HONOR to the dead! Over the body of Major-General Henry W. Lawton were performed at Manila, on December 30, 1899, the military funeral rites commensurate with his rank. He was given the full measure of the little
left for men who had fought by his side and loved him to do in honor of the memory of a brave,
great, man, before his country, so far away, took him back and tenderly laid him to rest beneath the softened shades of Arlington. Peace to his soul!
At the chapel in Paco Cemetery,
Chaplain Pierce's resonant voice rose and fell, in the hush of the vaulted chamber, in one short, earnest prayer. This room has been the temporary resting-place of Spanish dead for a century
past---here in state have lain Spanish officers of high rank and Spanish dignitaries, with the kneeling figures of priests at the head and foot of the silent forms, intoning masses amid the smoke and glare of rows upon rows of candles.
For the first time the remains of a great American have rested on the
marble catafalque. During nine days sentinels have stood at the
head and foot of the coffin continuously, and a platoon of the Forty-fifth Infantry
have guarded the entrance to the cemetery grounds.
General Lawton's staff-officers requested the privilege of acting as the actual bearers of the casket, and of marching by its side in the funeral procession. The request was granted, though the regulations provide that sergeants shall carry the remains. These men, who have labored side by side with the general
and loyally loved him, felt that to their tender keeping his body belonged until the last possible moment.
At ten in the morning there passed through the arched gateway of the old cemetery a cosmopolitan mixture of men of different nationalities. Even the hermit General Otis was there, and was gazed upon with interest and curiosity by both the populace and military
men, most of whom did not even know him, until he was pointed out by the handful who
did. The Filipino Supreme Court judges were out in full force, wearing dead-black clothes and expansive shirt fronts. The foreign consuls, in uniforms lavishly decorated with braid and gold,
moved toward the chapel with uncovered heads. Closely gathered outside the gate was another still more heterogeneous crowd, a thousand strong, where soldiers, Filipinos, Englishmen, Chinese, and Spaniards elbowed for room in the hot sunshine, and surged forward toward the empty artillery caisson and the mourners' carriages, only to be forced back by the alert native policemen. On a side street the naval battalion, in pure white, stood at parade rest, while down the avenue of march
a full regiment of the Fourteenth Infantry, under Colonel Daggett, lined the
roadway; beyond them was Taylor's light battery of the Fourth Artillery; and still farther down, past General Lawton's old headquarters on Calle Nozeleda,
was a squadron of the Fourth Cavalry under Major Rogers.
They were coming. Those outside the gates knew it by the reverential baring of the head by those at the entrance; and soldiers, civilians, and natives alike uncovered for
a block away.
A casket bedded deep in natural and porcelain flowers (wreaths and crosses, with huge black streamers lettered in staring gold with the initials of the Spanish and Filipino donors, as is the custom of the country) was borne by the arms of the
staff-officers. There was something very touching in the sight of these men, who
had looked up to General Lawton, with his strong, dominant spirit in life, now bearing him silently, tearfully toward his grave.
The guns boom out a salute of honor to the dead, and far in the distance the strains of a funeral march float
back to the embowered coffin, now moving slowly forward on the soldier's
hearse---a rumbling caisson drawn by six powerful horses. Close by its side
step the staff-officers. Before it are Chaplains Pierce and Marvin gowned and surpliced. Behind it, in black carriages, are the honorary
pall-bearers---Generals Schwan, Bates, and Wheeler, Admiral Watson, Captain
Forsythe, and Colonel Barry; and closely following are the mourners; then the officers and soldiers of General Lawton's former command; the officers and naval battalion
from the Asiatic squadron; the Military Governor of the Philippines and his staff, the officers of the foreign consulates; the president
and members of the Supreme Court of the Philippines; the presidents and head men of barrios, and
other distinguished persons.
In the lead of the funeral procession are two companies of the new Filipino police. They are rounding the corner of the street leading into the
far-famed a square where, in the past, atrocities and merriment have been
hideously blended in the same day.
As the funeral train passes, the entire regiment of the Thirty-eighth Infantry stands stiffly at support arms,
on the side of the open square. Behind them the extent of field is closely covered with their camp of shelter-tents
Down the magnificent driveway the procession comes,
on the one side the blue waters of the Manila Bay, dotted with the distant white ships of the navy and transport fleets, as in
a fairy scene, and on the other the moss-covered battlements of the walled city, where the
mouths of brass cannon yawn from every massive embrasure, and a score of churches and
convents break the sky-line irregularly with domes and sharp-gabled, red-tiled roofs. The walls behind and the
high-banked earth-works protecting modern guns in the foreground are thronged with people watching the novel ceremonies over a departed major-general.
The roadway gathers itself into a final circle around a small monument on the bank of the Pasig. It is here the tugboat which is to receive
the remains lies, tied to the shore. General Hall and his staff halt at the shaft; the cavalry, with clanking sabres, swing from
heavy column into line and back their restless horses clear of the road. The battery has wheeled off the avenue some distance back, into a side street leading through the heavy portals of the walled city, and the infantry, in company front and perfect step, close
up the breach, fall into column of fours, and then by the right front, until the entire regiment stands facing the street, waiting for the passage of
the bier and the command " Support arms."
Through the walls of rigid foot-soldiers and cavalrymen with bright sabres held aloft, General Lawton is taking his last ride in the Philippines. There are few men in the stiffly erect ranks who do not exhibit strong emotion in their faces. This
clay to which they do honor was once the embodiment of all that appeals to a true soldier's
heart---integrity, courage. and kindliness. He appreciated the fighting-man and mourned the loss of brave men in battle;
he willingly suffered the same privations as the enlisted man; he was known, on occasion, to ignore his rank and work side by side with the common soldier, and every soldier knew
it, and respected and admired him the more.
With bared heads the pall-bearers again stand about the coffin, while Chaplain Marvin sends
up a prayer. As the first voice ceases Chaplain Pierce steps forward, tenderly laying his land upon the head of the casket, and from his lips fall the beautiful words of this benediction: "Unto God's gracious mercy and protection we commit thee. The Lord have thy body and thy people in His keeping on the great deep. The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee and give thee Peace, both now and evermore. Amen."
As the little boat dropped down the river's tide, bearing the body to the transport, a bugler on shore stepped forward, and raising the trumpet to his lips, blew softly and sweetly the sad notes of "taps." Men stood with uncovered heads, and tears streaming down their faces, listening to that call blown at the close of the soldier's day and of his life, and
the minds of many of them formed the words of the verse, "Go to sleep. Go to sleep.... The day is done."
Lawton's life work was over.
WILLIAM DINWIDDIE.
Harper's Weekly, report of Feb 17, 1900
