III
There was a deep undercurrent of religious reverence in Senator Kern which did not flout itself upon the surface. Reference has been made to his conversion at a revival meeting during his boyhood when for a time he became ardent in his devotion to religious duties, and while this phase passed, he retained through life a profound reverence for sacred things. During the greater portion of his life, while retaining his membership with the Presbyterian church, he was not much given to church attendance. This was not due to any compromise with his faith. He was not interested in dogma or creed. He cared little for the outer manifestations of the spirit of worship. He seldom quoted from the Bible in his speeches and had a horror of the politician who attempts to capitalize his religion. The thought of the life beyond was to him too solemn for conversational purposes. He never or seldom discussed it. But he never permitted himself to doubt it. His veneration for the cloth asserted itself less in tributes to the dignity of the clergy than in his occasional excoriations of members of the clergy who lowered their dignity and compromised their religion by lending themselves to the support of inhumanity. For the minister from Lawrence, Massachusetts, who appeared for the mill owners at the strike hearings in Washington to gravely assure the committee that there was a good moral effect in throwing children of twelve and thirteen into factories to labor for a pittance while paying the mill owners for the cold water that they drank rather than permit them to play “in the streets” in the sunshine he had no words with which to express his contempt. The only letter protesting against the passage of the child labor law that he cared to notice was from a minister of the cotton mill section—and it blazed with indignant protest against—not the protest, but the source of it.
He had the average man’s appreciation of the occasional value of an explicative, but he never lightly played with the name of his Creator. And he had a quiet contempt for the man who did.
No man ever put more of the genuine spirit of Christianity into his political philosophy. He loved his fellow men. And throughout his life he particularly concerned himself with the alleviation of suffering whenever possible, and the amelioration of the condition of the poor. Because of that quality he was sometimes looked upon as not quite “respectable” by some more prone to pose in prayer in the market places. For these, too, he had a profound contempt.
It was in his attitude toward his fellow men that he disclosed the profundity of his religious convictions. He had faith—it followed him from the cradle to the grave.
I have before me a letter by Kern to his sister, Sarah, on the death of her little boy, which so perfectly mirrors the man and his religious views:
“Kokomo, January 4, 1883.
“Dear Sister—Father’s letter, containing the sad news of the death of your little Frank was received to-day, and I hasten to write you. Our hearts are full of loving sympathy for you in this terrible affliction and we would like to be able to be with you to mingle our tears with yours, and try to say something to break the force of the overpowering sorrow which has come so heavily upon you. The brave, sturdy little fellow. We imagined him in perfect health, rollicking about your fireside enjoying the holiday season—the pride and joy of all of you. And to hear of his death. It startled and shocked us and saddened our household almost as much as though it had been our child, for we had all become so attached to him during our long stay with you. While death is terrible, and while great heart-breaking grief always follows, yet there are other matters to be considered in the case of the death of children especially which ought to go a long way in the direction of comforting the heart.
“He is safe. The possibilities of evil, which go along with all boys and which increase as they grow older, are no more. There is now no danger for little Frank. His footsteps need not now be guarded—there need be no anxiety in the mother’s heart for the future of her boy. His future is not only secure, but it is a future resplendent with glory. Had he lived a long, useful life, he could never have attained that happiness which is now and always will be his.
“I was thinking to-day of the comfort there is in afflictions like this in the religion of the Bible. Without it what gloom and utter hopelessness. With it the future is full of good cheer and joyous anticipations. Accepting it as true—and let no doubt ever obtrude itself—then must we not believe that our good, pure angel mother who has been waiting over there so long welcomed little Frank with exceeding great joy as the representative of her own children whom she left so long ago and toward whom her heart went in such tender solicitude?
“My dear sister, your little boy is safe. He was the first of our family to be welcomed by her whose memory we treasure so fondly. From this on there will be more frequent additions to the family in the summerland of happiness—one by one we will be summoned there, until, ere long, the family circle will be completed, and every sorrow and pang of grief will be forgotten in the perfect happiness of heaven. Let not this picture be marred. We must all see to it that it is not. We must. I feel that we will all gather together over there, parents, children, grandchildren, and together enjoy forever the glories of the land of love.
“Let not your heart be troubled. There can be no more sorrow for the little boy. No ill can ere betide him now. Trust in God who doeth all things well. Let His will be done. God bless and comfort you.
“Your loving brother,
“John.”