{
  "schema": "tga.work.v1",
  "identifier": "dresden:vol-12:tribute-to-thomas-corwin",
  "slug": "tribute-to-thomas-corwin",
  "title": "A Tribute to Thomas Corwin",
  "subtitle": "Memorial tribute.",
  "excerpt": "Memorial tribute to Thomas Corwin.",
  "year": 1897,
  "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-thomas-corwin/",
  "wordCount": 318,
  "body": "A Tribute to Thomas Corwin\n\nLebanon, Ohio, March 5, 1899.\n  • An Impromptu preface to Colonel Ingersoll's lecture at\n    Lebanon, Ohio.\n\nLADIES and Gentlemen: Being for the first time where Thomas Corwin lived\nand where his ashes rest, I cannot refrain from saying something of\nwhat I feel. Thomas Corwin was a natural orator—armed with the sword of\nattack and the shield of defence.\n\nNature filled his quiver with perfect arrows. He was the lord of logic\nand laughter. He had the presence, the pose, the voice, the face\nthat mirrored thoughts, the unconscious gesture of the orator. He had\nintelligence—a wide horizon—logic as unerring as mathematics—humor as\nrich as autumn when the boughs and vines bend with the weight of ripened\nfruit, while the forests flame with scarlet, brown and gold. He had wit\nas quick and sharp as lightning, and like the lightning it filled the\nheavens with sudden light.\n\nIn his laughter there was logic, in his wit wisdom, and in his humor\nphilosophy and philanthropy. He was a supreme artist. He painted\npictures with words. He knew the strength, the velocity of verbs, the\ncolor, the light and shade of adjectives.\n\nHe was a sculptor in speech—changing stones to statues. He had in\nhis heart the sacred something that we call sympathy. He pitied the\nunfortunate, the oppressed and the outcast His words were often wet\nwith tears—tears that in a moment after were glorified by the light of\nsmiles. All moods were his. He knew the heart, its tides and currents,\nits calms and storms, and like a skillful pilot he sailed emotion's\ntroubled sea. He was neither solemn nor dignified, because he was\nneither stupid nor egotistic. He was natural, and had the spontaneity\nof winds and waves. He was the greatest orator of his time, the grandest\nthat ever stood beneath our flag. Reverently I lay this leaf upon his\ngrave.\n"
}