Francis Jackson Garrison, William Lloyd Garrison, 1805-1879; the story of his life told by his children: volume 3

[263] died. A cold brought on brain fever, the nature and¹ gravity of the case were not realized, domestic medication was attempted, and in a defective steam-bath the unfortunate child was fatally scalded. The stroke to the parents was the more tremendous not only because of these circumstances, but because no one of their flock was so robust, blooming, and charged with vitality, or had so endeared himself to their affections. He bore a certain facial resemblance to Dr. Follen, and, in his father's words,² gave ‘promise of future usefulness and excellence in some degree commensurate with the worth and fame of the truly great and good man after whom he was named admiringly, gratefully, reverently.’ His mother never fully recovered from the blow. “Every hour, indeed every moment,” Memorial of H. E. Garrison, p. 29. she wrote to a friend at the time, ‘he is before me in all his beauty and freshness; and I long to clasp him to my heart, and hear once more those joyous notes which would be music to my soul. I try to be resigned, I endeavor to be cheerful, but it is all forced; my heart is ready to break.’ Her husband's grief was hardly less poignant or lasting:

W. L. Garrison to Elizabeth Pease.

Boston, June 20, 1849.

³ The first subject to which my mind naturally reverts is the sudden death of our noble little boy, Charles Follen. For your consolatory letter, touching this great bereavement, dear Helen⁴ unites with me in proffering heartfelt acknowledgments. In the hour of affliction, the sympathetic expressions and comforting suggestions of friends are of priceless value. These we have had, in great variety, and they have helped to mitigate our sorrow. That sorrow, however, was not caused so much by the mere fact of his removal as by other considerations.

Death itself to me is not terrible, is not repulsive, is not to be deplored. I see in it as clear an evidence of Divine wisdom and beneficence as I do in the birth of a child, in the works of creation, in all the arrangements and operations of nature. I neither fear nor regret its power. I neither expect nor supplicate to be exempted from its legitimate action. It is not