In reply to an inquiry from home, Hon. James Buffinton, of the House of Representatives, wrote:—
“The Massachusetts delegation in Congress will stand by Mr. Sumner and his late speech. There will be no backing down by us, and I am in hopes our people at home will pursue the same course.”
The Mayor of Washington invited Mr. Sumner to make affidavit of the facts, or to lodge a complaint, which the latter declined to do, saying that he and his friends had no inducement from the past to rely upon Washington magistrates. At last the Mayor brought the original offender, being a well-known Washington office-holder of Virginia, to Mr. Sumner’s room, when he apologized for his conduct, and denied all knowledge of the visitors later in the evening who left the brutal message.
The friends of Mr. Sumner did not feel entirely relieved. Among these was his private secretary, A. B. Johnson, Esq., afterwards chief clerk of the Lighthouse Board, who, untiring in friendship and fidelity, without consulting him, arranged protection for the night, and a body-guard between his lodgings and the Senate. The latter service was generously assumed by citizens of Kansas, who, under the captaincy of Augustus Wattles, insisted upon testifying in this way their sense of his efforts for them. Apprised of Mr. Sumner’s habit of walking to and from the Capitol, they watched his door, and, as he came out, put themselves at covering distance behind, with revolvers in hand, and then, unknown to him, followed to the door of the Senate. In the same way they followed him home. This body-guard, especially in connection with the previous menace, illustrates the era of Slavery.
The personal incident just described was lost in the larger discussion caused by the speech itself, in the press and in correspondence.
THE PRESS.
The appearance of the Senate at the delivery of the speech was described by the correspondent of the New York Herald in his letter of the same date.
“During the delivery of this exasperating bill of charges, specifications, and denunciation of that ‘sum of all villanies,’ Slavery, a profound and most ominous silence prevailed on the floor of the Senate and in the galleries. We have no recollection in our experience here, running through a period of twenty years, of anything like this ominous silence during the delivery of a speech for Buncombe, on Slavery, by a Northern fanatic or a Southern fire-eater. We say ominous silence, because we can only recognize it as something fearfully ominous,—ominous of mischief,—ominous of the revival in this capital and throughout the country of the Slavery agitation, with a tenfold bitterness compared with any previous stirring up of the fountains of bitter waters.”
The correspondent of the New York Tribune of the same date wrote:—