The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1881-10-01 00:00:00

find words that could reach that lofty level: This is no
plies for the turnings and windings of dexterous rhetoric.
In the presence of that death-scene so homely, so human,
so august in its unostentatious heroism, the commonplaces
of ordinary eulogy stammer with the sudden shame of
their own ineptitude. Were we allowed to follow the
natural prompting of our hearts, we would sum up all
praise in the sacred old words, "Well done, thou good and
faithful servant." (Cheers.) 'The death-scene was more
than singular. It was unexampled. The whole civilized
world was gathered about it in the breathless suspense of
anxious solicitude, listened to the difficult breathing,
counted the fluttering pulse, was cheered by the momen-
tary rally and saddened by the inevitable relapse. And
let us thank God and take courage when we reflect tha4 it
was throuzh the manliness, the patience, the reliiious for-
titude of the splendid victim that the tie of human brother-
hood was thrilled to a consciousness of its sacred function.
The one touch of nature that makes the whole world kin is
a touch of heroism, our sympathy with which dignifies and
ennobles. Science has wrought no greater marvel in the
service of humanity than when it cave the world a com-
mon nervous system, and thus made mankind capable of a
simultaneoui emotion. One remarkable feature of that
death-scene was the imperturbable good nature of the suf-
ferer. This has been sometimes called a peculiarly American
quality—a weakness if in excess or misapplied, but beautiful
in its own genial place, as there and then it was. General
Garfield once said to a friend, "They tell me it is a defect of
my character, but I cannot hate anybody." Like Socrates,
he seemed good-humoured even with death, though there
have been few men from whom death has ever wrenched a
fairer heritage of opportunity. Physicians tell us that all
men die well, but surely he was no ordinary man who could
die well daily for eleven agonizing weeks, and of whom it
could be said at last—
"He nothing common did, or mean,
Upon that memorable scene."
A fibre capable of such strain and wear as that is only used
in the making of heroic natures. Twenty years ago General
Garfield offered his life to his country, and he has died
for her as truly and more fruitfully now than if fate had
accepted the offer then. (Cheers.) Not only has his blood
cemented our Union, but the dignity, the patience, the
self-restraint, the thoughtfulness for others, the serene
valour which he showed under circumstances so dishearten-
ing, and amid the wreck of hopes so splendid, are a posses-
sion and a stimulus to his countrymen for ever. The emula-
tion of examples like his makes nations great, and keeps
them so. The soil out of which such men as he are made is
good to be born on, good to live on, good to die for and to
be buried in. (Cheers.) I had not the honour of any inti-
macy of friendship with this noble man. Others will speak
of him from more intimate knowledge. I saw him once or
twice only, but so deeply was I impressed with the serious-
ness and solidity of his character, with his eager interest
In worthy objects, and with the statesmanlike furniture of
his mind, that when many years afterwards he was nomi-
nated for the Presidency I rejoiced in the wisdom of the
selection, and found in my memory an image of him
clearer than that of any man I ever met of whom I had
seen so little. And I may add that I have never known
any man concerning whom a loving and admiring testimony
was so uniform from men of every rank and character who
had known him.