X.
The following day was the
New England Sabbath, and it dawned without a cloud.
All things betokened the coming spring.
‘In every sheltered place,’ said the
Post, ‘the grass was springing fresh and green, and the birds piped merry melodies from the limbs of the budding trees.
The face of nature was gay, but many sad hearts were abroad, and thousands as they slowly made their way to the various places of worship, thought of departed worth and genius rather than of the glories of the natural world.
In almost every pulpit of the city, words were spoken in eulogy of
Mr. Sumner.’
This volume could not contain them all. The pulpit of the
Church of the Disciples was tastefully draped in purple—in this case, more than royal mourning,—and on the table stood a bust of
Sumner.
Not venturing to speak at length, the address of the pastor,
James freeman
Clarke, was read.
From it we take a few passages:
The friends who have fought by his side during long years when success seemed hopeless, whose little barques have sailed attendant on his and partaken the same gales; younger men who have chosen him for their leader, and amid the thick of battle pressed on where they saw his white plume waving, now clasp hands in silent sympathy.
The colored people, whose hearts are always right, though their heads are often wrong, now recognize in him the best friend their race have ever had; a friend who with his dying breath still besought that equal rights might be given them.
Massachusetts, disgraced by an unauthorized act of one of her Legislatures, hastened to right the wrong where it was
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given, and happily her voice reached him in the Senate Chamber before he left it forever.
Even those who opposed him now hasten to revise their opinions and float in the great current of sympathy.
The American people admire smart people, but this event has shown that Charles Sumner is loved. So it was shown that the people loved Abraham Lincoln and John A. Andrew, and they were men of the same type of honesty, sincerity, and conscience.
He was unpopular from first to last.
He loved peace with all his heart, but was always in war. He loved approbation, but never bought it. He loved the good — will of men, but was obliged to relinquish it. He loved sunshine, but had to live in storms.
His fidelity to principle cost him dearly.
Abraham Lincoln and Sumner were always friends.
Difference of opinion never estranged them.
Many disliked Sumner because he always kept himself on that upper level of principle.
The air was not suited for them to breathe.
He would not come down to the more comfortable platform of party expediency.
When a man dies whose virtues have created hostility there often comes a singular reaction.
It was the case with Lincoln when the nation was weeping ‘in the passion of an angry grief,’ and so it is with Charles Sumner.
Death removing him from our outward eye enables us to see him inwardly and truly.
Thus we have looked at a mountain and only seen the creeping mists and clouds which concealed it. So when the west wind moved the air the vapors suddenly were dispersed and the pure snowy summits came out in sharp outline against the blue sky. Death does the office of that cold wind.
After the earthquake and fire and whirlwind of passionate and godless strife have passed, death comes and the Lord speaks in that still small voice.
When any important subject came up, Sumner, being a statesman and not a mere politician, always studied it in the light of history and political science, without reference to party interests.
He sought to declare the truth. The country is in peril to-day because there are so few statesmen in public life.
He believed in men and his life was devoted to the service of his fellow-men, high and low, rich and poor, white and black.
In him man was sacred.
During all the long contest with slavery his voice was heard like a trumpet appealing for the rights of man. He stood conspicuous in the nation's eye, a young Apollo ‘In silent majesty of stern disdain,’ and dreadful was the clangor of his silver bow as he shot his arrows thick and fast into the sophisms used by the slave-holders and their allies.
When they could not reply by argument
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they silenced him with murderous blows, but Sumner did as much for the cause of freedom by his suffering as he had done by his speech.
When the news reached Boston of that assault, a meeting was hastily called.
The men who ought to have spoken were absent, and, said Mr. Clarke, I remember with some pleasure that I had the opportunity of speaking first in Boston against that cowardly, brutal, and murderous assault.
But many a man who did not raise his voice in public at that time took a vow of hostility in his heart against the institution which prompted that assassination.
Once, while Mr. Sumner was here in Boston, still suffering from those injuries, I called at his house in Hancock Street. He was resting in an easy-chair, and with him were three gentlemen.
He introduced them to me, one as Captain John Brown, of Ossawattamie.
They were speaking of this assault by Preston Brooks, and Mr. Sumner remarked: ‘The coat I had on at that time is in that closet.
The collar is stiff with blood.
You can see it if you please.’
Captain John Brown arose, went to the closet, slowly opened the door, carefully took down the coat and looked at it for a few moments with the reverence with which a Roman Catholic regards the relics of a saint.
Perhaps the sight caused him to feel a still deeper horror of slavery, and to take a stronger resolution of attacking it in its strongholds.
So the blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church.
Allusion was made to the encouragement that Mr. Sumner took when discouraged and unhappy from the fear that his work was done forever after the assault, by reading certain lines of Milton, of which he was very fond.
Milton still lives in his great example, and so does Sumner.
Milton stood by the side of Sumner in that dark hour, and so shall Sumner inspire and awaken other souls centuries hence, so that they in turn can say, ‘I have fought the good fight; I have finished my course; I have kept the faith.’
He then spoke of Mr. Sumner's visit to a Wednesday evening meeting at this church, and how his heart went out to the young people there, and what a happy evening it was. Nothing could be more modest, genial and friendly than were his words and conversation at that time.
A happy smile was on his face all the evening, and I could not but fancy that he felt more at home among those youthful admirers than in the Senate chamber or among his political associates.
It is a pleasant memory to carry in our hearts.
Few of the ten thousand pulpits of
New England but paid tributes to the virtues of the deceased Statesman.
