The Last Leaf | Page 9

were wanted for a speedy finishing of
the war, which we fondly believed was, in spite of all, nearing its end.
Our errand was to ask that in a regiment about to be raised in two
western counties the men might have the privilege of electing the
officers, a pernicious practice which had been in vogue, and always
done much harm. But in those days our eyes were not open.
Entering the Governor's room in the State House with my farmer
selectmen, I found it densely thronged. Among the civilians were many
uniforms, and men of note in the field and out stood there in waiting.
Charles Sumner presently entered the room, dominating the company
by his commanding presence, that day apparently in full vigour, alert,
forceful, with a step before which the crowd gave way, his
masterfulness fully recognised and acknowledged. He took his seat
with the air of a prince of the blood at the table, close at hand to the
Chief Magistrate.
Naturally abashed, but feeling I was in for a task which must be pushed
through, I made my way to the other elbow of the Governor, who,
looking up from his documents, recognised me politely and asked what
I wanted. I stated our case, that a deputation from Franklin and
Hampshire counties desired the privilege for the men of the new
regiment about to be raised to elect their own officers, and not be
commanded by men whom they did not know.
"Where are your selectmen?" said Governor Andrew, rising and
pushing back his chair with an energy which I thought ominous. My

companions had taken up a modest position in a far corner. When I
pointed them out, the Governor made no pause, but proceeded to pour
upon them and me a torrent of impassioned words. He said that we
were making trouble, that the country was in peril, and that while he
was trying to send every available man to the front in condition to do
effective work he was embarrassed at home by petty interference with
his efforts. "I have at hand soldiers who have proved themselves brave
in action, have been baptised in blood and fire. They are fit through
character and experience to be leaders, and yet I cannot give them
commissions because I am blocked by this small and unworthy spirit of
hindrance."
For some minutes the warm outburst went on. The white, beardless
face flushed up under the curls, and his hands waved in rapid gesture.
"A capital speech, your Excellency," cried out Sumner, "a most capital
speech!" and he led the way in a peal of applause in which the crowd in
the chamber universally joined, and which must have rung across
Beacon Street to the Common far away. My feeble finger had touched
the button which brought this unexpected downpour, and for the
moment I was unpleasantly in the limelight.
"Now introduce me to your selectmen," said Governor Andrew,
stepping to my side. I led the way to the corner to which the delegation
had retreated, and presented my friends in turn. His manner changed.
He was polite and friendly, and when, after a hand-shaking, he went
back to his table, we felt we had not understood the situation and that
our petition should have been withheld. For my part, I enlisted at once
as a private and went into a strenuous campaign.
Sumner was intrepid, high-purposed, and accomplished, but what is the
world saying now of his judgment? His recent friendly but
discriminating biographer, Prof. George H. Haynes, declares that even
in matters of taste he was at fault. The paintings he thought
masterpieces, his gift to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, are for the
most part consigned to the lumber-room. In sculpture his judgment was
not better. As to literary art, his writing was ponderous and
over-weighted with far-fetched allusion. The world felt horror at the

attack of Brooks, but the whole literature of invective contains nothing
more offensive than the language of Sumner which provoked it and
which he lavished right and left upon opponents who were sometimes
honourable. It was in the worst of taste.
In great affairs his service was certainly large. Perhaps he was at his
highest in the settlement of the Trent affair, but his course in general in
guiding our foreign relations was able and useful. He put his hand to
much reconstruction of ideas and institutions. Often he made, but too
often he marred. He suffered sadly from the lack of a sense of humour.
"What does Lincoln mean?" he would blankly exclaim, impervious
alike to the drollery and to the keen prod concealed within it. In his
fancied superiority he sought to patronise and dominate the rude
Illinoisian. The case is pathetic. The width and the depth