I must object to it with my whole soul. I consider it a most vicious proposition, utterly untenable. The Constitution of the United States says:—

Not even from the German Empire. Congress has followed one rule from the beginning, I believe,—never to allow its diplomatic agents to receive anything from a foreign power. It has allowed its naval officers, who have rendered some humane service at sea to the subjects of a foreign power, to receive some reward or recognition, some honor, some compliment; but it has never allowed any person in its diplomatic service to receive any such reward, honor, or compliment. I think the Senate will see that this rule proceeds on a ground from which we cannot depart. It is, that our representatives abroad must be kept always above all suspicion of acting under foreign influence, or the temptation of foreign reward. Nor should we, Sir, be gratified, I think, to see these representatives abroad wearing at their button-holes the insignia of any foreign power.

I hope, Sir, the Senate will not take up this matter again. It ought to be allowed to drop out of sight.

PRESERVATION OF THE PARK AT WASHINGTON.

Sir, I do not think that this privilege ought to be granted, and my reason is precise and specific. It proposes to take a considerable section of land, which, if you look on the map, you will see properly belongs to the Park of Washington. I am unwilling, at this early period in the history of this metropolis, to begin by cutting out a slice from this inclosure set apart for the future. If you do it now, where are you to stop? Will you not be called to cut out another slice next year, or in five years,—and may not the Park be reduced from that form and those proportions it promises to enjoy? This metropolis is now at its beginning, and yet doubling in a decade. During the last ten years its population has multiplied twofold; and in the coming ten years there is every reason to believe that the development will be as large, if not larger. Of course with the increase of population is the demand for a park, especially in the central situation which that enjoys. I use the language of another, when I say that parks are the lungs of a great city; but where will be the lungs of this metropolis, if you begin now to reduce the Park? Rather should we sacredly keep it all intact, so that hereafter, when you and I, Sir, have passed away, and this metropolis has grown to a grandeur and beauty which imagination cannot now conceive, that Park may remain in its entirety, a blessing to the people, for which they themselves in turn will bless us.

Sir, I was born in a city which has the enjoyment of such a blessing. There is in Boston what is known as The Common, set apart in the very earliest days of the old town, when it was in fact what the name implies,—a common for the pasturage of cattle; but, though often assailed, it has been preserved untouched. Railroad corporations and other companies have tried in vain to obtain a corner from it. The jealous city fathers have saved that beautiful piece of earth, till now it is the first treasure of Boston,—unless we except her common schools, where all are equal before the law. I have often thought what would have ensued if some time ago, yielding to corporation pressure in its various forms, the city had consented to sacrifice that beautiful inclosure. There it is, the very apple of the eye to Boston; and nobody now fears that it will be diminished by a foot.

And should not Washington have a similar possession? Are you willing, Sir, now at this early moment of her history, when she is just beginning to grow, or rather when her growth is just beginning to be apparent, to despoil her of this unquestionable attraction, where the useful and the beautiful commingle? I think, Sir, you will act improvidently, if you do so. I think you will act against the best interests of the city, whether you look at health, beauty, or enjoyment; for a park ministers to all these.

Therefore, Sir, would I keep it intact. By no consent of Congress would I allow any business interest or disturbing railroad company to fasten itself upon this inclosure. They should be excluded; and when I say this, I would not carry them off far. Let them plant their stations just the other side. They will then be perhaps a third of a mile from Pennsylvania Avenue, traversing the centre of population with conveniences such as railroads in no other city enjoy. With those open to them, why should we allow them to enter our pleasure-grounds? If there were no proper place without going a long distance, a mile or two miles, there would be some reason, perhaps, for entertaining this question; but when I consider the facilities which they may enjoy only the other side of the Park line, with land there cheap and easy to be had, I am astonished that any one can be willing to sacrifice the Park simply to bring them a few rods nearer Pennsylvania Avenue.

And this brings me to the question of travel on the Avenue. If you put a railway station as is proposed, you will bring on the Avenue all that glut and accumulation of carriages and wagons always concentrated about the terminus of a great line of travel. I think it will be injurious to the Avenue. That alone would be a reason with me against the bill.

But as often as I think of the question, I come back to the Park, which, say what you will, is destined to be one of the most important possessions of this metropolis, and for the special enjoyment of the people. They will enjoy this Capitol, for it is beautiful to behold,—also the other public edifices, some of them excellent in style and grateful to the eye; but nothing of all these will be what we may expect that Park to be,—a place where the young and old will resort of an evening to enjoy innocent recreation and congenial society, while the open air or the opportunities of exercise impart to them that best blessing, health. Sir, that Park should not be sacrificed; and if you have any doubt, let me lay before you the testimony of another place. I have already cited Boston; I now call your attention to Philadelphia. You know the remarkable park which has been opened there. I stopped a day in Philadelphia last summer, on my way home, especially to see and enjoy this magnificent resort; and I was well rewarded. I beheld the most beautiful park, certainly in its promise, on this continent; and I doubt if there is one even in the European world of equal promise. But no one can enter its grounds without annoyance and trouble from the railroad-crossings, and the perpetual sound of the steam-engine with its shrill whistle, so little in harmony with pleasure-grounds.

It requires no scientific knowledge, no practical acquaintance with railroads, to see that those crossings are a positive nuisance, and that the hospitable park set apart for the population of a mighty city, and destined to be one of the most beautiful objects of the civilized world, actually suffers from the nuisance. I appeal to Senators who have visited it; I know that there is not one who will say that I am not right. There is not one who has ever entered those grounds, not even the Senator from Pennsylvania who pioneers this bill, that will not say he regrets those railroad-crossings and wishes them out of the way. But I shall not rely upon the authority of the Senator or my own testimony. I have in my hand the last annual report of the Commissioners, and I wish the Senate to hear what they say:—

Now see, Senators, how this applies to the present case,—

The Commissioners then make certain recommendations, which I will not take up time to read. But I come to a brief passage:—

That is testimony. If this were a court of justice instead of the Senate, and if you, Sir, were a court and the Senators now before me were a jury, that would be a testimony conclusive in the case,—testimony of experts, who know by experience what they testify, who have seen with their own eyes and felt in their own consciousness, whenever they entered that park, the nuisance against which I now protest. Sir, they testify against the present bill. Can you answer the testimony? Is it not clear? Is it not complete?

Sir, I need no testimony. I only ask Senators to look at the Park. Let them pass through our Library and take their stand on that unequalled portico from which they may look down upon an amphitheatre more like that of ancient Rome than that of any other capital, with a river beneath and hills in the distance,—a river much larger than the ancient Tiber, and hills much more beautiful than those that stand about Rome,—and a Capitol, too, but how much more beautiful than that which once gave the law to mankind! Stand on that portico, Sir, and survey the amphitheatre; your eye will then rest with satisfaction on the outline of this very Park, stretching from the Capitol beyond the Executive Mansion, and destined to be a breathing-place for the immense population of future generations. Stand on that portico and try to imagine what this Park may be.

And now it is proposed not only to diminish that breathing-place, but to disturb it by the smoke of steam-engines, and to confuse it by the perpetual din of locomotives. I hope no such thing will be done. There is a place for all things; and this I know, the place for a railway-station is not a public park.

HOURS OF LABOR.

ARBITRATION AS A SUBSTITUTE FOR WAR.

Whereas for generations good men have protested against the irrational character of this arbitrament, where force instead of justice prevails, and have anxiously sought for a substitute in the nature of a judicial tribunal, all of which was expressed by Franklin in his exclamation, “When will mankind be convinced that all wars are follies, very expensive and very mischievous, and agree to settle their differences by Arbitration?”[44] and

Whereas war once prevailed in the determination of differences between individuals, between cities, between counties, and between provinces, being recognized in all these cases as the arbiter of justice, but at last yielded to a judicial tribunal, and now, in the progress of civilization, the time has come for the extension of this humane principle to nations, so that their differences may be taken from the arbitrament of war, and, in conformity with these examples, submitted to a judicial tribunal; and

Whereas Arbitration has been formally recognized as a substitute for war in the determination of differences between nations, being especially recommended by the Congress of Paris, where were assembled the representatives of England, France, Russia, Prussia, Austria, Sardinia, and Turkey, and afterward adopted by the United States in formal treaty with Great Britain for the determination of differences arising from depredations of British cruisers, and also from opposing claims with regard to the San Juan boundary; and

Whereas it becomes important to consider and settle the true character of this beneficent tribunal, thus commended and adopted, so that its authority and completeness as a substitute for war may not be impaired, but strengthened and upheld, to the end that civilization may be advanced and war be limited in its sphere: Therefore,

1. Resolved, That in the determination of international differences Arbitration should become a substitute for war in reality as in name, and therefore coëxtensive with war in jurisdiction, so that any question or grievance which might be the occasion of war or of misunderstanding between nations should be considered by this tribunal.

2. Resolved, That any withdrawal from a treaty recognizing Arbitration, or any refusal to abide the judgment of the accepted tribunal, or any interposition of technicalities to limit the proceedings, is to this extent a disparagement of the tribunal as a substitute for war, and therefore hostile to civilization.

3. Resolved, That the United States, having at heart the cause of peace everywhere, and hoping to help its permanent establishment between nations, hereby recommend the adoption of Arbitration as a just and practical method for the determination of international differences, to be maintained sincerely and in good faith, so that war may cease to be regarded as a proper form of trial between nations.

REPUBLICANISM VS. GRANTISM.

SPEECH.

MR. PRESIDENT,—I have no hesitation in declaring myself a member of the Republican Party, and one of the straitest of the sect. I doubt if any Senator can point to earlier or more constant service in its behalf. I began at the beginning, and from that early day have never failed to sustain its candidates and to advance its principles. For these I have labored always by speech and vote, in the Senate and elsewhere,—at first with few only, but at last, as success began to dawn, then with multitudes flocking forward. In this cause I never asked who were my associates or how many they would number. In the consciousness of right I was willing to be alone. To such a party, with which so much of my life is intertwined, I have no common attachment. Not without regret can I see it suffer; not without a pang can I see it changed from its original character, for such a change is death. Therefore do I ask, with no common feeling, that the peril which menaces it may pass away. I stood by its cradle; let me not follow its hearse.

ORIGIN AND OBJECT OF THE REPUBLICAN PARTY.

Turning back to its birth, I recall a speech of my own at a State Convention in Massachusetts, as early as September 7, 1854, where I vindicated its principles and announced its name in these words: “As Republicans we go forth to encounter the Oligarchs of Slavery.”[45] The report records the applause with which this name was received by the excited multitude. Years of conflict ensued, in which the good cause constantly gained. At last, in the spring of 1860, Abraham Lincoln was nominated by this party as its candidate for the Presidency; and here pardon me, if I refer again to myself. On my way home from the Senate I was detained in New York by the invitation of party friends to speak at the Cooper Institute on the issues of the pending election. The speech was made July 11, and, I believe, was the earliest of the campaign. As published at the time, it was entitled “Origin, Necessity, and Permanence of the Republican Party,” and to exhibit these was its precise object. Both the necessity and permanence of the party were asserted. A brief passage, which I take from the report in the “New York Herald,” will show the duty and destiny I ventured then to hold up. After dwelling on the evils of Slavery and the corruptions it had engendered, including the purchase of votes at the polls, I proceeded as follows:—

Such, on the eve of the Presidential election, was my description of the Republican Party and my aspiration for its future. It was not to die, but, “purified by its long contest with Slavery and filled with higher life,” we were to behold it “lifted to yet other efforts and with nobler aims for the good of man.” Here was nothing personal, nothing mean or petty. The Republican Party was necessary and permanent, and always on an ascending plane. For such a party there was no death, but higher life and nobler aims; and this was the party to which I gave my vows. But, alas, how changed! Once country was the object, and not a man; once principle was inscribed on the victorious banners, and not a name only.

THE REPUBLICAN PARTY SEIZED BY THE PRESIDENT.

It is not difficult to indicate when this disastrous change, exalting the will of one man above all else, became not merely manifest, but painfully conspicuous. Already it had begun to show itself in personal pretensions, to which I shall refer soon, when, suddenly and without any warning through the public press or any expression from public opinion, the President elected by the Republican Party precipitated upon the country an ill-considered and ill-omened scheme for the annexion of a portion of the island of San Domingo, in pursuance of a treaty negotiated by a person of his own household styling himself “Aide-de-Camp to the President of the United States.” Had this effort, however injudicious in object, been confined to ordinary and constitutional proceedings, with proper regard for a coördinate branch of the Government, it would have soon dropped out of sight and been remembered only as a blunder. But it was not so. Strangely and unaccountably, it was pressed for months by every means and appliance of power, whether at home or abroad, now reaching into the Senate Chamber, and now into the waters about the island. Reluctant Senators were subdued to its support, while, treading under foot the Constitution in one of its most distinctive republican principles, the President seized the war powers of the nation, instituted foreign intervention, and capped the climax of usurpation by menace of violence to the Black Republic of Hayti, where the colored race have begun the experiment of self-government,—thus adding manifest outrage of International Law to manifest outrage of the Constitution, while the long-suffering African was condemned to new indignity. All these things, so utterly indefensible and aggravating, and therefore to be promptly disowned, found defenders on this floor. The President who was the original author of the wrongs continued to maintain them, and appealed to Republican Senators for help,—thus fulfilling the eccentric stipulation with the Government of Baez executed by his Aide-de-Camp.

At last a Republican Senator, who felt it his duty to exhibit these plain violations of the Constitution and of International Law, and then in obedience to the irresistible promptings of his nature and in harmony with his whole life pleaded for the equal rights of the Black Republic, who declared that he did this as a Republican and to save the party from this wretched complicity,—this Republican Senator, engaged in a patriotic service, and anxious to save the colored people from outrage, was denounced on this floor as a traitor to the party; and this was done by a Senator speaking for the party, and known to be in intimate relations with the President guilty of these wrongs. Evidently the party was in process of change from that generous association dedicated to Human Rights and to the guardianship of the African race. Too plainly it was becoming the instrument of one man and his personal will,—no matter how much he set at defiance the Constitution and International Law, or how much he insulted the colored people. The President was to be maintained at all hazards, notwithstanding his aberrations, and all who called them in question were to be struck down.

In exhibiting this autocratic pretension, so revolutionary and unrepublican in character, I mean to be moderate in language and to keep within the strictest bounds. The facts are indisputable, and nobody can deny the gross violation of the Constitution and of International Law with insult to the Black Republic,—the whole case being more reprehensible, as also plainly more unconstitutional and more illegal, than anything alleged against Andrew Johnson on his impeachment. Believe me, Sir, I should gladly leave this matter to the judgment already recorded, if it were not put in issue again by the extraordinary efforts, radiating on every line of office, to press its author for a second term as President; and since silence gives consent, all these efforts are his efforts. They become more noteworthy when it is considered that the name of the candidate thus pressed has become a sign of discord and not of concord, dividing instead of uniting the Republican Party, so that these extraordinary efforts tend directly to the disruption of the party,—all of which he witnesses, and again by his silence ratifies. “Let the party split,” says the President, “I will not renounce my chance of a second term.” The extent of this personal pressure and the subordination of the party to the will of an individual compel us to consider his pretensions. These, too, are in issue.

PRESIDENTIAL PRETENSIONS.

“Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed,” that he should assume so much? No honor for victory in war can justify disobedience to the Constitution and to Law; nor can it afford the least apology for any personal immunity, privilege, or license in the Presidential office. A President must turn into a King before it can be said of him that he can do no wrong. He is responsible always. As President he is foremost servant of the Law, bound to obey its slightest mandate. As the elect of the people he owes not only the example of willing obedience, but also of fidelity and industry in the discharge of his exalted office, with an absolute abnegation of all self-seeking. Nothing for self, but all for country. And now, as we regard the career of this candidate, we find to our amazement how little it accords with this simple requirement. Bring it to the touchstone and it fails.

Not only are Constitution and Law disregarded, but the Presidential office itself is treated as little more than a plaything and a perquisite,—when not the former, then the latter. Here the details are ample, showing how from the beginning this august trust has dropped to be a personal indulgence, where palace-cars, fast horses, and seaside loiterings figure more than duties; how personal aims and objects have been more prominent than the public interest; how the Presidential office has been used to advance his own family on a scale of nepotism dwarfing everything of the kind in our history, and hardly equalled in the corrupt governments where this abuse has most prevailed; how in the same spirit office has been conferred upon those from whom he had received gifts or benefits, thus making the country repay his personal obligations; how personal devotion to himself, rather than public or party service, has been made the standard of favor; how the vast appointing power conferred by the Constitution for the general welfare has been employed at his will to promote his schemes, to reward his friends, to punish his opponents, and to advance his election to a second term; how all these assumptions have matured in a personal government, semi-military in character and breathing the military spirit,—being a species of Cæsarism or personalism, abhorrent to republican institutions, where subservience to the President is the supreme law; how in maintaining this subservience he has operated by a system of combinations, military, political, and even senatorial, having their orbits about him, so that, like the planet Saturn, he is surrounded by rings,—nor does the similitude end here, for his rings, like those of the planet, are held in position by satellites; how this utterly unrepublican Cæsarism has mastered the Republican Party and dictated the Presidential will, stalking into the Senate Chamber itself, while a vindictive spirit visits good Republicans who cannot submit; how the President himself, unconscious that a President has no right to quarrel with anybody, insists upon quarrelling until he has become the great Presidential quarreller, with more quarrels than all other Presidents together, all begun and continued by himself; how his personal followers back him in quarrels, insult those he insults, and then, not departing from his spirit, cry out, with Shakespeare, “We will have rings and things and fine array”; and, finally, how the chosen head of the Republic is known chiefly for Presidential pretensions, utterly indefensible in character, derogatory to the country, and of evil influence, making personal objects a primary pursuit, so that, instead of a beneficent presence, he is a bad example, through whom republican institutions suffer and the people learn to do wrong.

Would that these things could be forgotten! but since through officious friends the President insists upon a second term, they must be considered and publicly discussed. When understood, nobody will vindicate them. It is easy to see that Cæsarism even in Europe is at a discount, that “personal government” has been beaten on that ancient field, and that “Cæsar with a Senate at his heels” is not the fit model for our Republic. King George the Third of England, so peculiar for narrowness and obstinacy, had retainers in Parliament who went under the name of “The King’s Friends.” Nothing can be allowed here to justify the inquiry, “Have we a King George among us?”—or that other question, “Have we a party in the Senate of ‘The King’s Friends’?”

PERSONAL GOVERNMENT UNREPUBLICAN.

Personal Government is autocratic. It is the One-Man Power elevated above all else, and is therefore in direct conflict with republican government, whose consummate form is tripartite, being executive, legislative, and judicial,—each independent and coëqual. From Mr. Madison, in “The Federalist,” we learn that the accumulation of these powers “in the same hands” may justly be pronounced “the very definition of Tyranny.”[47] And so any attempt by either to exercise the powers of another is a tyrannical invasion, always reprehensible in proportion to its extent. John Adams tells us, in most instructive words, that “it is by balancing each of these powers against the other two that the efforts in human nature towards tyranny can alone be checked and restrained, and any degree of freedom preserved in the Constitution.”[48]

Then, again, the same authority says that the perfection of this great idea is “by giving each division a power to defend itself by a negative.”[49] In other words, each is armed against invasion by the others. Accordingly, the Constitution of Virginia, in 1776, famous as an historical precedent, declared expressly: “The legislative, executive, and judiciary departments shall be separate and distinct, so that neither exercise the powers properly belonging to the other; nor shall any person exercise the powers of more than one of them at the same time.”[50]

The Constitution of Massachusetts, dating from 1780, embodied the same principle in memorable words: “In the government of this Commonwealth, the legislative department shall never exercise the executive and judicial powers, or either of them; the executive shall never exercise the legislative and judicial powers, or either of them; the judicial shall never exercise the legislative and executive powers, or either of them: to the end it may be a government of laws and not of men.”[51]

A government of laws and not of men is the object of republican government; nay, more, it is the distinctive essence without which it becomes a tyranny. Therefore personal government in all its forms, and especially when it seeks to sway the action of any other branch or overturn its constitutional negative, is hostile to the first principles of republican institutions, and an unquestionable outrage. That our President has offended in this way is unhappily too apparent.

THE PRESIDENT AS A CIVILIAN.

To comprehend the personal government that has been installed over us we must know its author. His picture is the necessary frontispiece,—not as soldier, let it be borne in mind, but as civilian. The President is titular head of the Army and Navy of the United States, but his office is not military or naval. As if to exclude all question, he is classed by the Constitution among “civil officers.” Therefore as civilian is he to be seen. Then, perhaps, may we learn the secret of the policy so adverse to republicanism in which he perseveres.

To appreciate his peculiar character as a civilian it is important to know his triumphs as a soldier, for the one is the natural complement of the other. The successful soldier is rarely changed to the successful civilian. There seems an incompatibility between the two, modified by the extent to which one has been allowed to exclude the other. One always a soldier cannot late in life become a statesman; one always a civilian cannot late in life become a soldier. Education and experience are needed for each. Washington and Jackson were civilians as well as soldiers.

In the large training and experience of Antiquity the soldier and civilian were often united; but in modern times this has been seldom. The camp is peculiar in the influence it exercises; it is in itself an education; but it is not the education of the statesman. To suppose that we can change without preparation from the soldier to the statesman is to assume that training and experience are of less consequence for the one than the other,—that a man may be born a statesman, but can fit himself as a soldier only by four years at West Point, careful scientific study, the command of troops, and experience in the tented field. And is nothing required for the statesman? Is his duty so slight? His study is the nation and its welfare, turning always to history for example, to law for authority, and to the loftiest truth for rules of conduct. No knowledge, care, or virtue, disciplined by habit, can be too great. The pilot is not accepted in his trust until he knows the signs of the storm, the secrets of navigation, the rocks of the coast,—all of which are learned only by careful study with charts and soundings, by coasting the land and watching the crested wave. But can less be expected of that other pilot who is to steer the ship which contains us all?

The failure of the modern soldier as statesman is exhibited by Mr. Buckle in his remarkable work on the “History of Civilization.” Writing as a philosopher devoted to liberal ideas, he does not disguise that in Antiquity “the most eminent soldiers were likewise the most eminent politicians”; but he plainly shows the reason when he adds, that “in the midst of the hurry and turmoil of camps these eminent men cultivated their minds to the highest point that the knowledge of that age would allow.”[52] The secret was culture not confined to war. In modern Europe few soldiers have been more conspicuous than Gustavus Adolphus and Frederick sometimes called the Great; but we learn from our author that both “failed ignominiously in their domestic policy, and showed themselves as short-sighted in the arts of peace as they were sagacious in the arts of war.”[53] The judgment of Marlborough is more pointed. While portraying him as “the greatest conqueror of his age, the hero of a hundred fights, the victor of Blenheim and of Ramillies,” the same philosophical writer adds that he was “a man not only of the most idle and frivolous pursuits, but was so miserably ignorant that his deficiencies made him the ridicule of his contemporaries,” while his politics were compounded of selfishness and treachery.[54] Nor was Wellington an exception. Though shining in the field without a rival, and remarkable for integrity of purpose, an unflinching honesty, and high moral feeling, the conqueror of Waterloo is described as “nevertheless utterly unequal to the complicated exigencies of political life.”[55] This judgment of the philosopher is confirmed by that of Metternich, the renowned statesman, who, after encountering Wellington at the Congresses of Vienna and Verona, did not hesitate to write of him as “the great Baby.”[56] Such are the examples of history, each with its warning.

It would be hard to find anything in the native endowments or in the training of our chieftain to make him an illustrious exception; at least nothing of this kind is recorded. Was Nature more generous with him than with Marlborough or Wellington, Gustavus Adolphus or Frederick called the Great? or was his experience of life a better preparation than theirs? And yet they failed, except in war. It is not known that our chieftain had any experience as a civilian until he became President, nor does any partisan attribute to him that double culture which in Antiquity made the same man soldier and statesman. It has often been said that he took no note of public affairs, never voting but once in his life, and then for James Buchanan. After leaving West Point he became a captain in the Army, but soon abandoned the service, to reappear at a later day as a successful general. There is no reason to believe that he employed this intermediate period in any way calculated to improve him as a statesman. One of his unhesitating supporters, my colleague, [Mr. Wilson,] in a speech intended to commend him for reëlection, says: “Before the war we knew nothing of Grant. He was earning a few hundred dollars a year in tanning hides in Galena.”[57] By the war he passed to be President; and such was his preparation to govern the Great Republic, making it an example to mankind! Thus he learned to deal with all questions, domestic and foreign, whether of peace or war, to declare Constitutional Law and International Law, and to administer the vast appointing power, creating Cabinet officers, judges, foreign ministers, and an uncounted army of office-holders!

To these things must be added, that when this soldier first began as civilian he was already forty-six years old. At this mature age, close upon half a century, when habits are irrevocably fixed, when the mind has hardened against what is new, when the character has taken its permanent form, and the whole man is rooted in his own unchangeable individuality, our soldier entered abruptly upon the untried life of a civilian in its most exalted sphere. Do not be surprised, that, like other soldiers, he failed; the wonder would be had he succeeded. There is a French saying, that at forty a man has given his measure. At least his vocation is settled,—how completely is seen, if we suppose the statesman, after traversing the dividing point, abruptly changed to the soldier. And yet at an age nearly seven years later our soldier precipitately changed to the statesman.

This sudden metamorphosis cannot be forgotten, when we seek to comprehend the strange pretensions which ensued. It is easy to see how some very moderate experience in civil life, involving of course the lesson of subordination to republican principles, would have prevented indefensible acts.

TESTIMONY OF THE LATE EDWIN M. STANTON.

Something also must be attributed to individual character. And here I express no opinion of my own; I shall allow another to speak in solemn words echoed from the tomb.

On reaching Washington at the opening of Congress in December, 1869, I was pained to hear that Mr. Stanton, lately Secretary of War, was in failing health. Full of gratitude for his unsurpassed services, and with a sentiment of friendship quickened by common political sympathies, I lost no time in seeing him, and repeated my visits until his death, toward the close of the same month. My last visit was marked by a communication never to be forgotten. As I entered his bedroom, where I found him reclining on a sofa, propped by pillows, he reached out his hand, already clammy cold, and in reply to my inquiry, “How are you?” answered, “Waiting for my furlough.” Then at once, with singular solemnity, he said, “I have something to say to you.” When I was seated, he proceeded without one word of introduction: “I know General Grant better than any other person in the country can know him. It was my duty to study him, and I did so night and day, when I saw him and when I did not see him; and now I tell you what I know: he cannot govern this country.” The intensity of his manner and the positiveness of his judgment surprised me; for, though I was aware that the late Secretary of War did not place the President very high in general capacity, I was not prepared for a judgment so strongly couched. At last, after some delay, occupied in meditating his remarkable words, I observed, “What you say is very broad.” “It is as true as it is broad,” he replied promptly. I added, “You are tardy; you tell this late: why did you not say it before his nomination?” He answered, that he was not consulted about the nomination, and had no opportunity of expressing his opinion upon it, besides being much occupied at the time by his duties as Secretary of War and his contest with the President. I followed by saying, “But you took part in the Presidential election, and made a succession of speeches for him in Ohio and Pennsylvania.” “I spoke,” said he, “but I never introduced the name of General Grant. I spoke for the Republican Party and the Republican cause.” This was the last time I saw Mr. Stanton. A few days later I followed him to the grave where he now rests. As the vagaries of the President became more manifest, and the Presidential office seemed more and more a plaything and perquisite, this dying judgment of the great citizen who knew him so well haunted me constantly, day and night; and I now communicate it to my country, feeling that it is a legacy which I have no right to withhold. Beyond the intrinsic interest from its author, it is not without value as testimony in considering how the President could have been led into that Quixotism of personal pretension which it is my duty to expose.[58]

DUTY TO MAKE EXPOSURE.

Pardon me, if I repeat that it is my duty to make this exposure, spreading before you the proofs of that personal government, which will only pass without censure when it passes without observation. Insisting upon reëlection, the President challenges inquiry and puts himself upon the country. But even if his pressure for reëlection did not menace the tranquillity of the country, it is important that the personal pretensions he has set up should be exposed, that no President hereafter may venture upon such ways, and no Senator presume to defend them. The case is clear as noon.

TWO TYPICAL INSTANCES.

In opening this catalogue I select two typical instances,—Nepotism, and Gift-Taking with repayment by office, each absolutely indefensible in the head of a Republic, most pernicious in example, and showing beyond question that surpassing egotism which changed the Presidential office into a personal instrumentality, not unlike the trunk of an elephant, apt for all things, small as well as great, from provision for a relation to forcing a treaty on a reluctant Senate, or forcing a reëlection on a reluctant people.

NEPOTISM OF THE PRESIDENT.

Between these two typical instances I hesitate which to place foremost: but since the nepotism of the President is a ruling passion, revealing the primary instincts of his nature,—since it is maintained by him in utter unconsciousness of its offensive character,—since, instead of blushing for it as an unhappy mistake, he continues to uphold it,—since it has been openly defended by Senators on this floor,—and since no true patriot anxious for republican institutions can doubt that it ought to be driven with hissing and scorn from all possibility of repetition,—I begin with this undoubted abuse.

There has been no call of Congress for a return of the relations holding office, stipend, or money-making opportunity under the President. The country is left to the press for information on this important subject. If there is any exaggeration, the President is in fault,—since, knowing the discreditable allegations, he has not hastened to furnish the precise facts, or at least his partisans have failed in not calling for the official information. In the mood which they have shown in this Chamber, it is evident that any resolution calling for it, moved by a Senator not known to be for his reëlection, would meet with opposition, and an effort to vindicate republican institutions would be denounced as an assault on the President. But the newspapers have placed enough beyond question for judgment on this extraordinary case, although thus far there has been no attempt to appreciate it, especially in the light of history.

One list makes the number of beneficiaries as many as forty-two, being probably every known person allied to the President by blood or marriage. Persons seeming to speak for the President, or at least after careful inquiries, have denied the accuracy of this list, reducing it to thirteen. It will not be questioned that there is at least a baker’s dozen in this category,—thirteen relations of the President billeted on the country, not one of whom but for this relationship would have been brought forward, the whole constituting a case of nepotism not unworthy of those worst governments where office is a family possession.

Beyond the list of thirteen are other revelations, showing that this strange abuse did not stop with the President’s relations, but that these obtained appointments for others in their circle,—so that every relation became a centre of influence, while the Presidential family extended indefinitely.

Hitherto only one President has appointed relations, and that was John Adams; but he found public opinion, inspired by the example of Washington, so strong against it, that, after a slight experiment, he replied to an applicant, “You know it is impossible for me to appoint my own relations to anything, without drawing forth a torrent of obloquy.”[59] The judgment of the country found voice in Thomas Jefferson, who, in a letter written shortly after he became President, used these strong words: “Mr. Adams degraded himself infinitely by his conduct on this subject.”[60] But John Adams, besides transferring his son John Quincy Adams from one diplomatic post to another, appointed only two relations. Pray, Sir, what words would Jefferson use, if he were here to speak on the open and multifarious nepotism of our President?

ORIGIN AND HISTORY OF NEPOTISM.

The Presidential pretension is so important in every aspect, and the character of republican institutions is so absolutely compromised by its toleration, that it cannot be treated in any perfunctory way. It shall not be my fault, if hereafter there is any doubt with regard to it.

The word “Nepotism” is of Italian origin. First appearing at Rome when the Papal power was at its height, it served to designate the authority and influence exercised by the nephews, or more generally the family, of a Pope: all the family of a Pope were nephews, and the Pope was universal uncle. From Italian the word passed into other European languages, but in the lapse of time or process of naturalization it has come to denote the misconduct of the appointing power, and has amplified so as to embrace others besides Popes who appoint relations to office. Johnson in his Dictionary defines it simply as “Fondness for nephews”; but our latest and best lexicographer, Worcester, supplies a definition more complete and satisfactory: “Favoritism shown to relations; patronage bestowed in consideration of family relationship and not of merit.” Such undoubtedly is the meaning of the word as now received and employed.

The character of this pretension appears in its origin and history. As far back as 1667 this undoubted abuse occupied attention to such a degree that it became the subject of an able historical work, entitled “Il Nipotismo di Roma,” which is full of instruction and warning even for our Republic. In the early days of the Church Popes are described as discarding all relationship, whether of blood or alliance, and inclining to merit alone in their appointments, although there were some with so large a number of nephews, grand-nephews, brothers-in-law, and relations, as to baffle belief; and yet it is recorded that no sooner did the good Pope enter the Vatican, which is the Executive Mansion of Rome, than relations fled, brothers-in-law hid themselves, grand-nephews removed away, and nephews got at a long distance.[61] Such was the early virtue. Nepotism did not exist, and the word itself was unknown.

At last, in 1471, twenty-one years before the discovery of America by Columbus, Sixtus the Fourth became Pope, and with him began that nepotism which soon became famous as a Roman institution.[62] Born in 1414, the son of a fisherman, the eminent founder was already fifty-seven years old, and he reigned thirteen years, bringing to his functions large experience as a successful preacher and as general of the Franciscan friars. Though cradled in poverty, and by the vows of his Order bound to mendicancy, he began at once to heap office and riches upon the various members of his family, so that his conduct, from its barefaced inconsistency with the obligation of his life, excited, according to the historian, “the amazement and wonder of all.”[63] The useful reforms he attempted are forgotten, and this remarkable pontiff is chiefly remembered now as the earliest nepotist. Different degrees of severity are employed by different authors in characterizing this unhappy fame. Bouillet, in his Dictionary of History,[64] having Catholic approbation, describes him as “feeble toward his nephews”; and our own Cyclopædia,[65] in a brief exposition of his character, says “he made himself odious by excessive nepotism.” But in all varieties of expression the offence stands out for judgment.

The immediate successor of Sixtus was Innocent the Eighth, whom the historian describes as “very cold to his relations,”[66] since three only obtained preferment at his hands. But the example of the founder so far prevailed that for a century nepotism, as was said, “lorded it in Rome,”[67] except in a few instances worthy of commemoration and example.

Of these exceptions, the first in time was Julius the Second, founder of St. Peter’s at Rome, whose remarkable countenance is so beautifully preserved by the genius of Rafael. Though the nephew of the nepotist, and not declining to appoint all relations, he did it with such moderation that Rome was said to have been “almost without nepotism” in his time.[68] Adrian the Sixth, early teacher of Charles the Fifth, and successor of Leo the Tenth, set a better example by refusing absolutely; but so accustomed had Rome become to this abuse, that not only the ambassadors, but the people, condemned him as “too rude” with his relations. A son of his cousin, studying in Siena, started for Rome, trusting to obtain important recognition; but the Pope, without seeing him, sent him back on a hired horse. Relations thronged from other places, and even from across the Alps, longing for that greatness which other Popes had lavished on family; but Adrian dismissed them with a slight change of clothing and an allowance of money for the journey: one who from poverty came on foot was permitted to return on foot. This Pope carried abnegation of his family so far as to make relationship an excuse for not rewarding one who had served the Church well.[69] Similar in character was Marcellus the Second, who became Pope in 1555. He was unwilling that any of his family should come to Rome; even his brother was forbidden: but this good example was closed by death, after a reign of twenty days only; and yet this brief period of exemplary virtue has made this pontiff famous. Kindred in spirit was Urban the Seventh, who reigned thirteen days only in 1590, but long enough to repel his relations,—and also Leo the Eleventh, who reigned twenty-five days in 1605. To this list may be added Innocent the Ninth, who died after two months of service. It is related that his death displeased his relations much, and dissolved the air-castles they had built. They had hurried from Bologna, but, except a grand-nephew, all were obliged to return poor as they came.[70] In this list I must not forget Pius the Fifth, who reigned from 1566 to 1572. He set himself so completely against aggrandizing his own family, that he was with difficulty persuaded to make a sister’s son cardinal,—and would not have done it, had not all the cardinals united, on grounds of conscience, against the denial of this dignity to one most worthy of it.[71] Such virtue was part of that elevated character which caused his subsequent canonization.

These good Popes were short-lived,—their reigns for the most part counting by days only; but they opened happy glimpses of an administration where the powers of government were not treated as a personal perquisite. The opposite list had the advantage of time.

Conspicuous among nepotists was Alexander the Sixth, whose family name of Borgia is damned to fame. With him nepotism assumed its most brutal and barbarous development, reflecting the character of its pontifical author, who was without the smallest ray of good. Other Popes were less cruel and bloody, but not less determined in providing for their families. Paul the Third, who was of the great house of Farnese, would have had the estates of the Church a garden for the “lilies” which flourish on the escutcheon of his family.[72] It is related that when Urban the Eighth, who was a Barberini, began his historic reign, all his relations at a distance flew to Rome like the “bees” on the family arms, to suck the honey of the Church, but not leaving behind the sting with which they pricked while they sucked.[73] Whether lilies or bees, it was the same. The latter pontiff gave to nepotism fulness of power when he resolved “to have no business with any one not dependent upon his house.”[74] In the same spirit he excused himself from making a man cardinal because he had “always been the enemy of his nephews.”[75] Although nothing so positive is recorded of Paul the Fifth, who was a Borghese, his nepotism appears in the Roman saying, that, “while serving the Church as a good shepherd, he gave too much wool to his nephews.”[76] These instructive incidents, illustrating the pontifical pretension, reflect light on the history of palaces and galleries at Rome, now admired by the visitor from distant lands. If not created, they were at least enlarged by nepotism.

It does not always appear how many relations a Pope endowed. Often it was all, as in the case of Gregory the Thirteenth, who, besides advancing a nephew actually at Rome, called thither all his nephews and grand-nephews, whether from brothers or sisters, and gave them offices, dignities, governments, lordships, prelacies, and abbacies.[77] Cæsar Borgia and his sister Lucretia were not the only relations of Alexander the Sixth. I do not find the number adopted by Sixtus, the founder of the system. Pius the Fourth, who was of the grasping Medicean family, favored no less than twenty-five.[78] Alexander the Seventh, of the Chigi family, had about him five nephews and one brother, which a contemporary characterized as “nepotism all complete.”[79] This pontiff began his reign by forbidding his relations to appear at Rome, which redounded at once to his credit throughout the Christian world, while the astonished people discoursed of his holiness and the purity of his life, expecting even to see miracles. In making the change, he yielded evidently to immoral pressure and the example of predecessors.

The performances of papal nephews figure in history. After the Borgias were the Caraffas, who obtained power through Paul the Fourth; but at last becoming too insolent and rapacious, their uncle was compelled to strip them of their dignities and drive them from Rome.[80] Sometimes nephews were employed chiefly in ministering to pontifical pleasures, as in the case of Julius the Third, who, according to the historian, “thought of nothing but banqueting with this one and that one, keeping his relations in Rome rather to accompany him at banquets than to aid him in the government of the holy Church, about which he thought little.”[81] This occasion for relations does not exist at Rome now, as the pontiff leads a discreet life, always at home, and never banquets abroad.

These historic instances make us see nepotism in its original seat. Would you know how it was regarded there? Sometimes it was called a hydra with many heads, sprouting anew at the election of a pontiff,[82] then again it was called Ottoman rather than Christian in character.[83] The contemporary historian who has described it so minutely says that those who merely read of it without seeing it will find it difficult to believe or even imagine.[84] The qualities of a Pope’s relation were said to be “ignorance and cunning.”[85] It is easy to believe that this prostitution of the head of the Church was one of the abuses which excited the cry for Reform, and awakened even in Rome the echoes of Martin Luther. A Swedish nobleman visiting Rome is recorded as declaring himself unwilling to be the subject of a pontiff who was himself the subject of his own relations.[86] But even this pretension was not without open defenders, while the general effrontery with which it was maintained assumed that it was above question. If some gave with eyes closed, most gave with eyes open. It was said that Popes were not to neglect their own blood, that they should not show themselves worse than the beasts, not one of which fails to caress its relations; and the case of bears and lions, the most ferocious of all, was cited as authority for this recognition of one’s own blood.[87] All this was soberly said, and it is doubtless true. Not even a Pope can justly neglect his own blood; but help and charity must be at his own expense, and not at the expense of his country. In appointments to office, merit and not blood is the only just recommendation.

That nepotism has ceased to lord itself in Rome, that no pontiff billets his relations upon the Church, that the appointing power of the Pope is treated as a public trust and not as a personal perquisite,—all this is the present testimony with regard to that government which knows from experience the baneful character of this abuse.

AMERICAN AUTHORITIES ON NEPOTISM.

The nepotism of Rome was little known in our country, and I do not doubt that Washington, when declining to make the Presidential office a personal perquisite, was governed by that instinct of duty and patriotism which rendered him so preëminent. Through all the perils of a seven years’ war he had battled with that kingly rule which elevates a whole family without regard to merit, fastening all upon the nation, and he had learned that this royal system could find no place in a republic. Therefore he rejected the claims of relations, and in nothing was his example more beautiful. His latest biographer, Washington Irving, records him as saying:—