The negro is a pretty important person—considering that the war was really fought for him. Perhaps not many actively31 remember that now; it is not soothing32 to do so. It is the American[Pg 182] hero who matters more than the cause for which he fell; though of course America, the idea of America, matters more than either the heroes or the cause. It is a pity that on Decoration Day there is a tendency to decorate the graves of those who fell in the Spanish War and to pin medals on the survivors33 of that conflict rather than to perpetuate34 the memory of the struggle for the emancipation35 of the negro. America's great problem is the negro whom she has released; but the Spanish War meant no more than that America's arm proved strong enough to defeat a European power inclined to meddle36 with her civilisation37.
It was, however, at the oldest grave in the cemetery that the procession stopped and the people gathered. All the men were uncovered, and there was a feeling of unusual respect and emotion in the crowd. The wreaths were put down and the flags lowered as the little memorial service commenced. We sang an old hymn2, slowly, sweetly, and very sadly, so that one's very soul melted. A hymn of the war, I suppose:
Let him sleep,
Calmly sleep,
While the days and the years roll by.
Let him sleep,
Sweetly sleep,
Till the call of the roll on high.
In the time of the war, in the dark hours of danger and distress38, in the times of loss and appalling39 [Pg 183]personal sorrow the Americans were very near and dear to God and to one another—nearer than they are to-day in their peace and prosperity.
When the hymn had been sung, an old grey-headed man came to the foot of the grave and read a portion of the speech made by Abraham Lincoln at the great cemetery at Gettysburg:
Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth40 on this continent a new nation conceived in liberty and dedicated41 to the proposition that all men are created equal. We are now engaged in a great Civil War, testing whether that nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield ... to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who have given their lives that the nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But in a larger sense we cannot consecrate42 this ground. The dead themselves have consecrated43 it. It is rather for us, the living, to consecrate ourselves to the work they died for, that we resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.
The reading of these words was most impressive. I realised in it the Gospel of America—something more national than even the starry44 flag.
When the reading was accomplished45 the eight veterans fired their salute, not up at heaven, but across and over the people's heads, as at an unseen enemy. Then the old grey-headed man who had read the words of Lincoln pronounced the blessing46:
[Pg 184]
The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God....
And we dispersed47 to wander among the graves and see the decorations, and add decorations of our own if we willed. Wherever I went, the haunting air was in my ears:
Let him sleep,
Sweetly sleep,
Till the call of the roll on high.
Americans believe very really in the roll-call. They believe that they will answer to their names on a great last day—"When the roll is called up yonder, I'll be there," says a popular hymn. It is all important to the American that he feels he lives and dies for the Right, for the moral virtues48. The glory of the wars which the Americans have fought in their history is not only that they, the Americans, were victorious49, but that they were morally right before ever they started out to fight.
Well, civilisation has approved the abolition50 of slavery. The great mass of people nowadays consider slavery as something wrong in itself. The North took up its weapons and convinced the South, and the negro was freed. The peculiar51 horrors of slavery no longer exist—no one man has power of life and death over the African. That much the war has achieved. But it is strange that for the rest the[Pg 185] negro seems to have become worse off, and that America feels that she cannot extend the personal privileges of democracy to the blacks. America has brutalised the nigger; has made of a very gentle, loving and lovable if very simple creature, an outcast, a beast, who may not sit beside an ordinary man. It has in its own nervous imagination accused him of hideous52 crimes which he did not commit, did not even imagine; it has deprived him of the law, tortured him, flayed53 him, burned him at the stake. It has made a black man a bogey54; so that a fluttering white woman, finding herself alone in the presence of a negro, will rush away in terror, crying "murder," "rape," "fire," just because she has seen the whites of his eyes. Then the hot-blooded southern crowd comes out....
The war was a healthy war. It did much good, it strengthened the roots of many American families; it gave the nation a criterion for future development; it brought many individuals nearer to reality, brought them to the mystery of life, caused them to say each day their prayers to God. But if a war must be judged by its political effect, then as regards the happiness of the negro the war has not yet proved to be a success. The service by the graveside, and the apt words of Abraham Lincoln were a reminder55 to the American people that though they realise to themselves the maximum of prosperity the New World affords, and yet lose their souls, it profits them nothing.[Pg 186] America by her unwritten but infallible charter is consecrated to freedom. If America is going to be true to itself it must work for freedom, it must carry out the idea of freedom. The emigrant56 from Europe expects to realise in America the idea of freedom, the opportunity for personal and individual development. He does not expect to find repeated there the caste system and relative industrial slavery of the East.
* * * * * * *
Clearfield was much touched by the graveside service. The whole evening after it the men in the hotel lounge talked American sentiment. The lads and lasses crowded into the cinema houses, and watched with much edification the specially57 instructive set of films which, on the recommendation of the town council, had been specially installed for the occasion,—the perils58 of life for a young girl going to dance-halls, the Soudanese at work, Japanese children at play, the ferocious59 habits of the hundred-legs, a review of troops at Tiflis, a portrait of the Governor of Mississippi wearing a high silk hat, pottery-making in North Borneo, the Pathé news. It was good to see so many pictures of foreign and dark-skinned people presented in an interesting and sympathetic manner. The Americans need to care more for the national life of other races. For they are often strangely contemptuous of the people they conceive to be wasting their time.
[Pg 187]
I had a pleasant talk with a doctor who was extremely keen on "temperance." He struck up acquaintance with me by complimenting me on my complexion60, and betting I didn't touch spirituous liquors. "The war's still going on," said he. "I wage my part against drink and disease. I'd like to make the medical profession a poor one to enter, yes, sirr. I'd like to uproot61 disease, and if I could stop the drinking in America I'd do it. Never touch liquor and you'll never have gout, live to a good age, and be happy. I am glad to meet you, sir, glad to meet a Briton. America will stand shoulder and shoulder with the British in war or peace. They are of the same blood. The only two civilised nations in the world."
All the same, Clearfield regarded me with some suspicion, and as I sat at my bedroom window at night a young man called up:
"English Gawd: Lord Salisbury."
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1
hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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3
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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salutes
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| n.致敬，欢迎，敬礼( salute的名词复数 )v.欢迎，致敬( salute的第三人称单数 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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7
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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automobiles
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| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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worthies
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| 应得某事物( worthy的名词复数 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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11
boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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12
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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13
hooting
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| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的现在分词 )； 倒好儿； 倒彩 | |
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14
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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15
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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16
militia
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| n.民兵，民兵组织 | |
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17
muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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18
technically
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| adv.专门地，技术上地 | |
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19
squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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20
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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21
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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22
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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23
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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24
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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25
graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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26
mounds
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| 土堆，土丘( mound的名词复数 )； 一大堆 | |
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27
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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28
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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overalls
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| n.（复）工装裤；长罩衣 | |
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30
attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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32
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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33
survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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34
perpetuate
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| v.使永存，使永记不忘 | |
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35
emancipation
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| n.（从束缚、支配下）解放 | |
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36
meddle
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| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
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37
civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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38
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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39
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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40
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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41
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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42
consecrate
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| v.使圣化，奉…为神圣；尊崇；奉献 | |
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43
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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44
starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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45
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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46
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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47
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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48
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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49
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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50
abolition
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| n.废除，取消 | |
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51
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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52
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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53
flayed
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| v.痛打( flay的过去式和过去分词 )；把…打得皮开肉绽；剥（通常指动物）的皮；严厉批评 | |
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54
bogey
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| n.令人谈之变色之物；妖怪，幽灵 | |
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55
reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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56
emigrant
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| adj.移居的，移民的；n.移居外国的人，移民 | |
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57
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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58
perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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60
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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uproot
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| v.连根拔起，拔除；根除，灭绝；赶出家园，被迫移开 | |
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