{
  "schema": "tga.work.v1",
  "identifier": "dresden:vol-12:tribute-to-philo-d-beckwith",
  "slug": "tribute-to-philo-d-beckwith",
  "title": "A Tribute to Philo D. Beckwith",
  "subtitle": "Memorial tribute.",
  "excerpt": "Memorial tribute to Philo D. Beckwith.",
  "year": 1892,
  "volume": 12,
  "category": "Tribute",
  "author": {
    "name": "Robert G. Ingersoll",
    "wikidata": "Q360326",
    "viaf": "44331023"
  },
  "isPartOf": {
    "title": "The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll",
    "edition": "Dresden Edition",
    "publisher": "C. P. Farrell",
    "year": 1900
  },
  "license": "https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/",
  "url": "https://thegreatagnostic.com/works/tribute-to-philo-d-beckwith/",
  "wordCount": 728,
  "body": "A Tribute to Philo D. Beckwith\n\nDowagiac, Mich., January 25, 1893.\n\nLADIES and Gentlemen: Nothing is nobler than to plant the flower of\ngratitude on the grave of a generous man—of one who labored for the\ngood of all—whose hands were open and whose heart was full.\n\nPraise for the noble dead is an inspiration for the noble living.\n\nLoving words sow seeds of love in every gentle heart. Appreciation is\nthe soil and climate of good and generous deeds.\n\nWe are met to-night not to pay, but to acknowledge a debt of gratitude\nto one who lived and labored here—who was the friend of all and who for\nmany years was the providence of the poor. To one who left to those who\nknew him best, the memory of countless loving deeds—the richest legacy\nthat man can leave to man.\n\nWe are here to dedicate this monument to the stainless memory of Philo\nD. Beckwith—one of the kings of men.\n\nThis monument—this perfect theatre—this beautiful house of\ncheerfulness and joy—this home and child of all the arts—this temple\nwhere the architect, the sculptor and painter united to build and\ndecorate a stage whereon the drama with a thousand tongues will tell\nthe frailties and the virtues of the human race, and music with her\nthrilling voice will touch the source of happy tears.\n\nThis is a fitting monument to the man whose memory we honor—to one,\nwho broadening with the years, outgrew the cruel creeds, the heartless\ndogmas of his time—to one who passed from superstition to science—from\nreligion to reason—from theology to humanity—from slavery to\nfreedom—from the shadow of fear to the blessed light of love and\ncourage. To one who believed in intellectual hospitality—in the perfect\nfreedom of the soul, and hated tyranny, in every form, with all his\nheart.\n\nTo one whose head and hands were in partnership constituting the firm\nof Intelligence and Industry, and whose heart divided the profits with\nhis fellow-men. To one who fought the battle of life alone, without the\naid of place or wealth, and yet grew nobler and gentler with success.\n\nTo one who tried to make a heaven here and who believed in the blessed\ngospel of cheerfulness and love—of happiness and hope.\n\nAnd it is fitting, too, that this monument should be adorned with the\nsublime faces, wrought in stone, of the immortal dead—of those who\nbattled for the rights of man—who broke the fetters of the slave—of\nthose who filled the minds of men with poetry, art, and light—of\nVoltaire, who abolished torture in France and who did more for liberty\nthan any other of the sons of men—of Thomas Paine, whose pen did as\nmuch as any sword to make the New World free—of Victor Hugo, who wept\nfor those who weep—of Emerson, a worshiper of the Ideal, who filled\nthe mind with suggestions of the perfect—of Goethe, the\npoet-philosopher—of Whitman, the ample, wide as the sky—author of the\ntenderest, the most pathetic, the sublimest poem that this continent has\nproduced—of Shakespeare, the King of all—of Beethoven, the divine,—of\nChopin and Verdi and of Wagner, grandest of them all, whose music\nsatisfies the heart and brain and fills imagination's sky—of George\nEliot, who wove within her brain the purple robe her genius wears—of\nGeorge Sand, subtle and sincere, passionate and free—and with\nthese—faces of those who, on the stage, have made the mimic world as\nreal as life and death.\n\nBeneath the loftiest monuments may be found ambition's worthless dust,\nwhile those who lived the loftiest lives are sleeping now in unknown\ngraves.\n\nIt may be that the bravest of the brave who ever fell upon the field of\nruthless war, was left without a grave to mingle slowly with the land he\nsaved.\n\nBut here and now the Man and Monument agree, and blend like sounds that\nmeet and melt in melody—a monument for the dead—a blessing for the\nliving—a memory of tears—a prophecy of joy.\n\nFortunate the people where this good man lived, for they are all his\nheirs—and fortunate for me that I have had the privilege of laying this\nlittle laurel leaf upon his unstained brow.\n\nAnd now, speaking for those he loved—for those who represent the\nhonored dead—I dedicate this home of mirth and song—of poetry and\nart—to the memory of Philo D. Beckwith—a true philosopher—a real\nphilanthropist.\n"
}