A Memorable Scene – The Tribute to His Beloved Brother
The tribute paid by Mr. Ingersoll to his beloved brother Ebon was everywhere acknowledged to be the most profoundly tender and beautiful in English literature. It has become classic.
The scene of its utterance, in its whole setting, was solemnly dramatic. Around the bier, gathered as mourners, were many of the first men of the Nation. They had come, not only in sympathy with the grief-stricken brother, but to mingle their tears with his in homage of their late friend and associate.
The Hon. Ebon C. Ingersoll was well known in social and official circles in Washington. He was a Member of Congress, a staunch Republican and true patriot, and well and faithfully served his Illinois constituency. He was a wise legislator, a man of unbending integrity, a true and loyal friend. As a lawyer he was able and well equipped, and while a forceful speaker, was not as “dearly parted” as his brilliant brother although he was a wise and safe counsellor.
In religious belief he was a firm Agnostic, an ardent supporter of Robert in all campaigns against superstition and fanaticism, and he gloried in his fame as the greatest orator of the day. As Mr. Ingersoll has said: “It was from his lips I heard the first words of encouragement and praise.” Ebon C. was a worthy companion of Robert G., and an honor to the family whose name he bore.
The following vivid description of the scene attending the delivery of the Tribute, and of the funeral obsequies, is taken from the National Republican of Washington, published the day after the funeral:
“The funeral of the Hon. E. C. Ingersoll took place yesterday afternoon at four o’clock, from his late residence, 1403 K Street. The spacious parlors were filled to overflowing, and hundreds were unable to obtain admittance… Among those who were present to pay their homage to the distinguished and It was the largest gathering of distinguished persons assembled at a funeral since that of Chief-Justice Chase.”
“The only ceremony at the house, other than the viewing of the remains, was a most affecting, pathetic and touching address by Col. Robert G. Ingersoll, brother of the deceased.
When he began to read his eloquent characterization of the dead man his eyes at once filled with tears. He tried to hide them, but he could not do it, and finally he bowed his head upon the dead man’s coffin in uncontrollable grief. It was only after some delay, and the greatest efforts at self-mastery, that Colonel Ingersoll was able to finish reading his address…
Dear Friends: I am going to do that which the dead oft promised he would do for me.
“The loved and loving brother, husband, father, friend, died where manhood’s morning almost touches noon, and while the shadows still were falling toward the west.
He had not passed on life’s highway the stone that marks the highest point; but being weary for a moment, he lay down by the wayside, and using his burden for a pillow, fell into that dreamless sleep that kisses down his eyelids still. While yet in love with life and raptured with the world, he passed to silence and pathetic dust.
Yet, after all, it may be best, just in the happiest, sunniest hour of all the voyage, while eager winds are kissing every sail, to dash against the unseen rock, and in an instant hear the billows roar above a sunken ship.
For whether in mid sea or ‘mong the breakers of the farther shore, a wreck at last must mark the end of each and all. And every life, no matter if its every hour is rich with love and every moment jeweled with a joy, will, at its close, become a tragedy as sad and deep and dark as can be woven of the warp and woof of mystery and death.”
This brave and tender man in every storm of life was oak and rock; but in the sunshine he was vine and flower. He was the friend of all heroic souls. He climbed the heights, and left all superstitions far below, while on his forehead fell the golden dawning of the grander day.
He loved the beautiful, and was with color, form, and music touched to tears. He sided with the weak, the poor and wronged, and lovingly gave alms. With loyal heart and with the purest hands he faithfully discharged all public trusts.
He was a worshipper of liberty, a friend of the oppressed. A thousand times I have heard him quote these words: ‘For Justice all place a temple, and all season, summer.’ He believed that happiness is the only good, reason the only torch, justice the only worship, humanity the only religion, and love the only priest. He added to the sum of human joy; and were every one to whom he did some loving service to bring a blossom to his grave, he would sleep to-night beneath a wilderness of flowers.
Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two eternities. We strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We cry aloud, and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry. From the voiceless lips of the unreplying dead there comes no word; but in the night of death Hope sees a star and listening Love can hear the rustle of a wing.
He who sleeps here, when dying, mistaking the approach of death for the return of health, whispered with his latest breath, ‘I am better now.’ Let us believe, in spite of doubts and dogmas, of fears and tears, that these dear words are true of all the countless dead.
The record of a generous life runs like a vine around the memory of our dead, and every sweet, unselfish act is now a perfumed flower.
And now, to you, who have been chosen from among the many men he loved, to do the last sad office for the dead, we give his sacred dust.
Speech cannot contain our love. There was, there is, no gentler, stronger, manlier man.