BEGINNING OF THE CONFLICT.

SPEECH BEFORE THE THIRD MASSACHUSETTS RIFLES, IN THE ARMORY AT NEW YORK, APRIL 21, 1861.

AFTER adjournment of the Senate, Mr. Sumner remained for some time in Washington, as was his habit. Meanwhile occurred the bombardment of Fort Sumter, and the President's Proclamation, calling for seventy-five thousand men to suppress insurrectionary combinations, "and to cause the laws to be duly executed." On the afternoon of 18th April, 1861, amidst the general commotion, he left on his way to Boston, stopping over night at Baltimore, where an incident occurred, which, besides illustrating the state of the country, helps to explain the brief speech which follows.

On arrival by the train, Mr. Sumner drove at once to Barnum's Hotel, where he entered his name in the open book. Taking a walk before dark in the principal street, he was recognized by excited persons, whose manner and language went beyond any ordinary occasion.1 Early in the evening he called on a family friend, with whom he took tea, surrounded by her children. Leaving her house about nine o'clock, he walked slowly back to the hotel. When descending Fayette Street by its side, he could not but observe an enormous assemblage of people, with very little apparent government, in the open square at the foot of the street. Entering the private door, which was at some distance from the riotous crowd, he came upon a gentleman, who, addressing him by name, expressed surprise at seeing him there, saying, "That mob in the square is after you. Their leaders have been to the hotel and demanded you. They were told that you were out, that nobody knew where you were, and that you had probably left town"; and he wound up by insisting that it was not safe for Mr. Sumner to continue at the hotel, or anywhere in town, if his place of stopping were known. Without reply to this notice, Mr. Sumner walked down

1 A telegraphic despatch in the Philadelphia Inquirer records the feeling. "Senator Sumner, who is now stopping at Barnum's Hotel, causes much excitement. There is great indignation felt among all parties at his presence among us."

the long corridor of the hotel, and, turning into the office, asked for his key. At once Mr. Barnum, with one of his assistants, took him into a small back room, where they explained the condition of things, narrated the visit of the leaders, and the answer they were able to give, by which the mob were turned aside; but this temporary relief left them still anxious, especially if Mr. Sumner's return should be suspected, and therefore they must request him to leave the hotel; and this was enforced by saying that his longer stay was perilous to the hotel as well as to himself, and that he must find shelter somewhere else. Mr. Sumner, while declaring his sincere regret that he should be the innocent occasion of peril to the hotel, said that there was nowhere else for him to go, that he had no right to carry peril to the house of a friend, — that it was impossible for him to do this, that he had come to the hotel as a traveller, and he must claim his rights, believing that in so large a structure there was more safety than in a private house, even if there were any such where he could go. The interview ended in conducting him to a chamber on a long entry of the third story, where all the rooms were alike, when, after saying that nobody in the hotel but themselves would know where he was, they left him alone. From the window which opened on the street at the side of the hotel, he could see the swaying multitude, and hear their voices. In the gray of the morning he left for the Philadelphia Railroad.1

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On the way to Philadelphia, he met a long train for Baltimore, containing the Sixth Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers, hurrying to the defence of the national capital. It was the first regiment of volunteers he had seen, and he was struck by the gayety of soldier life, which overflowed as the train passed. On his arrival at Philadelphia, the telegraph was announcing the tragedy which had befallen them.

The troops were passing through Baltimore from the Philadelphia station, in the large horse-cars, and a portion had arrived at the Washington station, when those behind were set upon by a mob, the successor of that at the hotel on the preceding evening. Before they could leave the station, the streets were barricaded, and the rails removed, so that they were obliged to make their way on foot, amidst the growing fury of the mob, which had increased to ten thousand. Stones, bricks, and other murderous missiles were thrown at them. Then came pistol-shots. As the soldiers saw their comrades fall, they fired. Several of the assailants dropped upon the pavements, and others were wounded. And so for two miles they fought their way to the Washington station. Of the troops, four were killed, and thirty-six wounded.

1 The lady at whose house Mr. Sumner took tea was warned to leave without delay, unless she was willing to brave the vengeance of the mob; and she left.

That evening the regiment quartered at Washington, in the Senate Chamber. Thus, on the 19th of April, 1861, began and closed the first encounter of the terrible war at hand.

The mob now reigned in Baltimore. Gun-shops were plundered. Other shops were closed. The President was notified that no more troops could pass through the city, unless they fought their way. That night the bridges on the railroad to Philadelphia were burnt, so that this great avenue was closed.2

On the 21st of April, the Third Battalion of Massachusetts Rifles, with Hon. Charles Devens as Major, consisting of two hundred and sixty-six men, arrived at New York from Worcester, on their way to the scene of action, and quartered in the armory of the famous New York Seventh, which had left on the preceding afternoon. On a visit to the armory by Mr. Sumner, the Battalion was called into line, and he made the following remarks.

MAJOR DEVENS, SOLDIERS, AND FELLOW-CITIZENS OF MASSACHUSETTS:

EING in New York, on my way home from Washington to our beloved Massachusetts, and learning that you also were here on your way to duty, I have called, that I might have the privilege of looking upon your faces. [Cheers.] Your commanding officer, whom I have known long in other walks of life, does me the honor of inviting me to say a few words. If I have yielded, it is because he is irresistible, for I feel in my soul that action, and not speech, is needed now. [Cheers.] Elsewhere it has been my part to speak. It is your part now to act. [Applause.] Nor do I doubt that you will act as becomes the Commonwealth that has committed to you her name. [Cheers.]

I cannot see before me so large a number of the sons of Massachusetts, already moving to the scene of trial,

1 Schouler's History of Massachusetts in the Civil War, p. 97. 2 Rebellion Record, Vol. I. Diary, pp. 34, 35.

without feeling anew the loss we have just encountered: I allude to the death, at Baltimore, of devoted fellowcitizens, who had sprung forward so promptly at the call of country. As I heard that they had fallen, my soul was touched. And yet, when I thought of the cause for which they met death, I said to myself, that, for the sake of Massachusetts, ay, and for their own. sake, I would not have it otherwise. [Enthusiastic applause.] They have died well, for they died at the post of duty, and so dying have become an example and a name in history, while Massachusetts, that sent them forth, adds new memories to a day already famous in her calendar, and links the present with the past. It was on the 19th of April that they died, and their blood was the first offering of patriotism in the great cause which snatched them from the avocations of peace. Thus have they passed at once into companionship with those forefathers who on the 19th of April, 1775, made also the offering of their blood. [Loud cheers.] Lexington is not alone. As on that historic field, Massachusetts blood is again the first to be spilled, and in a conflict which is but a continuation of the other; and these dying volunteers have placed Massachusetts once more foremost, as on that morning which heralded Independence. [Cheers.] Therefore I would not have it otherwise. [Cheers.] Nor do I doubt that the day we now deplore will be followed, as was that earlier day, by certain triumph. [Cheers.]

Those other times, when our forefathers struggled for Independence against the British power, were often said "to try men's souls"; and these words are yet repeated to depict those trials. But, witnessing the willingness and alacrity with which patriot citizens now offer them

selves for country, and to die, if need be, I look in vain for signs that souls are tried. [Cheers.] And yet I cannot disguise from you, soldiers, that there are hardships and perils in your path. But what is victory, unless through hardship and peril? [Cheers.] Be brave, then, and do the duty to which you are called; and if you need any watchword, let it be, Massachusetts, THE CONSTITUTION, and FREEDOM! [Loud applause from the soldiers.]

On the same evening, the Battalion embarked on board the transport “Ariel” for Annapolis, where it arrived on the morning of April 24th, and on the 2d of May was transferred to Fort McHenry, in the harbor of Baltimore. There it remained to the end of its term of service.