There also was Oscar James Dunn, late Lieutenant-Governor of
Louisiana. It was my privilege to open the door of the Senate Chamber
and introduce him upon this floor. Then, in reply to my inquiry, he
recounted the hardships to which he had been exposed in the long
journey from Louisiana,--especially how he was denied the ordinary
accommodations for comfort and repose supplied to those of another
skin. This denial is memorable, not only from the rank, but the
character of the victim. Of blameless life, he was an example of
integrity. He was poor, but could not be bought or bribed. Duty with
him was more than riches. A fortune was offered for his signature; but
he spurned the temptation.
And yet this model character, high in the confidence of his
fellow-citizens, and in the full enjoyment of political power, was
doomed to suffer the blasting influence which still finds support
in this Chamber. He is dead at last, and buried with official pomp.
The people, counted by tens of thousands, thronged the streets while
his obsequies proceeded. An odious discrimination was for the time
suspended. In life rejected by the conductor of a railway because of
his skin, he was borne to his last resting-place with all the honors
an afflicted community could bestow. Only in his coffin was the ban of
color lifted, and the dead statesman admitted to that equality which is
the right of all.