CHAPTER VII.

Delivers a Speech at the Free Soil State Convention-remarks on this effort-forcible extracts-Mr. Sumner ever true to the cause of Freedom.

ON the 3d of October, 1850, Mr. Sumner deliv ered a most eloquent and impassioned speech at the Free Soil State Convention in Boston, on Our present Anti-Slavery Duties. This speech was delivered with overwhelming force, and was responded to by a whirlwind of enthusiasm, which has rarely been exceeded in the history of oratory. One writer states that it was received with "thunders of applause ;" another adds, "It is the most graphic and eloquent address he has uttered.” Those who were present on that occasion can never forget the music and melody of tone, the vehemence of manner, the gracefulness of action, and the majesty of countenance with which the speaker swayed and fascinated his audience. Never, perhaps, did Mr. Sumner rise to a higher pitch of eloquence than when he uttered some of the thrilling sentiments in which this speech abounds. He seemed to display all the grandeur

of oratory, while (to borrow the language of one, when describing a great oratorical effort of Daniel Webster) "eye, brow, each feature, every line of the face seemed touched, as with celestial fire. All gazed as at something more than human.” All, we may add, were enchained by the irresistible might of his eloquence; for all felt that the speaker was sincere in his remarks-that his words came from the heart. It was a noble triumph of genuine oratory, one of the grandest that has ever swayed the feelings of a popular audience.

His indignant strictures on the Fugitive Slave Bill, which had but recently been passed, and his scathing remarks on Millard Fillmore who signed this iniquitous bill, possess a power which thrill the very soul. Let the following passage from this speech be carefully perused by every lover of freedom at the North. Candid reader, we ask you to consider these words:

"The soul sickens in the contemplation of this outrage. In the dreary annals of the past, there are many acts of shame-there are ordinances of monarchs, and laws, which have become a byword and a hissing to the nations. consider the country and the age, What act of shame, what ordinance of monarch, what law can compare in atrocity with this enact

But, when we I ask fearlessly,

ment of an American Congress? I do not forget Appius Claudius, the tyrant Decemvir of ancient Rome, condemning Virginia as a slave; nor Louis XIV., of France, letting slip the dogs of religious persecution by the revocation of the edict of Nantes; nor Charles I., of England, arousing the patriot-rage of Hampden by the extortion of ship-money; nor the British Parliament, provoking, in our country, spirits kindred to Hampden, by the tyranny of the Stamp Act and the Tea Tax. I would not exaggerate; I wish to keep within bounds; but I think no person can doubt that the condemnation now affixed to all these transactions, and to their authors, must be the lot hereafter of the Fugitive Slave Bill, and of every one, according to the measure of his influence, who gave it his support. Into the immortal catalogue of national crimes this has now passed, drawing after it, by an inexorable necessity, its authors also, and chiefly him, who, as President of the United States, set his name to the Bill, and breathed into it that final breath without which it would have no life. Other Presidents may be forgotten; but the name signed to the Fugitive Slave Bill can never be forgotten. There are depths of infamy, as there are heights of fame. I regret to say what I must; but truth compels me. Better for him had he never been born! Better far for his mem

ory, and for the good name of his children, had he never been President!

"Surely the love of Freedom cannot have so far cooled among us, the descendants of those opposing the Stamp Act, that we are insensible to the Fugitive Slave Bill. The unconquerable rage of the people in those other days, compelled the Stamp-distributors and inspectors to renounce their offices, and held up to detestation all who dared to speak in favor of the Stamps. And shall we be more tolerant of those who volunteer in favor of this Bill?—more tolerant of the slave-hunter, who, under its safeguard, pursues his prey upon our soil ? The Stamp Act could not be executed here! Can the Fugitive Slave Bill?

“And here, sir, let me say, that it becomes me to speak with peculiar caution. It happens to me to sustain an important relation to this Bill. Early in professional life I was designated by the late Mr. Justice Story one of the Commissioners of the Courts of the United States, and though I have not very often exercised the functions of this post, yet my name is still upon the list. As such I am one of those before whom, under the recent Act of Congress, the panting fugitive may be brought for the decision of the question whether he is a freeman or slave. But while it becomes me to speak with caution, I shall not hesitate to speak with

plainness. I cannot forget that I am an, although I am a Commissioner.

"Did the same spirit which inspired our fathers, inspire the community now, the marshals, and every magistrate who regarded this law as having any constitutional obligation, would resign rather than presume to execute it. This, however, is too much to expect from all at present. But I will not judge them. To their own consciences I leave them. Surely no person of humane feelings, and with any true sense of justice-living in a land 'where bells have tolled to church'-whatever may be the apology of public station, could fail to recoil from such service. For myself, let me say that I can imagine no office, no salary, no consideration, which I would not gladly forego, rather than become in any way an agent in enslaving my brother man. Where for me would be comfort and solace, after such a work? In dreams and in waking hours, in solitude and in the street, in the meditations of the closet, and in the affairs of men, wherever I turned, there my victim would stare me in the face; from the distant rice-fields and cotton-plantations of the South, his cries beneath the vindictive lash, his moans, at the thought of liberty once his, now, alas! ravished from him, would pursue me, telling the tale of his fearful doom, and sounding in my ears, 'Thou art the man!'