Huckster Wagons, Raspberry-Ade Saloons, and His Accidental Excellency: The Dedication of Antietam National Cemetery
Writing from Sharpsburg, Maryland on September 18, 1867, the correspondent of the Summit County Beacon fairly hissed with derision at what he considered the botched dedication of the Antietam National Cemetery.
“The Antietam dedication was pronounced
a grand failure, like everything else with which Andy’s Johnson’s name has been
connected,” he offered. “Everything connected with the performance was in a
jumble, there being no programme, no order, no police, no managers. For six
hours that vast multitude swung around in the hot sun, patiently waiting for
the coming cargo of human depravity from the city of Washington. Andy Johnson
was the butt end of ridicule and jests all day long. I heard not a respectable
word spoken of his accidental Excellency.”
This scathing article, written for a Republican newspaper that clearly was not in Johnson’s camp, paints a dim picture of the dedication of one of the most important national cemeteries in the country. Within a few months of this article being published, the House of Representatives would vote to impeach President Johnson.
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| The massive crowds that gathered at Sharpsburg for the cemetery dedication were said to number more than 25,000; governors from 18 Northern states also attended the dedication. |
Yesterday, the 17th
instant, President [Andrew] Johnson and his cortege appeared on the battlefield
of Antietam to disgrace with their presence the formal and solemn dedication of
the cemetery. Extensive preparations had been made weeks in advance for the
occasion. Everybody for 25 miles around expected to make a small fortune on
that memorable day. So many huckster wagons, improvised groceries, and “raspberry-ade”
saloons I never saw before. The half of their stock was not disposed of because
nearly everybody going with a team carried lunch enough along for the whole
family.
All night previous could be heard the
rattle and clatter of wagons and vehicles of all kinds rolling over the hard
pike. From daylight to 10 o’clock one continuous stream of pedestrians,
horsemen, buggies, carriages, and omnibuses poured in on every converging road.
My headquarters were located three miles from the cemetery; hence you see I had
not far to go and at 8:15 I was on the ground. Such a mass of people in so
small a compass I never saw before. Such a scene will only be witnessed once or
twice in a lifetime.
From the cemetery there lies all
around you one of the most magnificent views you ever gazed upon. The blue range
of South Mountain looms up for many miles north and south, throwing out huge
spurs like the black panes of some couchant monster. Quite a large portion of
the battlefield can be seen from the grounds of the cemetery. The ground
evident was well chosen, but neither army had the advantage of the other.
The cemetery contains 9 acres of land,
having lately been enclosed with a high and beautiful limestone wall fronted
with a magnificent iron fence. Here in this consecrated ground repose the
mortal remains of roughly 5,000 Union soldiers. How silently they sleep the
sleep of death and no trumpet shall wake them to glory again.
What a contrast from five years ago! Then thousands of human
beings met in hostile array and prepared for mortal combat. Then there was to
be heard the dread booming of the cannons, the clash of arms, the dash and
crash of charges, the fierce voices of victory here and there along the lines. Then
could be seen the cautious advance and the hurried retreat, the red blaze of
artillery, the gleam of 10,000 bayonets, the smoke of the carnage, the field
strewn with the dead and the dying.
Now everything is symbolic of peace. Groups of brave men and
fair women are wandering in all directions, reading the tombstones of the
fallen heroes, and gazing on every object of interest. Ladies, dressed in their
best and brightest attire of red, white, and blue and flushing with the charm
of beauty; gentlemen rejoicing in the best their wardrobes could afford and
deporting themselves with dignity and sobriety now present a spectacle of
silent grandeur most glorious to contemplate.
The Antietam dedication was pronounced a grand failure, like
everything else with which Andy’s Johnson’s name has been connected. Everything
connected with the performance was in a jumble, there being no programme, no
order, no police, no managers. For six hours that vast multitude swung around
in the hot sun, part of the time drenched in rain, patiently waiting for the
coming cargo of human depravity from the city of Washington. There being no
shelter for anybody, the spectacle presented by the ladies in muddy skirts and
draggled dresses, running like shanghais in all directions, was ludicrous in
the extreme. But as misery loves company, all with one consent took it as a
free joke. A suppressed murmur was heard all through that audience. Andy
Johnson was the butt end of ridicule and jests all day long. I heard not a
respectable word spoken of his accidental Excellency.
Finally, when patience was very rapidly ceasing to be a
virtue, a 2 o’clock Andy and his ingrates, preceded by a lager beer brass band
and a regiment of national guards slowly rose over the hill. What a reception!
Save the dull booming of a 72-pounder, not a huzzah, not a lifted hat, not the
waving of a flag, not one burst of applause greeted the depraved President and
his lackeys. It was indeed a funeral procession- the last demonstration we hope
that great failure will ever attempt.
When it was ascertained that General Grant and staff were not
to be present, the people became disgusted and without waiting to hear the
speeches or to witness the formal laying of the cornerstone by the Order of
Freemasons, thousands immediately started for home. The great majority of the
people came ostensibly to see General Grant and not A.J. The whole thing was a
Johnsonian concern, both in inception, development, and consummation. We
noticed on the stand besides the President was Secretary [William H.] Seward,
Randall, Governor Swann, Ex-Governor Bradford (orator of the day), General
Fenton, General [John] Geary (who attracted more attention than any other man),
part of our foreign diplomatic corps, and a number of major and brigadier
generals.
Two torn and tattered flags, relics of the Antietam contest, hardly the semblance of what they once were and for that reason more to be honored, borne by sturdy veterans to the graves of the heroic dead who died under its floating folds, gave me more inspiration and produced within me more genuine patriotism than all else besides. Walking six miles that day and standing on my feet for seven tedious hours gaping and gazing at a crowd who did the same business, long shall I remember the disappointments of the day.
While our correspondent makes no mention of President Johnston’s speech, it did raise hackles amongst the Republican press of the time, especially because of one line in which the president remarked on “the brave men of both sides who fell in the fierce struggle of battle.” The Cleveland Morning Leader lamented Johnson’s speech saying, “The more the Antietam ceremony is sifted, the deeper is the disgust with it. The egotistical speech of Johnson with its perfidious allusion to the Rebel dead…should make the nation blush for this desecration of that glorious cemetery.” Concluding that Johnson’s speech “reads like a sickening, hideous, monstrous burlesque,” it concluded that “his tribute to the courage of the Rebel dead is, at least, strangely out of place on such an occasion.”
Sources:
“Antietam
Cemetery, Summit County Beacon (Ohio), October 3, 1867, pg. 1
“Speech By
the President,” Cleveland Morning Leader (Ohio), September 18, 1867, pg.
1
“Our Patriot
Dead Desecrated,” Cleveland Morning Leader (Ohio), September 19, 1867,
pg. 1
“The
Antietam Anniversary and President Johnson’s Speech,” Cleveland Morning Leader
(Ohio), September 19, 1867, pg. 2


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