“I have heard of crimes which betoken greater pravity of heart, but never have I heard or read of an act more flagitious in its open defiance of sacred rights, in its ruthless disregard of all humane sentiment and shameless violation of decency and order. We shall form a more just conception of the outrage by viewing it abstractedly from any interest we may feel in it as fellow-citizens of the parties concerned. Suppose we had read, among the items of recent transatlantic intelligence, that Count Buol, at the Peace Congress in Paris, offended by some expression of the Earl of Clarendon, had felled him to the ground with murderous blows. Imagine what a thrill of horror would have struck through the heart of Europe, and how the wrath of the nations would have chased the perpetrator of such an act from the face of the earth. Or suppose Mr. Hume, of the British Commons, had entered the House of Lords, and beaten Lord Brougham with a club until he was borne senseless from the spot. “With what confidence should we look to be advised by the next steamer that the culprit had been doomed to expiate his crime by the direst penalty which the laws of England have provided!—if, indeed, the English law has made any provision for such a case, and not rather, as the law of the Roman Commonwealth did the crime of parricide, left it unprovided for, as an impossible, unsupposable enormity.

“One supposition more. Conceive the situation of the parties in the case before us reversed. Suppose Senator Butler, who has said severer things of Mr. Sumner than Mr. Sumner of him, to have been the victim, and some member from Massachusetts, perhaps a far-away cousin of Mr. Sumner, to have been the aggressor. Does any one here present imagine that the ‘gallant relative’ in that case would be going about unmolested on a paltry bail of five hundred dollars? If the trusty bowie-knife or omnipresent revolver of Southern chivalry did not otherwise dispose of him, does any one doubt that the summary and prompt vengeance of Congress and the law would have been demanded by one side and conceded by the other?”

“The question before us is simply, whether you, here and now, consent to this change in our form of government, and accept the position which it assigns to you,—and whether you agree to transmit to your children this precious inheritance? For myself, I must decline the arrangement. I was born free, and I cannot be made a slave. I bow before the universal intelligence and conscience of my country, and when I think this defective, I claim the privilege of using my poor endeavors to enlighten it. But to submit my reason to the bludgeon of a bully or the pistol of an assassin I cannot; nor can I tamely behold a step taken which leads inevitably to such a consummation.

“You see that I consider this as a case of unusual solemnity. It becomes us to deliberate wisely, to resolve in view of the future as well as the past, and prepare ourselves to carry our resolutions out to all their legitimate conclusions, and, in doing this, to pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.”

“Nobody needs now to read this speech of Charles Sumner to know whether it is good. We measure the amount of the charge by the length of the rebound. [Cheers.] When the spear, driven to the quick, makes the Devil start up in his own likeness, we may be sure it is the spear of Ithuriel. [Great applause.] That is my way of measuring the speech which has produced this glorious result. Oh, yes, glorious! for the world will yet cover every one of those scars with laurels. [Enthusiastic cheering.] Sir, he must not die! We need him yet, as the vanguard leader of the hosts of Liberty. No, he shall yet come forth from that sick-chamber, and every gallant heart in the Commonwealth be ready to kiss his very footsteps. [Loud cheers.]

…

“Perhaps, Mr. Chairman and fellow-citizens, I am wrong; but I accept that speech of my loved and honored friend, and with an unmixed approbation,—read it with envious admiration,—take it all. [Cheers.] Yes, what word is there in it that any one of us would not have been proud to utter? Not one! [Great applause.] In utter scorn of the sickly taste, of the effeminate scholarship, that starts back, in delicate horror, at a bold illustration, I dare to say there is no animal God has condescended to make that man may not venture to name. [Applause.] And if any ground of complaint is supposable in regard to this comparison, which shocks the delicacy of some men and some presses, it is the animal, not Mr. Douglas, that has reason to complain. [Thunders of applause, renewed again and again.]

…

“Were this a party occasion, my feet would not be upon this platform; were this to stir up sectional animosity or promote local discord, my voice would never reverberate from these arches above my head; but when the State of Massachusetts is attacked in one of her dearest rights, one of her most glorious privileges, I should be recreant to my duty, I should be false to my trust, as every one who hears me would be, did I not protest against this infraction of our common rights. I wish, my friends, in order to give the greatest moral weight possible to this meeting, to give its proceedings the most cogent force, to assume in the outset that this case can in no wise, in no way, and under no consideration, be considered anything but a spontaneous expression of the sentiments of gentlemen of every party in the State of Massachusetts upon this question. The last time the eloquent and honorable Senator of Massachusetts addressed his fellow-citizens of Boston, he stood where I now stand, on the eve of the election in November last; and here, he being a Senator of Massachusetts in the Congress of the United States, and I being Governor of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, he indulged in what he honestly believed to be facts and statements in regard to those of my friends who were striving to place me again in the post I then occupied, using no unfair, but only honest statements of the views he held; and he being still a Senator from Massachusetts, and I again her Governor, and this being the first time since then that my voice has been heard in Faneuil Hall, while I lament most deeply the circumstance which has called us together, I rejoice that it gives me an opportunity to rise superior to party feelings, to party bias, and to express my sentiments that we must stand by him who is the representative of Massachusetts, under all circumstances. [Loud cheers.] And while he represents the old Commonwealth in the United States Senate, in the performance of his constitutional duties as he understands them, I will, so help me Heaven, do all in my humble ability to strengthen his arm and encourage his heart. [Loud applause.]”

“But now, when I read of this event in the Senate, of this assault upon Sumner, it seemed to me it was a very bad specimen of a very bad school. [Laughter.] And all of us were affected in the same manner, upon reading the account. What was our first exclamation? Not that it was an inhuman outrage, or a brutal outrage, but that it was cowardly. I say that the cowardliness of this attack stands out even more conspicuous, to my eye, than its brutality or its inhumanity. To approach a man imprisoned, tied hand and foot, as it were, between an arm-chair and a desk, and to strike him over the head without warning or immediate provocation, a stunning, deadly blow with a bludgeon, is, in my opinion, the act of an assassin. [Applause.] And I say, that, compared to such an act, the act of the man who meets me on the high-road, and horsewhips, or at least attempts to horsewhip me [laughter], soars to something like manliness and courage. [Cheers.]”

“For more than twenty years, Mr. President and fellow-citizens, I have been on terms of the closest intimacy with Charles Sumner. For more than one half that period I have been his political opponent. It is precisely because I have been, and now am, his personal friend, and it is precisely because I have been, and now am, his political opponent, that I have come here to-night,—not with the intention of speaking upon this platform, but to listen to the voices of those who are his political as well as personal friends, in relation to the great outrage which has brought a stain upon our country.

“I have heard here, Gentlemen, a great deal of sympathy expressed for Mr. Sumner. As his personal friend, I beg to say that that feeling is entirely uncalled for, if not to some extent misplaced. Have sympathy for the great martyrs of the past, for those who wear the civic crown, if you will,—but I tell you that that gentleman in Washington who now lies upon a bed of pain, whose life it may be is hanging in the balance, needs no sympathy from us. Every drop of blood shed by him in this disgraceful affair has raised up ten thousand armed men. [Applause.] Every gash upon that forehead will be covered with a political crown, let it be resisted as much as it may be resisted, here or elsewhere. [Loud cheers.] This matter is raised far above and beyond all personal considerations. It is a matter of trifling consequence to Mr. Sumner. It makes those who love him love him more,—and no man is more loved, or more to be considered, so far as the affections or friendship are concerned. Yet personal feelings are of little or no consequence in this outrage. It is a blow not merely at Massachusetts, a How not merely at the name and fame of our common country; it is a blow at constitutional liberty all the world over; it is a stab at the cause of Universal Freedom. It is aimed at all men, everywhere, who are struggling for what we now regard as our great birthright, and which we intend to transmit unimpaired to our latest posterity. [Loud cheers.]

“Whatever may be done in this matter, however, one thing is certain, one thing is sure. The blood of this Northern man, who had dared to stand up in the Senate of the United States under circumstances that would have discouraged a man of less ardor, less enthusiasm, and less courage,—that blood now stains the Senate floor; and let me tell you, that not all the water of the Potomac can wash it out. They may cry, with the great tragic queen, ‘Out, damned spot!’ but no water of this world can ever efface it. Forever, forever and aye, that stain will plead in silence for liberty, wherever man is enslaved, for humanity all over the world, for truth and for justice, now and forever. [Continued applause.]”

“I know Mr. Sumner well. In former times I had a long, an intimate, and an affectionate acquaintance with him; and I feel bound to say that he is a scholar of rich and rare acquirements, a gentleman of noble qualities and generous aims, distinguished for the amenities of social life, and a companion most welcome in the society of the most generous, the most refined, the most exalted. Sir, I had nothing to do with sending Mr. Sumner to the Senate of the United States; I had no vote to cast on that occasion; and if I had had, it would not, on public grounds, have been cast for him. I shall have none to cast, when the time for another election comes; but if I had five hundred votes, every one should be given to send him back again. [Great applause.]

“But I cannot, if I would, altogether withdraw my thoughts from this personal outrage upon Mr. Sumner. Charles Sumner!

I cannot allow myself to call up that scene in the Senate House, lest I should feel more than I shall be able to express or be willing to betray. Boston, his native town, has spoken. Next to Boston, there is no place so dear to him as Cambridge. He is a true son of Harvard. The best years of his early life, from fifteen to twenty-three, he spent here: the four years of college,—a fifth year which he wisely, though unusually, added to his course, for the perfecting of his classical and general studies,—and the three years of his studies in the Law School. At the Law School his attainments were not only great, but wonderful; and for purity of character, kindness, and frankness, he was respected and beloved by all. He was the friend, young as he was, the beloved friend, the frequent and honored guest of Story, of Channing, and of Allston. He was the companion of your Longfellow and your Felton. No young man was more honored by Mr. Webster—in I had almost said his better days. He was the friend of every man and of every cause that deserved to have a friend. At the bar he distinguished himself, especially in juridical literature. He was the reporter of Judge Story’s decisions, and editor of the Jurist, where the young student will find the copious results of his enthusiastic labors in his then beloved profession. When he went abroad, he took nothing in his hand that his own merits had not given him. He had not one claim that did not rest on character, learning, and talents. Still under the age of thirty, he became in Europe the honored friend of men whose names have honored the world. Turning his back upon the attractions of dissipation and fashion, he devoted himself to the society of the learned, the wise, the philanthropic, and to all great and good objects. Thomas Carlyle, in a letter to America, says, “We have had popular Sumner here,”—so universally was he liked. In Paris, while the Northeastern Boundary question was agitating England and America, and attracting much of the attention of Europe, Sumner shut himself into the libraries and public archives, and produced a treatise upon the subject, thought then to be almost exhausted, which, published in the great journals of Europe, and brought before Parliaments and Councils, changed the aspect of the question in Europe, and redounded to his great honor at home.

“After his return, under the influence of Dr. Channing, and in sympathy with Dr. Howe and others, he devoted much of his time to the great philanthropic and social problems of the day,—Slavery, Pauperism, Crime, and Prison Discipline,—and gradually the overshadowing social, political, and national importance of the Slave question drew him first before the people and into public life. When his sentiments on the Slave question were to be sustained at the risk of his ease, his interests, his friendships, and his popularity, he put them all to the hazard. When proposed as candidate for the Senate, the highest office Massachusetts can give, while his election hung trembling in the balance week after week, when one or two votes would secure it, and this or that thing said or done it was thought would gain them, nothing would induce Charles Sumner to take one step from his regular course from his house to his office to speak to any man; he would not make one bow the more, nor put his hand to a line, however simple or unobjectionable, to secure the result. I know—I have right to say this—I know that in this course he resisted temptations and advice and persuasions which few men would not have yielded to. He was elected. It was a tribute to character and talent.

“When he went to Washington, to fight almost alone, with only two or three allies, discountenanced by colleagues and cried down by the great majority, to fight the fight for Freedom, he determined not to speak on the subject of Slavery until he had done all in his power to secure the confidence and good-will of his opponents. So far did he carry this, that his friends here feared that he was bending before the idol, as others had bent. He secured his footing as well as it could be secured. All but fanatics for Slavery admitted his claims to personal affection and public respect. On this basis he took his stand for Freedom. You have seen the result. Few men in America have ever had, perhaps no one man now has, so many readers as he. His opponents say that he burns the midnight lamp. He does. And

His opponents, too, burn the midnight lamp; but, as you remember, Sir, the great Athenian said, there is a difference between the objects on which their lamp throws its glare and his.”

“Resolved, That we have heard with feelings of the deepest indignation of the cowardly and brutal assault upon a Senator of Massachusetts, in the Senate Chamber of the United States, for words spoken in debate, in his place, upon the floor of the Senate.

“Resolved, That this dastardly outrage has in itself dishonored no one but the ruffian who committed it,—but that the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States will make themselves accomplices of the criminal, and deliberate partakers of the guilt and infamy of the crime, if they shall fail to visit upon him speedy and condign punishment.

“Resolved, That, if there are those who imagine that the voice of a Senator of Massachusetts can be silenced, or the expression of the deliberate opinions of her people upon public measures and public men can be stifled and suppressed, by the terrors of assassination, we know that in Charles Sumner they have mistaken the man, and we will endeavor to show that they have mistaken the Commonwealth.

“Resolved, That, in this assault upon our distinguished Senator, the right of free debate in Congress, guarantied by the Constitution of the United States, has been dangerously assailed; and all men who are not willing to see it wholly destroyed are called upon, personally, to rebuke the outrage, and all its abettors, defenders, and apologists.

“Resolved, That we thank Mr. Sumner with our whole hearts for his heroic defence of the Kansas settlers, and his solemn arraignment before the country of the perpetrators of the great Crime against that unhappy and conquered province.

“Resolved, That we have a right to look to the House of Representatives to vindicate the honor of the country in the eyes of the civilized world, by expelling from their body a member with whom none but bullies and savages can hereafter fitly associate.”

“The outrage is the more shocking from the singularly pure character of its victim. Mr. Sumner’s position is exceptional in its honor. He had not taken his degrees in the caucus and in hack politics. It is notorious, that, in the long time when his election was pending, he refused to take a single step to secure it. He would not so much as go up to the State House to shake hands with this or that person whose good-will was reckoned important by his friends. He was elected. It was a homage to character and talent. In Congress he did not rush into a party position. He sat long silent and studious. His friends, I remember, were told that they would find Sumner a man of the world, like the rest: ‘’Tis quite impossible to be at Washington and not bend; he will bend, as the rest have done.’ Well, he did not bend. He took his position, and kept it. He meekly bore the cold shoulder from some of his New England colleagues, the hatred of his enemies, the pity of the indifferent, cheered by the love and respect of good men with whom he acted, and has stood for the North, a little in advance of all the North, and therefore without adequate support. He has never faltered in his maintenance of justice and freedom. He has gone beyond the large expectation of his friends in his increasing ability and his manlier tone.

“I have heard that some of his political friends tax him with indolence or negligence in refusing to make electioneering speeches, or otherwise to bear his part in the labor which party organization requires. I say it to his honor. But more to his honor are the faults which his enemies lay to his charge. I think, Sir, if Mr. Sumner had any vices, we should be likely to hear of them. They have fastened their eyes like microscopes, now for five years, on every act, word, manner, and movement, to find a flaw,—and with what result? His opponents accuse him neither of drunkenness, nor debauchery, nor job, nor peculation, nor rapacity, nor personal aims of any kind. No: but with what? Why, beyond this charge, which it is impossible was ever sincerely made, that he broke over the proprieties of debate, I find him accused of publishing his opinion of the Nebraska conspiracy in a letter to the People of the United States, with discourtesy. Then, that he is an Abolitionist: as if every sane human being were not an Abolitionist, or a believer that all men should be free. And the third crime he stands charged with is, that his speeches were written before they were spoken: which of course must be true in Sumner’s case,—as it was true of Webster, of Adams, of Calhoun, of Burke, of Chatham, of Demosthenes, of every first-rate speaker that ever lived. It is the high compliment he pays to the intelligence of the Senate and of the country. When the same reproach was cast upon the first orator of ancient times by some caviller of his day, he said, ‘I should be ashamed to come with one unconsidered word before such an assembly.’

“Mr. Chairman, when I think of these most small faults as the worst which party hatred could allege, I think I may borrow the language which Bishop Burnet applied to Sir Isaac Newton, and say, that Charles Sumner ‘has the whitest soul I ever knew.’

“Now, Sir, we have met to express our warm feelings of indignation—at what? That Charles Sumner has been stricken down by the hand of a brutal ruffian? No, Sir: that is but a small portion of the question which is presented for our consideration at this time. Not by the hand of Brooks of South Carolina, alone, did he fall; but it was through a concerted effort, which has not been denied in the House of Representatives, although the question was evaded by Mr. Brooks, declaring that he had informed no one of the time when it should take place; but he did not deny—and it is well known in Washington, and will be throughout the country, that this attack upon Mr. Sumner—that this slaughter of Mr. Sumner, for such was the purpose—was concerted among Southern men, and that Brooks was but the base instrument by which the purpose was to be carried into effect. Sir, we must hold, not Mr. Brooks responsible alone, but all those who combined with him to do this foul deed,—all those—and you will find there will be hosts in another section of the country—who will applaud the act, and profess to honor the man who was put forward to perpetrate this deed. And, Sir, if we consider it merely as a combination of slaveholders against our Senator, and nothing more, we shall not reach the magnitude of the question open for our consideration. That blow was not meant for Mr. Sumner alone. It was meant for the State which he represented. It was the State of Massachusetts whose honor was outraged by that act. It was her majesty which was stricken down in the person of her Senator. It is her body that lies bleeding, and demands retribution at the hands of her children. Shall retribution not come? Shall there not be a voice from one end of Massachusetts to the other, calling aloud for retribution upon the perpetrator, and the aiders and abettors of that foul act? [Loud cries of ‘Yes,’ and applause.]”

“Whereas the Hon. Charles Sumner, Senator in Congress from this Commonwealth, and an honorary member of this Association, has been most brutally assaulted in his seat in Congress for words uttered in debate: Therefore

“Resolved, That it is with feelings of profound sorrow and shame that we are obliged to recognize in this act a cowardly and base assault upon the rights of free speech, and to regard this indignity, perpetrated upon the person of our honored and beloved Senator, as an insult to the city of Boston and its institutions, the State of Massachusetts, and our common country.

“Resolved, That the members of the Mercantile Library Association of Boston, without distinction of party, most respectfully tender to the Hon. Charles Sumner their kindest feelings of sympathy and esteem, and earnestly hope, that, by the blessing of Divine Providence, he may resume his seat in Congress, and reiterate those principles of humanity which every institution, whether political or literary, should most earnestly espouse.

“Resolved, That the Corresponding Secretary of this Association is hereby requested to furnish the Hon. Charles Sumner with an appropriate copy of these resolves.”

“Look into the chamber where our own fellow-citizen, struck down without warning by the hand of brutal violence, lies prostrate, and think what fearful issues hang on the skill or incompetence of those who have his precious life in charge. One little error, and the ignis sacer, the fiery plague of the wounded, spreads his angry blush over the surface, and fever and delirium are but the preludes of deadlier symptoms. One slight neglect, and the brain, oppressed with the products of disease, grows dreamy, and then drowsy, its fine energies are palsied, and too soon the heart that filled it with generous blood is still forever. It took but a little scratch from a glass, broken at his daughter’s wedding, to snatch from life the great anatomist and surgeon, Spigelius, almost at the very age of him for whose recovery we look, not without anxious solicitude.

“The hostile irruption of two members of Congress into the Senate Chamber of the United States, openly armed with deadly bludgeons, and probably secretly, according to the habits of their breed, with bowie-knives and revolvers, and there prostrating on the floor with their bludgeons a Senator of the United States, sitting peaceably in his seat, unconscious of danger, and from his position incapable of defence, inflicting upon him blows, until he sunk senseless under them, and which, if they do not prove mortal, it was not for want of malignant intent in the cowardly assassins,—and all this for words publicly spoken in the Senate, in the course of debate, allowed by its presiding officer to be spoken, and exceeding not one hair’s breadth any line of truth or duty: this is the fifth, and the climax, of this series of outrages, unparalleled, nefarious, and brutal.”

“The blow struck upon the head of Charles Sumner did not fall upon him alone. It was a blow purposely aimed at the North. It was a blow struck at the very Tree of Liberty. It speaks to us in words not to be mistaken. It says to us that Northern men shall not be heard in the halls of Congress, except at the peril of the bowie-knife, the bludgeon, and revolver. Nor is this any new thing.

“The bludgeon, heretofore only brandished, has at last been brought down; and now is the time for the North to fight. Charles Sumner needs not our sympathy: if he dies, his name will be immortal,—his name will be enrolled with the names of Warren, Sidney, and Russell; if he lives, he is destined to be the light of the nation.”

“With the satisfaction which I feel in addressing you at the present time are mingled the profoundest anxiety and grief. An irrepressible sadness takes possession of my heart at the occurrences of the past week, and the most serious apprehensions force themselves upon me that events are already in train, with an impulse too mighty to be resisted, which will cause our beloved country to weep tears of blood through all her borders for generations to come. The civil war,—for such it is,—with its horrid train of pillage, fire, and slaughter, carried on, without the slightest provocation, against the infant settlements of our brethren on the frontier of the Union,—the worse than civil war which has for months raged unrebuked at the capital of the Union, and has at length, by an act of lawless violence, of which I know no parallel in the history of Constitutional Government, stained the floor of the Senate Chamber with the blood of an unarmed, defenceless man, and he a Senator of Massachusetts,—ah, my friends, these are events which, for the good name, the peace, the safety of the country, for the cause of free institutions throughout the world, it were worth all the gold of California to blot from the record of the past week. They sicken the heart of the good citizen, of the patriot, of the Christian; they awaken a gloomy doubt whether the sacrifices and the sufferings endured by our fathers, that they might found a purer, higher, and freer civilization on this Western Continent than the world had yet seen, have not been endured in vain.”

“The newspapers, which have for so long kept the millions of the North as watchers about your bed, now gladden all our hearts with the news that you are soon to stand again upon that floor which promises to become as sacred in the annals of Freedom as is the arena of the Coliseum in the story of our faith.…

“Nothing, I am sure, could so have touched and roused every class of Northern society, nothing could so have put the terrible realities of the issue we must confront before the most unwilling and the most indifferent minds, as the atrocious deed which, imbecile as it was atrocious, makes the firmest enemy of Slavery the perpetual representative alike of Northern honor and of Northern manhood, and enlists around you, as the perpetual Senator of Massachusetts, every instinct, passion, and necessity of Northern civilization.

“I now write a line or two for the purpose of renewing to you the sentiments I cherish in your behalf, and my admiration of your noble patriotism and commanding eloquence. I had read carefully your classical speeches, and rejoiced that there was at least one in the Senate who to rich culture added the graces of finished oratory and the abiding principles of constitutional freedom. Yes, my dear Sir, I have been for several months, amidst many cares, absorbed on the consequences which I inferred must follow the brutal assault which you received. I almost at once exclaimed, That blow will effect a revolution in our political relationship; yet I pray God that the Union may continue intact under its momentous influences. You have, by your parliamentary demonstrations, evinced the heroism of the patriots of the earlier days of our Republic; you have stamped your Senatorial career with the impress of the loftiest intrepidity and moral courage. You are destined to occupy an ample page in your country’s history. These expressions, dear Sir, flow from a full heart and a deep conviction.”

“Nothing but the direct intervention of Federal influence can force through Congress the Lecompton Constitution; and if the Government, with the sanction of the people, can force upon Kansas a Constitution conceived in fraud and violence, it will be the weightiest blow ever given against free governments.

“Violence and fraud, if successful in this instance, will be repeated whenever occasion demands it. It will not be limited to Territories or States. No shrine will be held sacred. The Senate Chamber of the United States has been already invaded, and this State was for a time bereft of a part of its representative power by an act of fearful wrong, committed upon the most cherished and brilliant of her sons, while in the performance of constitutional duty.”

“The assault upon Mr. Sumner stands without parallel in the annals of civilized communities. While sitting at his desk in the Senate Chamber, quietly engaged in writing, a member of the other legislative body, the House of Representatives, deliberately walks up to him, and, taking advantage of his utterly helpless position, where he could neither escape nor defend himself, begins to beat him violently upon his bare head with a heavy cane, until he falls down stunned and insensible, covered with his own blood, the cowardly ruffian not desisting even then, when the form of his antagonist lay prostrate and senseless before him. While this is taking place, a number of his brother Senators stand round and make no attempt to stay the arm of the assailant; some of them, indeed, mounted guard expressly to prevent interference. Such conduct is utterly inexplicable to us in this country.

…

“If anything could aggravate the inherent brutality of this act, it is the character of the man upon whom it was committed. For Mr. Sumner is a gentleman in whom there meets a combination of qualities adapted in a rare degree to inspire the affectionate attachment of friends, and to command courtesy and respect from all generous and honorable opponents: a man of a chivalrous and heroic spirit, of a refined and sensitive nature, of a powerful and cultivated intellect disciplined by hard study and adorned with profound and various learning, who has led a life of irreproachable purity and active benevolence,—the favorite pupil of Story, the intimate friend and disciple of Channing, the chosen associate of the finest living minds of America, Quincy, Sparks, Longfellow, Goodrich, Dana, Everett, Bryant, Emerson.

…

“And when the greatest of American orators and statesmen, Daniel Webster, was stricken down by the hand of death, Mr. Sumner was the man whom the State of Massachusetts chose from among her sons, as most worthy to be his successor. And most nobly has he vindicated the wisdom of their choice. Taking small interest in the ordinary conflicts of parties, he has stood forth, from the moment that he entered the Senate, as the courageous and resolute champion of the slave. His speeches are elaborate and masterly orations, with perhaps almost too much of classical stateliness and refinement for the tribune. Over the hard and dry abstraction of politics he throws the glancing lights of his fertile and polished fancy, and relieves the tedium of debate by the rich stores of an elegant and varied erudition. The speech that brought upon him the recent attack was perhaps the greatest of all his efforts. It is in every respect a magnificent production. With a lofty and relentless logic he tears away the covering veil of sophistry with which the Southern members had sought to conceal the naked iniquity of the transactions in Kansas. There are, no doubt, passages of terrible severity, but not, we think, exceeding the license of parliamentary debate among ourselves. And the most conclusive testimony to the power of the orator is afforded by the desperate extremities to which it reduced his discomfited foes.

“We have no words of commiseration to offer to Mr. Sumner. God grant only that a life so valuable may be spared, and he will occupy in the estimation of all men, at home and abroad, whose judgment he would value, a prouder position than he ever occupied before. He stood in the vanguard of Freedom, and the marks of the ruffianly outrage inflicted upon him, which he will probably bear to the grave, he will wear as more honorable scars than ever warrior brought from a battle-field.”

“If I give credence to the testimony of Dr. Boyle, I see no reason why he should not be present. For anything that appears in that testimony, if he had been an officer of the Army, and had not appeared the next day on the battle-field, he would have deserved to be cashiered.”[152]

“After all that has been said and done, on a post bellum examination, what is it? A fight in the Senate Chamber, resulting in two flesh wounds, which ought not to have detained him from the Senate. Being rather a handsome man, perhaps he would not like to expose himself by making his appearance for some time; but if he had been in the Army, there was no reason why he should not go to the field the next day; and he would deserve to be cashiered, if he did not go.”[153]

“It was my good fortune to be a frequent caller upon Mr. Sumner during his residence here. I always found him studiously devoted to the duties of his office. He was one of the most active, hard-working men in Congress. Down to the 22d day of May, 1856, when he was so brutally assailed by the agent of the Slave Oligarchy, he had never been out of his seat a single day. It was in this spirit of fidelity that he always discharged his duties. If I may be pardoned in the exhibition of a little selfishness, I will acknowledge that it was in part the discovery of the fact that Mr. Sumner kept a better run of all the public business before Congress than most other members, that induced me, as a member of the press, to make more frequent calls upon him than perhaps I should otherwise have done. He was particularly well posted on all questions of foreign affairs, from the reception of Kossuth down to the important part that he took in the Sound Dues of Denmark; he was always enlightened on all propositions of general legislation, touching the judiciary, commerce, patents, the tariff, and everything concerning the great interests of Massachusetts.

“At the time he was disabled, the Journal of the Senate will show a large number of special propositions introduced by him, among which was the proposition he has brought forward annually for the revision and consolidation of the Statutes of the United States, which must yet prevail; also for cheap ocean postage, another annual proposition; also for post-office orders, as a mode of transfer of money in small sums for the accommodation of the poor,—an idea recently adopted by the House Committee on Post-Offices and Post-Roads; several propositions of amendment of Patent Law, particularly one to take off the heavy fees on foreign patents, in order to pave the way for a similar reduction abroad; a bill altering the Commercial Law, so as to relieve ship-owners of liability in the case of fire under certain circumstances; a bill amending the Law of Copyright; a bill providing for the regulation of passengers coming into the United States; also a whole group of bills for the improvement of the rivers and harbors of Massachusetts, for the building of a Court-House and Post-Office at Boston, &c., &c.

“None, except those who have had experience in Washington, and have had an inside view of the practical life of a Congressman, can form a correct idea of the vast amount of labor performed by them which does not appear before the public. Mr. Sumner’s correspondence was one of the largest in the Senate,—not confined to Massachusetts, but coming from every part of the country. He neglected nothing.”

“He has all the impatience of ordinary men in illness, or in the prospect of restraint, and assures everybody that he is doing very well, feels very well, is quite strong, and will surely be able to go to Washington in two weeks. Mr. Burlingame assures me, with tears in his eyes, that this is what he always said. Ever since his injury he has been going to be quite well in two weeks; but when he rises from his chair, he takes hold of the table. His gait, at a first glance, appears that of a man of ninety years of age; but, watching him awhile, I felt that it was the very kind of step one takes when creeping through a darkened chamber under the influence of a paroxysm of nervous headache; but he says, with a kind of lofty, incredulous scorn, that his head does not ache! Sometimes he feels a pressure on the top of his head, and it appears to hurt him when he walks; but he will be ready to go to Washington in two weeks.

…

“Mr. Burlingame came on Friday evening, about six o’clock, in company with a gentleman and lady from Philadelphia. He had not before seen Mr. Sumner since the Brooks challenge, and we all sat together until after eleven o’clock,—there was so much to be told, and said, and explained. Without any personal resemblance, these two appeared together like father and son; but I could give no idea of their interview, even so much of it as the sacredness of private conversation would permit to be made public, in less than a column, and Mr. Sumner crowds everything from my thoughts just now. When his friends left, he had no disposition to retire, and when he did, slept but one hour.

…

“Those mistaken friends of his who would fain see Brooks killed or maimed would greatly distress him, if any such killing or maiming were done by their agency. He shudders at the thought that Burlingame might have shot him, and appears to feel about as much resentment against him as I should feel toward a tile which had fallen upon my head. I could not discern the slightest symptom of chagrin or mortification,—no sense of the dishonor which so many attach to the blow unrevenged.

“I asked him if he would have defended himself, if it had been possible?

“‘Most certainly,’ was the prompt reply, ‘to the best of my ability, and the last extremity.’

“To Dr. Jackson’s suggestion, that the same principle which permitted him to defend himself, when attacked, should induce him to punish the offence, he promptly explained the difference between self-defence and revenge. He appears to have no idea, however remote, of personal enmity in the matter,—but if he was only able to deliver one more speech! His brain is throbbing with pent thunderbolts,—and if he could only get into the citadel of his foes, and hurl them hissing into their faces! Kansas, Kansas and her wrongs, if he could but fight her battles! He does not appear as if he knew how to be afraid, or could learn, if he tried for a lifetime. There is a lion look about him, and a courage which could not stoop to assault so frail a thing as a human body.”

“I ventured after a time to speak to him of the outrage from whose effects came this sad weakness, and to express a wonder which I have always felt that serious commotions did not follow it. ‘Oh, no,’ he said. ‘It was little, in comparison with daily occurrences. The poorest slave is in danger of worse outrages every moment of his life.’”

“Much interest is felt, I find, among our friends in Massachusetts and elsewhere, to know the nature of Mr. Sumner’s feelings toward the person who inflicted upon him so great a calamity, taking from him nearly two years of active life, and putting in jeopardy both his life and reason. Sharing this feeling, I have endeavored to learn the Senator’s sentiments on the subject. Yet I have never heard him utter one word from which I could even found a conjecture of them, though the matter has been referred to by myself, and by others in my hearing, in the course of conversation. Moreover, I have heard his private secretary, who was his nurse and watcher during the long, sultry days and nights of his illness in Washington, remark that he had never heard the Senator speak of the assault or the assailant, or in any way express any feeling on the subject. But I presume, however, that the feelings of Mr. Sumner are justly excited against the cruel Slave Power, which originally instigated and has since sanctioned the assault.”

“The rumor is, on all sides, that you purpose returning as soon as possible to your seat. Allow me, as a most near friend, careful alike of you and the cause, to urge you not to attempt taking your seat again this session. No such step is necessary. Every one here recognizes most fully and heartily your fearless devotion. Every one is more than ready, anxious, to wait till confirmed health and strength make it, not an effort, but a pleasure, for you to return to your place. The only fear is lest you be tempted to hurry back before your strength is fully restored. Nothing you can do will shut the mouths of journals whose trade is lying and abuse. It is fair to say, and a hopeful sign of the times also, that these cavils fall to the ground utterly ineffectual and harmless. At least their only result is indignation. Let this session go by. Be sure Massachusetts will give you six more years to work in. You have done more than your share in this session’s fight,—enough to satisfy the most impatient spirit. Come home and rest. Come home to recruit for years and a crisis when we shall need you even more than now,—when your voice will be worth more, far more, than even now. The most ardent wish of all who love you is that you consider yourself: in so doing now you best serve the cause.”

“We miss you here very much, and, as I pass your recent lodgings, I often regret that I cannot run up and bore you with a few minutes’ talk; but I think, and such is the general feeling of all your friends, that you ought not to think of resuming your seat this session. The weather and the excitement will both be against you, if you do.

“Besides, next December you can resume that expressively vacant seat with the proud consciousness that the wand of the Oligarchy is broken,—or, if a different fortune is reserved for us, which I pray God to avert, to head the forlorn hope which is then to battle for the Right against the Furies which the triumph of the Wrong will let loose on us all. But you know best, and I will not presume to advise.

“I was glad to hear the report of your Philadelphia physician, which relieved the forebodings which I fear were preying on you; and it confirms what an eminent physician wrote me, that the action of the absorbent vessels would relieve you slowly, if you would abstain from all excitement and give them the opportunity.”

“Dr. Wister says, ‘For God’s sake don’t let Mr. Sumner think of leaving the mountains till the 1st or 15th of September.’ I find that yesterday, when we were jogging down the gorge, it was oppressively hot here, and only last night came there a slight change. Dr. Wister is most positive and earnest in his opinion that you should remain where you are. You will lose everything, if you quit that invigorating mountain air, and run the hazard of being an invalid for months to come. ‘It would be the extreme of folly,’ he says, ‘to turn your back upon your present place.’”

“I entreat you, my dear friend, not to think or act on public affairs until your health is firmly restored. You have time enough before you to perfect your duty to your country, which you have already so gloriously commenced. History will avenge you on your adversary, which not all the votes of all the slave-holders between the tropics can save from an infamy as lasting as the history of our country.

“God bless you, and preserve you, and soon restore you to health, to your friends, and your country!”

“I have talked with men of all parties, (on your case there is but one party worth naming,) and without a dissentient voice they deplore your anxiety to return this session to Washington. No man but urges me to write and make you feel that you have struck the blow already, and that now our interests and that of the cause, as well as your own, and our hearts, too, demand of you to ‘stand and wait.’ I know you can make speeches worth dying for; but let me tell you, just now to the nation’s heart your empty chair can make a more fervent appeal than even you. The canvass goes well, the ‘idea’ grows. We thank God that he has given us such texts: now make our gratitude unalloyed by building up your strength in silence and quiet for that fiercer struggle yet which lies before us all.

“I conjure you, as you love Freedom, save yourself: we need you more in the future than now. You are not the best judge.”

“I wish that I could convince you that it is neither necessary for the public nor would it be useful in any way to yourself to speak in this canvass, even if you should find yourself able. It belongs to others to do that work. You have suffered enough, even if you had done nothing; and yet what you have suffered is only a consequence of having done more than any other.

…

“I believe with you that we shall succeed in this election, and I earnestly hope for it. It is time that Freedom should have a decided triumph in order to commend itself to a vacillating people.”

“We learn from the newspapers that you have submitted yourself to a most trying operation, and that the physicians give good hope of most beneficial results. Most earnestly do I hope, in common with many thousand friends of human liberty and progress, that their best anticipations may be fully realized. I am anxious to hear your voice once more in the Senate, mirum spargens sonum. I want to see the Oligarchs and Serviles once more cowering under your rebukes of despotism and servility.

“It is amazing to see to what depths of baseness some of the partisan presses in the interest of the Oligarchy will descend. Not content with half vindications of the assassination attempted upon you, several have had the infinite meanness to represent you as playing a part all the while you have been suffering from the effects of the assault. When will men learn decency?

“Oh, if you shall be only able to take your seat again next winter in your full vigor! There is no one who hates the wrong of Slavery in its principle as you do: I should except Durkee.”

“We are all anxious about you. Get well, if possible, and do not trouble yourself about your duties as a Senator. Do not attempt to take your seat, unless your health will allow you to do it. The session will be a short one, and we can get on without you. Take time, if you require it, and let the next session go. Our friends will stand by you, if you do not feel able to take your seat next session. I feel confident that our friends desire above all things that you shall be able to keep your seat, and they will be pleased to have you adopt the course most conducive to the recovery of your health. If your health will be improved by continuing in Europe for months longer, pray take the time. This is my advice to you. I hope, however, you will be able to return to your home and your seat this winter, with health and vigor, able to engage once more in the battles for the great cause for which you have suffered so much and so long.”

“‘Philadelphia, Oct. 14, 1856.

“‘Dr. M. S. Perry:—

“‘Dear Sir,—It gives me much pleasure to reply to your note of inquiry concerning the health of Mr. Sumner.