Senator Sumner, who had left the Presidential contest and gone to Europe returned to his Senatorial duties and "accepted the situation." Early in the session he introduced a bill prohibiting the future publication of names of Union victories in the Army Register or their inscription on the regimental colors of the army. This step toward an oblivion of past difficulties was highly acceptable to General Grant, who conveyed to Mr. Sumner his appreciation of the olive branch thus extended. Others were not disposed to regard his movement with a friendly eye, and the Legislature of Massachusetts passed a resolution censuring him.
Mr. Sumner survived a few months only, when, after a very brief illness, he died at his house in Washington. When he was gone, men of all political parties joined heartily in eulogizing the deceased statesman. A mourning nation paid homage to his pure heart, to his sense of duty and right, to his courageous willingness to bear obloquy, to his unwearied industry—in short, to that rare union of qualities which impart such grandeur to his memory. Even the jealousies and schemes of the living were restrained, as the second-rate heroes of ancient days postponed their contest for the armor of Achilles until last honors had been paid to the memory of the illustrious departed. In Doric Hall in the State House at Boston his remains finally lay in state amid a lavish display of floral tokens, which were sent from all classes and localities, Massachusetts thus emphatically indorsing her son, whom she had so lately censured.
Senator Sumner left behind him a few printed copies of a speech which he had prepared for delivery in the Senate before the then recent Presidential election, each copy inscribed in his own handwriting, "private and confidential." He had written it when inspired with the belief that with the Administration he was a proscribed man; but his friends convinced him that it would not be best for him to throw down this gauntlet of defiance. He had, therefore, decided not to make public the indictment which he had prepared, and the few copies of it which had been given to friends was not, as was asserted, the report of a "posthumous speech." Its publication after his death by those to whom copies had been intrusted in confidence was an unpardonable breach of trust.
The great Massachusetts Senator had for years stood before the country with a strong individuality which had separated him from the machine politicians, and placed him among the statesmen of the Republic. Before the roll of the Northern drums was heard in the South, he had defiantly denounced the slave-holders in the Capitol, and when the thunder of artillery drowned the voice of oratory, he earnestly labored to have the war overthrow and eradicate slavery. Just as his hopes were realized, and as he was battling for civil rights for the enfranchised race, his life, for which his friends anticipated a long twilight, was unexpectedly brought to a close. Yet there is something so melancholy in the slow decline of great mental powers, that those who loved him the best felt a sort of relief that he had suddenly thrown off his load of domestic sorrow and passed across the dark stream into the unknown land while still in the possession of his energies.
[Facsimile]
Yours truly
H. Wilson
HENRY WILSON, born at Framington, N. H., February 16th, 1812; member
Massachusetts House of Representatives, 1840, and served four years
in the State Senate, being twice its presiding officer; United
States Senator, 1855-1871; Vice-President, March 4th, 1873 - November
22d, 1875, when he died.
CHAPTER XXVI. A NEW TERM BEGUN.
General Grant's second inauguration on Tuesday, March 4th, 1873, was shorn of its splendor by the intense cold weather. The wind blew in a perfect gale from the southwest, sweeping away the flags and other decorations from private houses and making it very disagreeable for the, nevertheless, large crowds of spectators. When the procession started from the White House, so intense was the cold that the breath of the musicians condensed in the valves of their instruments, rendering it impossible for them to play, and many of the cadets and soldiers had to leave the ranks half frozen, while the customary crowds of civilians were completely routed by the cutting blasts. The procession was headed by the regulars, followed by a battalion of half frozen West Point cadets in their light gray parade uniforms, and another of midshipmen from the Annapolis Naval School in dark blue. A division of gayly uniformed citizen-soldiers followed, including the Boston Lancers in their scarlet coats, with pennons fluttering from their lances, and the First Troop of the Philadelphia City Cavalry, which had escorted almost every preceding President, and which carried its historic flag, which was the first bearing thirteen stripes, and which was presented to the Troop in 1775.
General Grant, with a member of the Congressional Committee, rode in his own open barouche, drawn by four bay horses. In the next carriage was Henry Wilson, Vice-President, escorted by another member of the Committee, and the President's family followed. After the military came political clubs in citizens' attire, with bands and banners, the Washington Fire Department bringing up the rear.
Meanwhile the Senate had closed the labors of the Forty-second Congress, and chairs were placed in the chamber for the dignitaries, who soon began to arrive. The members of the Diplomatic Corps wore their court dresses and were resplendent with gold lace and embroidery. Chief Justice Chase, who came in at the head of the Supreme Court, looked well, although strangely changed by his full gray beard, which concealed all the lines of his face. General Sherman had been persuaded by his staff to appear in the new uniform of his rank, but, to their disgust, he wore with it a pair of bright yellow kid gloves. There were other high officers of the army and navy, with the heads of the executive departments, on the floor of the Senate, and the members of the defunct House of Representatives, who came trooping in after their adjournment, formed a background for the scene.
At twelve o'clock, Vice-President Colfax delivered a brief valedictory address, and then Henry Wilson, Vice-President-elect, delivered his salutatory, took the prescribed oath, and swore in the Senators- elect. A procession was then formed, which slowly wended its way through the rotunda to the customary platform over the steps of the eastern portico. When General Grant appeared hearty cheers were given by the vast crowd, estimated at not less then twenty thousand in number, packed behind the military escort on the plaza before the Capitol. Chief Justice Chase again administered the oath of office, and the President advanced, uncovered, to the front of the platform, and read his re-inaugural address. The wind blew a tempest at times, nearly wrenching the manuscript from his hands. No sooner had he finished reading than the salute from a neighboring light battery was echoed by the guns in the Navy Yard, the Arsenal, and at two or three forts on the Virginia side of the Potomac, which had not yet been dismantled. Before the echoes of the salutes had fairly died away, the procession started to escort President Grant back to the White House, the bleak wind making nearly every one tremble and shiver.