The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1870-02-10
. The Fiual Peabody Ohseauies.
WiNTHRoPs oRATIoN-TuE PROCESSION.
THE INTERMENT

Inc exordium Of Robert c. Winthrop's ell
oquent discourse at the funeral of George
Peabody, at Peabody, Mass, on the 9Th of
February, is largely devoted to conjectures as
to whether the great philanthropist would, if
conscious of the posthumous honors paid to
his memory, have approved Of them. The
decision is emphaticaly that he would be ex-
tremely gratified. Mr.. Winthrop says:
Our lamented friend was not, indeed, with
out ambition. He not only liked to do grand
things, but he liked to do them in a grand
way. We all remember those sumptuous and
princely banquets, with which he sometimes
diversified the habitual simplicity and irusa an
ty of his daily life. He was not Without q ue-
cided taste for occasional display,-cah IL even
ostentation. if YOU will We certainly may
| NOT ascribe TO him a pre-eminent measure OF
that sort of charity which shuns publicity,
which sbrinks from observation, and which,
according to one of our Saviour's well-remem-
bered injunctions, "doeth its aims in secret. y
He may, or he may not, have exercised as
much OF this kind of bene1cence, as any OF
| those in similar condition around him, / full
lly believe that he did. We all understand,
however, that
nO !i that best portion of good mans lie,
His little namsless, unremembeTed acts
vi hlnuneSS ana OF love-,
there can be no record except on high,-or in
| the grateful hearts of those who have been
| aided and relieved. That record shall be re-
vealed hereafter. The world can know little
| or nothing of it now.
But any one must perceive, at glance,
| that the sort of charity which our lamented
friend illustrated and exercised, was wholly
Incompatible with cOncealment or reserve
The great Trusts which he established, the
great Institutions which he founded, the ca
pacious and costly edifices which he erected.
were things that could not be hid, which could
not be done in a corner. They were, il their
| own intrinsic and essential nature, patent to
| the worlds eye. He could not have PERFORM
| ed these noble acts in his lifetime, as it was
his peculiar choice to do, and as it will be his
peculiar distinction and glory to have done,
without suffering himself "to be seen of
men," without being known, and recognized,
and celebrated as their author. He must
have postponed them all, as others have done,
for posthumous execution; he must have re-
| Trained from parting with his millions until
death should have wrested them from a reluc-
| tant grasp-had he shrunk from the notOriety
and celebrity which inevitably attend upon
| such career.
He did not fail to remember, however,-for
he was DO stranger to the Bible-that there
were at least two modes of doing good COM
mended in holy Writ. He did not forget,
that the same glorious gospel, nay, that the
same Incompatible Sermon on the Mount,
which said, "Let not thy left hand know what
| thy right hand doeth," said, also, "Let your
| light SO shine before men, that they may see
your good works, and glorify your Father
which is in heaven" This, this might almost
be regarded as the chosen motto Of his later
life, and might, not inappropriately, be in
scribed as such on his tombstone.
Certainly, my friends, his light has shone
before men. Certainly, they have seen his
coed WORKS. And who shall doubt that thew
have glorified his Father which is in heaven ?
Yes, glory to God, glory to God in the high
est, has, am persuaded, swollen I'D from the
hearts OF millions, in both hemispheres. with
new fervor, as they have followed him in his
grand clrcumnavigation of benevolence. and
as they have witnessed, one after another. his
muillfOld and magnificent endowments. And
DIS own heart, repeat, would have throbbed
and thrilled, as it never thrilled or throbbed
before, with gratitude to God and man, could
ne have foreseep that the matchless example
OF munificence, which it had been the cher
ished ann OF his later years to exhibit, would
De rendered, as 1t has now been rendered. so
signal, SO inspiring, so enduring SO immortal.
| by the homage which has been paid to his
memory by the princes and potentates, as
well as by the poor, of the Old World, and by
the government and the whole people of bis
own beloved country.
have spoken of the exhibition of this ex-
ample, as having been the cherished aim of
his later years; but 1 am not without authori-
ty 1or saying, that it was among the fondest
wishes OF his whole mature life. l cannot
| forget, that, in one of those confidential CON
situations with which he honored me some
years since, after unfolding his plans, and tell
ing me substantially all that he designed to
ao,-for, almost everything he did was of his
| own original designing,-and when was fill
| ed with admiration and amazement at fine
magnitude and sublimity of his purposes, he
sad to me, with that guieless simplicity
which characterized so much of his social in
tercourse and conversation, "Why, Mr.. Win
throp, this is no new idea to me- From the
earliest years of my manhood, I have con.
templated some such disposition of nv prop
| erty and have prayed my Heavenly Father,
| day by day, that might be enabled, before /
died, to show my gratitude for the blessings
which He has bestowed upon me, by doing
some great good to my fellow-men."
I do not altess.Le- c,.s~t ti.vsO 11.~S~..asss
| OF OLD, whom philosophers and poets have SO
| delighted to extol. do not forget the pass-
| ing tribute of the great Roman orator to one
| OF the publicans of his.own period, as having
| displayed an incredible benignity in amassing
| vast fortune, not "as the prev of avarice
but as the instrument of doing good.~ I do
not forget the founders of the Royal Exchange
IN London, and of the noble hospital in Edi1-
burgh; the princely merchant OF Queen Eliz-
abeth's day, or the Singing Geordie" of Eng
strikingly Edmund Burke foreshadowed our
iamented friend, when he said of bis own crn-
tempoIaries, His fortune is among the larg-
est,-a fortune which. wholly unencumbered.
as IL is, without one single charge from luxu-
~, vanity, or excess, sinks under the benevo-
lence, expanding itself into patriotism, rem
ders his whole being the estate of the public.
in which he has not reserved a peculium for
himself, OF profit, diversion, or relaxationn I
do not forget the Baron de Monthyon. of
France, whose noble benefactions are annual
ly distributed by the Imperial Academy, and
whose portrait has been combined with that
OF our own Franklin on medal commemora-
tive OF their kindred beneficence. l recall
TOO, the refrain of an ode to late munificent
English duke, on the erection of his statue at
BelVolr Castle, which might well have been
sung again, when Story's statue of our friend
was recently unveiled by the Prince of Wales,
mOh, my brethren, what glory
10 the world Ia one good man.
Nor do fail to remember the long roll of ben
elactors, dead and living, of whom our own
age, and our own country,-New England
and Old England, may so Justly boast. But
no one imagines that either Caius GURUS. or
Sir Thomas Gresham, or George Heriot. or
Sir George Savile, or any Duke of Rutland
or Monthyon, or Franklin, or any of the later
and larger beEefactors of our own time or
land, can ever vie in historic celebrity. as a
practical philanthropist, with him whom we
bury here to-day.
1t would be doing grevious Injustice to orr
lamented friend, were we to DENY or conceal
That there were elements in his Character
winch made his own warfare, in this respect.
a stern one. He was no stranger to the love
OF accumulation. He was no stranger to the
passion for gaining and saving and boarding.
Ihere were In his nature the germs of econ
omy and even of parsimony; and sometimes
tney would sprout and spring up, in spite of
himself Nothing less strong than his own
will, nothing less indomitable, than his own
courage, could have enabled him, by the grace
OF God, to strive successfully against that
greedy, grudging, avarcious spirit, which SO
often besets the talent for acquisition. In
thousand little ways, you might perceive, to
The last, how much within he had contended |
against, how much within him he had over |
come and vanquished. All the more glorious
and signal was the victory! All the more de- |
served and appropriate are these trappings of |
triumph, with which his remains have been |
'estored to us! You rob him of his richest |
aurel, you refuse him his brightest crown,
when you attempt to cover I'M or dispuisa anv