C. Edwards Lester, Life and public services of Charles Sumner: Born Jan. 6, 1811. Died March 11, 1874.

[226] ‘mercantile interest’ frowned upon the endeavors to suppress the atrocity of Algerine Slavery; steadfastly in England it sought to baffle Wilberforce's great effort for the abolition of the African Slave-trade; and, at the formation of our own Constitution, it stipulated a sordid compromise, by which this same detested, Heaven-defying traffic, was saved for twenty years from American judgment. But now it is all changed—at least in Boston. The representatives of the ‘mercantile interest’ place themselves in the front of the new movement against Slavery, and, by their explicit memorial, call for the abatement of a grievance which they have bitterly felt in Boston.

Mr. President, this memorial is interesting to me, first, as it asks a repeal of the Fugitive Slave Bill, and secondly, as it comes from Massachusetts. That repeal I shall be glad at any time, now and hereafter, as in times past, to sustain by vote and argument; and I trust never to fail in any just regard for the sentiments or interests of Massachusetts. With these few remarks, I would gladly close. But there has been an arraignment here to-day, both of myself and of the Common-wealth which I represent. To all that has been said of myself or the Commonwealth—so far as it is an impeachment of either—so far as it subjects either to any just censure, I plead openly, for myself and for Massachusetts, ‘not guilty.’ But pardon me, if I do not submit to be tried by the Senate, fresh from the injustice of the Nebraska Bill. In the language of the common law I put myself upon ‘God and the country,’ and claim the same trial for my honored Commonwealth.

So far as the arraignment touches me personally, I hardly care to speak.

In response for Massachusetts, there are other things. Something surely must be pardoned to her history. In Massachusetts stands Boston. In Boston stands Faneuil Hall, where, throughout the perils which preceded the Revolution, our patriot fathers assembled to vow themselves to Freedom. Here in those days, spoke James Otis, full of the thought that ‘the people's safety is the law of God.’ Here, also, spoke Joseph Warren, inspired by the sentiment that ‘death with all its tortures is preferable to Slavery.’ And here, also, thundered John Adams, fervid with the conviction that ‘consenting to Slavery is a sacrilegious breach of trust.’ Not far from this venerable Hall—between this temple of freedom and the very court-house, to which the Senator [Mr. Jones] has referred—is the street, where, in 1770, the first blood was spilt in conflict between British troops and American citizens, and among the victims was one of that African trace, which you so much despise. Almost within sight is Bunker Hill;