SUMNER, BURLINGAME AND CASSIUS M. CLAY.
The Republican party was organized in Pittsburg, and when it became
national through the Philadelphia convention in the summer of '56, and
nominated Fremont, it seemed that it might injure rather than aid the
party to have a woman take a prominent place in it. The
nurseling--political abolition--was out of its cradle, had grown to
man's estate, and with bearded lip had gone forth to battle, a man among
men. There were honors and emoluments to be won in the cause of the
slave, and no doubt of its final triumph.
The _Visiter_ had been sold to Mr. Riddle and united with his weekly,
thus extending its circulation, and cutting off the ruinous expense of
its publication. The _Journal_ was thoroughly Republican, and would be
ably conducted. No further need of a page devoted to freedom, when every
page was consecrated to the overthrow of slavery.
Before taking action, it was best to consult an old subscriber, Charles
Sumner, then on the Allegheny Mountains, recovering from the Brook's
assault. I took baby and went to see him.
He was domiciled in the family of Dr. Jackson, Pennsylvania State
Geologist, and seemed to be one of it. In the sitting-room were his desk
and lounge, where he wrote or lay and talked, principally with Dr.
Furness, of Philadelphia, who was with him, devoting an ever-growing
store of information to the amusement of his friend. Dr. Jackson was
full of instruction, and no man more ready than Sumner to learn. He held
that all knowledge was useful in adding to one's resources--inquired
minutely about the shoeing of the horse he rode; and over a watermelon
at dessert the doctor gave a lecture on amputation, which became a large
capital to one at least of his hearers, and was of intense interest to
Sumner.
The children loved him, loved to be near him, and never seemed to be in
his way. Once when a toddling wee thing crept to his side while he was
absorbed in writing, took hold of his clothes, drew herself to his feet
and laid her head against his knee, he placed a weight to hold his
paper, laid his hand on her head and went on with his work. When some
one would have removed her, he looked up and said:
"Oh, let the little one alone!"
He spoke with profound admiration of Mrs. Purviance, wife of the member
of Congress from Butler, Pa. Said he was sorry never to have met her.
Her influence in Washington society had been so ennobling that the
friends of freedom owed her a lasting debt of gratitude. She boarded
with her husband at the National where her wealth, independence and
sparkling social qualities made her a recognized leader, while all her
influence was cast upon the right side. He thought the success of the
North in the famous struggle which elected Banks Speaker of the House,
was largely due to Mrs. Purviance.
He was oppressed with anxiety about Burlingame, who had gone to Canada
to fight a duel, and there was great rejoicing, when he suddenly
appeared one evening after the sun had hidden behind the pine trees.
He and Sumner met and greeted each other with the abandon of boys. No
duel had been fought, since Brooks, the challenger, had refused to pass
through Pennsylvania to Clifton, the place of meeting, for fear of mob
violence. Even the offer of a safe conduct of troops by the governor,
failed to reassure him, and Burlingame had hurried on to set his
friend's mind at rest. After the general rejoicing, the two sat facing
each other, when Sumner leaned forward, placed a hand on each of
Burlingame's shoulders, and said:
"Tell me, Anson, you did not mean to shoot that man, did you?"
Burlingame's head dropped an instant, then raising it, he said, slowly:
"I intended to take the best aim I could." Here he drew back his right
arm, and took the position of holding a gun, "at the broadest part of
him, his breast; wait for the word, and then--fire!"
Sumner dropped back in his chair, let his hands fall on his knees and
exclaimed, sorrowfully:
"Oh, Anson! I did not believe it."
Burlingame's eyes filled with tears, and he said:
"Charles, I saw you lying bleeding and insensible on the Senate floor,
when I did not expect ever again to hear you speak; and I intended then
to kill him. I tell you, Charles, we have got to meet those fellows with
guns, some day, and the sooner we begin, the better." On being
consulted, both these champions of the right said the _Visiter_ must not
desert the cause. Sumner added solemnly:
"The slave never had more need of it; never had more need of you."
So that editor went on with her work, feeling such an opinion as almost
a divine call.
In talking with Mr. Sumner during that visit, I learned that the same
doctor attended both President Harrison and President Taylor in their
last illness, and used his professional authority to prevent their
friends seeing them until the fatal termination of their illness was
certain. Also, that it was that same doctor who was within call when
Brooks made his assault on Sumner, took charge of the case, and made an
official statement that the injury was very slight, gave it a
superficial dressing, and sought to exclude every one from the room of
his patient. Said Sumner:
"I shuddered when I recovered consciousness, and found this man beside
me."
He dismissed him promptly, and did not hesitate to say that he believed
he would not have recovered under his treatment. When the South seceded,
this useful man left Washington and joined the Confederacy.
The campaign of 1856 was very spirited. A large mass meeting was held in
Pittsburg, and Cassius M. Clay was the orator of the occasion. He was at
the heighth of a great national popularity, and seemed as if any honor
might be open to him. He dined that evening with Robert Palmer, of
Allegheny, and a small party of friends. The house was brilliantly
lighted, and at the table, while Clay was talking, and every one in gala
day spirits, the light suddenly went out, and what a strange sensation
fell on one guest--a feeling of coming evil.
There was no re-lighting. The gas had failed, prophetic of the going out
of that brilliant career, and its slow ending in the glimmer of a single
candle.