STATEMENT.
While I was under trial before the Senate, on articles of impeachment presented by the Senator from Wisconsin, [Mr. Howe,] I forbore taking any part in the debate, even in reply to allegations, asserted to be of decisive importance, touching my relations with the President and Secretary of State. All this was trivial enough; but numerous appeals to me from opposite parts of the country show that good people have been diverted by these allegations from the question of principle involved. Without intending in any way to revive the heats of that debate, I am induced to make a plain statement of facts, so that the precise character of those relations shall be known. I do this with unspeakable reluctance, but in the discharge of a public duty where the claims of patriotism are above even those of self-defence. The Senate and the country have an interest in knowing the truth of this matter, and so also has the Republican party, which cannot be indifferent to pretensions in its name; nor will anything but the completest frankness be proper for the occasion.
In overcoming this reluctance I am aided by Senators who are determined to make me speak. The Senator from Wisconsin, [Mr. Howe,] who appears as prosecuting officer, after alleging these personal relations as the gravamen of accusation against me,—making the issue pointedly on this floor, and actually challenging reply,—not content with the opportunity of this Chamber, hurried to the public press, where he repeated the accusation, and now circulates it, as I am told, under his frank, crediting it in formal terms to the liberal paper in which it appeared, but without allusion to the editorial refutation which accompanied it. On still another occasion, appearing still as prosecuting officer, the same Senator volunteered, out of his own invention, to denounce me as leaving the Republican party,—and this he did, with infinite personality of language and manner, in the very face of my speech to which he was replying, where, in positive words, I declare that I speak “for the sake of the Republican party,” which I hope to save from responsibility for wrongful acts, and then, in other words making the whole assumption of the Senator an impossibility, I announce, that in speaking for the Republican party it is “because from the beginning I have been the faithful servant of that party and aspire to see it strong and triumphant.”[95] In the face of this declared aspiration, in harmony with my whole life, the Senator delivered his attack, and, assuming to be nothing less than Pope, launched against me his bull of excommunication. Then, again playing Pope, he took back his thunder, with the apology that others thought so, and this alleged understanding of others he did not hesitate to set above my positive and contemporaneous language that I aspired to see the Republican party strong and triumphant. Then came the Senator from Ohio, [Mr. Sherman,] who, taking up his vacation pen, added to the articles of impeachment by a supplementary allegation, adopted by the Senator under a misapprehension of facts. Here was another challenge. During all this time I have been silent. Senators have spoken, and then rushed into print; but I have said nothing. They have had their own way with regard to me. It is they who leave me no alternative.
It is alleged that I have no personal relations with the President. Here the answer is easy. I have precisely the relations which he has chosen. On reaching Washington in December last, I was assured from various quarters that the White House was angry with me; and soon afterward the public journals reported the President as saying to a Senator, that, if he were not President, he “would call me to account.” What he meant I never understood, nor would I attribute to him more than he meant; but that he used the language reported I have no doubt, from information independent of the newspapers. I repeat that on this point I have no doubt. The same newspapers reported, also, that a member of the President’s household, enjoying his peculiar confidence, taking great part in the San Domingo scheme, had menaced me with personal violence. I could not believe the story, except on positive, unequivocal testimony. That the menace was made on the condition of his not being an Army officer I do not doubt. The member of the household, when interrogated by my excellent colleague, [Mr. Wilson,] positively denied the menace; but I am assured, on authority above question, that he has since acknowledged it, while the President still retains him in service, and sends him to this Chamber.
During this last session, I have opposed the Presidential policy on an important question,—but always without one word touching motives, or one suggestion of corruption on his part, although I never doubted that there were actors in the business who could claim no such immunity. It now appears that Fabens, who came here as plenipotentiary to press the scheme, has concessions to such amount that the diplomatist is lost in the speculator. I always insisted that the President was no party to any such transaction. I should do injustice to my own feelings, if I did not here declare my regret that I could not agree with the President. I tried to think as he did, but I could not. I listened to the arguments on his side, but in vain. The adverse considerations multiplied with time and reflection. To those who know the motives of my life it is superfluous for me to add that I sought simply the good of my country and Humanity, including especially the good of the African race, to which our country owes so much.
Already there was anger at the White House when the scheme to buy and annex half an island in the Caribbean Sea was pressed upon the Senate in legislative session under the guise of appointing a Commission, and it became my duty to expose it. Here I was constrained to show how, at very large expense, the usurper Baez was maintained in power by the Navy of the United States to enable him to sell his country, while at the same time the independence of the Black Republic was menaced,—all of which was in violation of International Law, and of the Constitution of the United States, which reserves to Congress the power “to declare war.” What I said was in open debate, where the record will speak for me. I hand it over to the most careful scrutiny, knowing that the President can take no just exception to it, unless he insists upon limiting proper debate, and boldly denies the right of a Senator to express himself freely on great acts of wrong. Nor will any Republican Senator admit that the President can impose his own sole will upon the Republican party. Our party is in itself a Republic with universal suffrage, and until a measure is adopted by the party no Republican President can make it a party test.
Much as I am pained in making this statement with regard to the President, infinitely more painful to me is what I must present with regard to the Secretary of State. Here again I remark that I am driven to this explanation. His strange and unnatural conduct toward me, and his prompting of Senators, who, one after another, have set up my alleged relations with him as ground of complaint, make it necessary for me to proceed.
We were sworn as Senators on the same day, as far back as 1851, and from that distant time were friends until the San Domingo business intervened. Nothing could exceed our kindly relations in the past. On the evening of the inauguration of General Grant as President, he was at my house with Mr. Motley in friendly communion, and all uniting in aspirations for the new Administration. Little did Mr. Motley or myself imagine in that social hour that one of our little circle was so soon to turn upon us both.
Shortly afterward Mr. Fish became Secretary of State, and began his responsible duties by appealing to me for help. I need not say that I had pleasure in responding to his call, and that I did what I could most sincerely and conscientiously to aid him. Of much, from his arrival down to his alienation on the San Domingo business, I possess the written record. For some time he showed a sympathy with the scheme almost as little as my own. But as the President grew in earnestness the Secretary yielded, until tardily he became its attorney. Repeatedly he came to my house, pleading for the scheme. Again and again he urged it, sometimes at my house and sometimes at his own. I was astonished that he could do so, and expressed my astonishment with the frankness of old friendship. For apology he announced that he was the President’s friend, and took office as such. “But,” said I, “you should resign rather than do this thing.” This I could not refrain from remarking, on discovery, from dispatches in the State Department, that the usurper Baez was maintained in power by our Navy. This plain act of wrong required instant redress; but the Secretary astonished me again by his insensibility to my appeal for justice. He maintained the President, as the President maintained Baez. I confess that I was troubled.
At last, some time in June, 1870, a few weeks before the San Domingo treaty was finally rejected by the Senate, the Secretary came to my house about nine o’clock in the evening and remained till after the clock struck midnight, the whole protracted visit being occupied in earnest and reiterated appeal that I should cease my opposition to the Presidential scheme; and here he urged that the election which made General Grant President had been carried by him, and not by the Republican party, so that his desires were entitled to especial attention. In his pressure on me he complained that I had opposed other projects of the President. In reply to my inquiry, he named the repeal of the Tenure-of-Office Act, and the nomination of Mr. Jones as Minister to Brussels, both of which the President had much at heart, and he concluded with the San Domingo treaty. I assured the Secretary firmly and simply, that, seeing the latter as I did with all its surroundings, my duty was plain, and that I must continue to oppose it so long as it appeared to me wrong. He was not satisfied, and renewed his pressure in various forms, returning to the point again and again with persevering assiduity that would not be arrested, when at last, finding me inflexible, he changed his appeal, saying, “Why not go to London? I offer you the English mission. It is yours.” Of his authority from the President I know nothing. I speak only of what he said. My astonishment was heightened by indignation at this too palpable attempt to take me from my post of duty; but I suppressed the feeling which rose to the lips, and, reflecting that he was an old friend and in my own house, answered gently, “We have a Minister there who cannot be bettered.” Thus already did the mission to London begin to pivot on San Domingo.
I make this revelation only because it is important to a correct understanding of the case, and because the conversation from beginning to end was official in character, relating exclusively to public business, without suggestion or allusion of a personal nature, and absolutely without the slightest word on my part leading in the most remote degree to any such overture, which was unexpected as undesired. The offer of the Secretary was in no respect a compliment or kindness, but in the strict line of his endeavor to silence my opposition to the San Domingo scheme, as is too apparent from the facts, while it was plain, positive, and unequivocal, making its object and import beyond question. Had it been merely an inquiry, it were bad enough, under the circumstances; but it was direct and complete, as by a plenipotentiary.
Shortly afterward, being the day immediately following the rejection of the San Domingo treaty, Mr. Motley was summarily removed,—according to present pretence, for an offending not only trivial and formal, but condoned by time, being a year old: very much as Sir Walter Raleigh, after being released from the Tower to conduct a distant expedition as admiral of the fleet, was at his return beheaded on a judgment of fifteen years’ standing. The Secretary, in conversation and in correspondence with me, undertook to explain the removal, insisting for a long time that he was “the friend of Mr. Motley”; but he always made the matter worse, while the heats of San Domingo entered into the discussion.
At last, in January, 1871, a formal paper justifying the removal and signed by the Secretary was laid before the Senate.[96] Glancing at this document, I found, to my surprise, that its most salient characteristic was constant vindictiveness toward Mr. Motley, with effort to wound his feelings; and this was signed by one who had sat with him at my house in friendly communion and common aspiration on the evening of the inauguration of General Grant, and had so often insisted that he was “the friend of Mr. Motley,”—while, as if it was not enough to insult one Massachusetts citizen in the public service, the same document, after a succession of flings and sneers, makes a kindred assault on me; and this is signed by one who so constantly called me “friend,” and asked me for help. The Senator from Missouri [Mr. Schurz] has already directed attention to this assault, and has expressed his judgment upon it,—confessing that he “should not have failed to feel the insult,” and then exclaiming, with just indignation, “When such things are launched against any member of this body, it becomes the American Senate to stand by him, and not to attempt to disgrace and to degrade him because he shows the sensitiveness of a gentleman.”[97] It is easy to see how this Senator regarded the conduct of the Secretary. Nor is its true character open to doubt, especially when we consider the context, and how this full-blown personality naturally flowered out of the whole document.
Mr. Motley, in his valedictory to the State Department, had alluded to the rumor that he was removed on account of my opposition to the San Domingo treaty. The document signed by the Secretary, while mingling most offensive terms with regard to his “friend” in London, thus turns upon his “friend” in Washington:—
“It remains only to notice Mr. Motley’s adoption of a rumor which had its origin in this city in a source bitterly, personally, and vindictively hostile to the President.
“Mr. Motley says it has been rumored that he was ‘removed from the post of Minister to England’ on account of the opposition made by an ‘eminent Senator, who honors me [him] with his friendship,’ to the San Domingo treaty.
“Men are apt to attribute the causes of their own failures or their own misfortunes to others than themselves, and to claim association or seek a partnership with real or imaginary greatness with which to divide their sorrows or their mistakes. There can be no question as to the identity of the eminent Senator at whose door Mr. Motley is willing to deposit the cause of his removal. But he is entirely mistaken in seeking a vicarious cause of his loss in confidence and favor; and it is unworthy of Mr. Motley’s real merit and ability, and an injustice to the venerable Senator alluded to, (to whose influence and urgency he was originally indebted for his nomination,) to attribute to him any share in the cause of his removal.
“Mr. Motley must know, or, if he does not know it, he stands alone in his ignorance of the fact, that many Senators opposed the San Domingo treaty openly, generously, and with as much efficiency as did the distinguished Senator to whom he refers, and have nevertheless continued to enjoy the undiminished confidence and the friendship of the President,—than whom no man living is more tolerant of honest and manly differences of opinion, is more single or sincere in his desire for the public welfare, is more disinterested or regardless of what concerns himself, is more frank and confiding in his own dealings, is more sensitive to a betrayal of confidence, or would look with more scorn and contempt upon one who uses the words and the assurances of friendship to cover a secret and determined purpose of hostility.”[98]
The eulogy of the President here is at least singular, when it is considered that every dispatch of the Secretary of State is by order of the President; but it is evident that the writer of this dispatch had made up his mind to set all rule at defiance. If, beyond paying court to the President, even at the expense of making him praise himself, the concluding sentence of this elaborate passage, so full of gall from beginning to end, had any object, if it were anything but a mountain of words, it was an open attempt to make an official document the vehicle of personal insult to me; and this personal insult was signed “Hamilton Fish.” As I became aware of it, and found also that it was regarded by others in the same light, I was distressed and perplexed. I could not comprehend it. I knew not why the Secretary should step so far out of his way, in a manner absolutely without precedent, to treat me with ostentatious indignity,—especially when I thought that for years I had been his friend, that I had never spoken of him except with kindness, and that constantly since assuming his present duties he had turned to me for help. This was more incomprehensible when I considered how utterly groundless were all his imputations. I have lived in vain, if such an attempt on me can fail to rebound on its author.
Not lightly would I judge an ancient friend. For a time I said nothing to anybody of the outrage, hoping that perhaps the Secretary would open his eyes to the true character of the document he had signed and volunteer some friendly explanation. Meanwhile a proposition to resume negotiations was received from England, and the Secretary, it seems, desired to confer with me on the subject; but there was evident consciousness on his part that he had done wrong,—for, instead of coming to me at once, he sent for Mr. Patterson, of the Senate, and, telling him that he wished to confer with me, added, that he did not know precisely what were his relations with me and how I should receive him. Within a brief fortnight I had been in conference with him at the State Department and had dined at his house, besides about the same time making a call there. Yet he was in doubt about his relations with me. Plainly because, since the conference, the dinner, and the call, the document signed by him had been communicated to the Senate, and the conscience-struck Secretary did not know how I should take it. Mr. Patterson asked me what he should report. I replied, that, should the Secretary come to my house, he would be received as an old friend, and that at any time I should be at his service for consultation on public business, but that I could not conceal my deep sense of personal wrong received from him absolutely without reason or excuse. That this message was communicated by Mr. Patterson I cannot doubt,—for the Secretary came to my house, and there was a free conference. How frankly I spoke on public questions, without one word on other things, the Secretary knows. He will remember if any inquiry, remark, or allusion escaped from me, except in reference to public business. The interview was of business and nothing else.
On careful reflection, it seemed to me plain, that, while meeting the Secretary officially, it would not be consistent with self-respect for me to continue personal relations with one who had put his name to a document, which, after protracted fury toward another, contained a studied insult to me, where the fury was intensified rather than tempered by too obvious premeditation. Public business must not suffer, but in such a case personal relations naturally cease; and this rule I have followed since. Is there any Senator who would have done less? Are there not many who would have done more? I am at a loss to understand how the Secretary could expect anything beyond those official relations which I declared my readiness at all times to maintain, and which, even after his assault on me, he was willing to seek at my own house. To expect more shows on his part grievous insensibility to the thing he had done. Whatever one signs he makes his own; and the Secretary, when he signed this document, adopted a libel upon his friend, and when he communicated it to the Senate he published the libel. Nothing like it can be shown in the history of our Government. It stands alone. The Secretary is alone. Like Jean Paul in German literature, his just title will be “The Only One.” For years I have known Secretaries of State and often differed from them, but never before did I receive from one anything but kindness. Never before did a Secretary of State sign a document libelling an associate in the public service, and publish it to the world. Never before did a Secretary of State so entirely set at defiance every sentiment of friendship. It is impossible to explain this strange aberration, except from the disturbing influence of San Domingo. But whatever its origin, its true character is beyond question.
As nothing like this state-paper can be shown in the history of our Government, so also nothing like it can be shown in the history of other Governments. Not an instance can be named in any country, where a personage in corresponding official position has done such a thing. The American Secretary is alone, not only in his own country, but in all countries; “none but himself can be his parallel.” Seneca, in the “Hercules Furens,” has pictured him:—
“Quæris Alcidæ parem?
Nemo est, nisi ipse.”
He is originator and first inventor, with all prerogatives and responsibilities thereto belonging.
I have mentioned only one sally in this painful document; but the whole, besides its prevailing offensiveness, shows inconsistency with actual facts of my own knowledge, which is in entire harmony with the recklessness toward me, and attests the same spirit throughout. Thus, we have the positive allegation that the death of Lord Clarendon, June 27, 1870, “determined the time for inviting Mr. Motley to make place for a successor,”[99] when, in point of fact, some time before his Lordship’s illness even, the Secretary had invited me to go to London as Mr. Motley’s successor,—thus showing that the explanation of Lord Clarendon’s death was an after-thought, when it became important to divert attention from the obvious dependence of the removal upon the defeat of the San Domingo treaty.
A kindred inconsistency arrested the attention of the London “Times,” in its article of January 24, 1871, on the document signed by the Secretary. Here, according to this journal, the document supplied the means of correction, since it set forth that on the 25th June, two days before Lord Clarendon’s death, Mr. Motley’s coming removal was announced in a London journal. After stating the alleged dependence of the removal upon the death of Lord Clarendon, the journal, holding the scales, remarks: “And yet there is at least one circumstance, appearing, strange to say, in Mr. Fish’s own dispatch, which is not quite consistent with the explanation he sets up of Mr. Motley’s recall.” Then, after quoting from the document, and mentioning that its own correspondent at Philadelphia did on the 25th June “send us a message that Mr. Motley was about to be withdrawn,” the journal mildly concludes, that, “as this was two days before Lord Clarendon’s death, which was unforeseen here and could not have been expected in the States, it is difficult to connect the resolution to supersede the late American Minister with the change at our Foreign Office.” The difficulty of the “Times” is increased by the earlier incident with regard to myself.
Not content with making the removal depend upon the death of Lord Clarendon, when it was heralded abroad not only before the death of this minister had occurred, but while it was yet unforeseen, the document seeks to antedate the defeat of the San Domingo treaty, so as to interpose “weeks and months” between the latter event and the removal. The language is explicit. “The treaty,” says the document, “was admitted to be practically dead, and was waiting only the formal action of the Senate, for weeks and months before the decease of the illustrious statesman of Great Britain.”[100] Weeks and months! And yet during the last month, when the treaty “was admitted to be practically dead,” the Secretary who signed the document passed three hours at my house, pleading with me to withdraw my opposition, and finally wound up by tender to me of the English mission, with no other apparent object than simply to get me out of the way.
Then again we have the positive allegation that the President embraced an opportunity “to prevent any further misapprehension of his views through Mr. Motley by taking from him the right to discuss further the ‘Alabama claims’”;[101] whereas the Secretary in a letter to me at Boston, dated at Washington, October 9, 1869, informs me that the discussion of the question was withdrawn from London “because” (the Italics are the Secretary’s) “we think, that, when renewed, it can be carried on here with a better prospect of settlement than where the late attempt at a convention which resulted so disastrously and was conducted so strangely was had”; and what the Secretary thus wrote he repeated in conversation when we met, carefully making the transfer to Washington depend upon our advantage here from the presence of the Senate: thus showing that the pretext put forth to wound Mr. Motley was an after-thought.
Still further, the document signed by the Secretary alleges, by way of excuse for removing Mr. Motley, the “important public consideration of having a representative in sympathy with the President’s views”;[102] whereas, when the Secretary tendered the mission to me, no allusion was made to “sympathy with the President’s views,” while Mr. Motley, it appears, was charged with agreeing too much with me: all of which shows how little this matter had to do with the removal, and how much the San Domingo business at the time was above any question of conformity on other things.
In the amiable passage already quoted[103] there is a parenthesis which breathes the prevailing spirit. By way of aspersion on Mr. Motley and myself, the country is informed that he was indebted for his nomination to “influence and urgency” on my part. Of the influence I know nothing; but I deny positively any “urgency.” I spoke with the President on this subject once casually on the stairs of the Executive Mansion, and then again in a formal interview. And here, since the effort of the Secretary, I shall frankly state what I said and how it was introduced. I began by remarking, that, with the permission of the President, I should venture to suggest the expediency of continuing Mr. Marsh in Italy, Mr. Morris at Constantinople, and Mr. Bancroft at Berlin, as all these exerted a peculiar influence and did honor to our country. To this list I proposed to add Dr. Howe in Greece, believing that he, too, would do honor to our country, and also Mr. Motley in London, who, I suggested, would have an influence there beyond his official position. The President said that nobody should be sent to London who was not “right” on the Claims question, and he kindly explained to me what he meant by “right.” From this time I had no conversation with him about Mr. Motley, until after the latter had left for his post, when the President volunteered to express his great satisfaction in the appointment. Such was the extent of my “urgency.” Nor was I much in advance of the Secretary at that time; for he showed me what was called the “brief” at the State Department for the English mission, with Mr. Motley’s name at the head of the list.
Other allusions to myself would be cheerfully forgotten, if they were not made the pretext to assail Mr. Motley, who is held to severe account for supposed dependence on me. If this were crime, not the Minister, but the Secretary, should suffer; for it is the Secretary, and not the Minister, who appealed to me constantly for help, often desiring me to think for him, and more than once to hold the pen for him. But, forgetting his own relations with me, the Secretary turns upon Mr. Motley, who never asked me to think for him or to hold the pen for him. Other things the Secretary also forgot. He forgot that the blow he dealt, whether at Mr. Motley or myself, rudely tore the veil from the past, so far as its testimony might be needed in elucidation of the truth; that the document he signed was a challenge and provocation to meet him on the facts without reserve or concealment; that the wantonness of assault on Mr. Motley was so closely associated with that on me, that any explanation I might make must be a defence of him; that, even if duty to the Senate and myself did not require this explanation, there are other duties not to be disregarded, among which is duty to the absent, who cannot be permitted to suffer unjustly,—duty to a much-injured citizen of Massachusetts, who may properly look to a Senator of his State for protection against official wrong,—duty also to a public servant insulted beyond precedent, who, besides writing and speaking most effectively for the Republican party and for this Administration, has added to the renown of our country by unsurpassed success in literature, commending him to the gratitude and good-will of all. These things the Secretary strangely forgot, when he dealt the blow which tore the veil.
The crime of the Minister was dependence on me: so says the state-paper. A simple narrative will show who is the criminal. My early relations with the Secretary have already appeared, and how he began by asking me for help, practising constantly on this appeal. A few details will be enough. At once on his arrival to assume his new duties, he asked my counsel about appointing Mr. Bancroft Davis Assistant Secretary of State, and I advised the appointment,—without sufficient knowledge, I am inclined to believe now. Then followed the questions with Spain growing out of Cuba, which were the subject of constant conference, where he sought me repeatedly and kindly listened to my opinions. Then came the instructions for the English mission, known as the dispatch of May 15, 1869. At each stage of these instructions I was in the counsels of the Secretary. Following my suggestion, he authorized me to invite Mr. Motley in his name to prepare the “memoir” or essay on our claims, which, notwithstanding its entirely confidential character, he drags before the world, for purpose of assault, in a manner clearly unjustifiable. Then, as the dispatch was preparing, he asked my help especially in that part relating to the concession of belligerent rights. I have here the first draught of this important passage in pencil and in my own handwriting, varying in no essential respect from that adopted. Here will be found the distinction on which I have always insisted,—that, while other powers conceded belligerent rights to our Rebels, it was in England only that the concession was supplemented by acts causing direct damage to the United States. Not long afterward, in August, 1869, when the British storm had subsided, I advised that the discussion should be renewed by an elaborate communication, setting forth our case in length and breadth, but without any estimate of damages,—throwing upon England the opportunity, if not the duty, of making some practical proposition. Adopting this recommendation, the Secretary invited me to write the dispatch. I thought it better that it should be done by another, and I named for this purpose an accomplished gentleman whom I knew to be familiar with the question, and he wrote the dispatch. This paper, bearing date September 25, 1869, is unquestionably the ablest in the history of the present Administration, unless we except the last dispatch of Mr. Motley.
In a letter dated at Washington, October 15, 1869, and addressed to me at Boston, the Secretary describes this paper in the following terms:—
“The dispatch to Motley (which I learn by a telegram from him has been received) is a calm, full review of our entire case, making no demand, no valuation of damages, but I believe covering all the ground and all the points that have been made on our side. I hope that it will meet your views. I think it will. It leaves the question with Great Britain to determine when any negotiations are to be renewed.”
The Secretary was right in his description. It was a “full review of our entire case,” “covering all the ground and all the points”; and it did meet my views, as the Secretary thought it would, especially where it arraigned so strongly that fatal concession of belligerent rights on the ocean, which in any faithful presentment of the national cause will always be the first stage of evidence,—since, without this precipitate and voluntary act, the Common Law of England was a positive protection against the equipment of a corsair ship, or even the supply of a blockade-runner for unacknowledged rebels. The conformity of this dispatch with my views was recognized by others besides the Secretary. It is well known that Lord Clarendon did not hesitate in familiar conversation to speak of it as “Mr. Sumner’s speech over again”; while another English personage said that “it out-Sumnered Sumner.” And yet, with his name signed to this dispatch, written at my suggestion, and in entire conformity with my views, as admitted by him and recognized by the English Government, the Secretary taunts Mr. Motley for supposed harmony with me on this very question. This taunt is still more unnatural when it is known that this dispatch is in similar conformity with the “memoir” of Mr. Motley, and was evidently written with knowledge of that admirable document, where the case of our country is stated with perfect mastery. But the story does not end here.
On the communication of this dispatch to the British Government, Mr. Thornton was instructed to ascertain what would be accepted by our Government, when the Secretary, under date of Washington, November 6, 1869, reported to me this application, and then, after expressing unwillingness to act on it until he “could have an opportunity of consulting” me, he wrote, “When will you be here? Will you either note what you think will be sufficient to meet the views of the Senate and of the country, or will you formulate such proposition?” After this responsible commission, the letter winds up with the earnest request, “Let me hear from you as soon as you can,” (the Italics are the Secretary’s,) “and I should like to confer with you at the earliest convenient time.” On my arrival at Washington, the Secretary came to my house at once, and we conferred freely. San Domingo had not yet sent its shadow into his soul.
It is easily seen that here was constant and reiterated appeal to me, especially on our negotiations with England; and yet, in the face of this testimony, where he is the unimpeachable witness, the Secretary is pleased to make Mr. Motley’s supposed relations with me the occasion of insult to him, while, as if this were not enough, he crowns his work with personal assault on me,—all of which, whether as regards Mr. Motley or me, is beyond comprehension.
How little Mr. Motley merited anything but respect and courtesy from the Secretary is attested by all who know his eminent position in London, and the service he rendered to his country. Already the London press, usually slow to praise Americans when strenuous for their country, has furnished its voluntary testimony. The “Daily News” of August 16, 1870, spoke of the insulted Minister in these terms:—
“We are violating no confidence in saying that all the hopes and promises of Mr. Motley’s official residence in England have been amply fulfilled, and that the announcement of his unexpected and unexplained recall was received with extreme astonishment and unfeigned regret. The vacancy he leaves cannot possibly be filled by a Minister more sensitive to the honor of his Government, more attentive to the interests of his country, and more capable of uniting the most rigorous performance of his public duties with the high-bred courtesy and the conciliatory tact and temper that make those duties easy and successful. Mr. Motley’s successor will find his mission wonderfully facilitated by the firmness and discretion that have presided over the conduct of American affairs in this country during too brief a term, too suddenly and unaccountably concluded.”
The London press had not the key to this extraordinary transaction. It knew not the potency of the San Domingo spell, nor its strange influence over the Secretary, even breeding insensibility to instinctive amenities, and awakening peculiar unfriendliness to Mr. Motley, so amply certified afterward in an official document under his own hand,—all of which burst forth with more than the tropical luxuriance of the much-coveted island.
I cannot disguise the sorrow with which I offer this explanation. In self-defence and for the sake of truth do I now speak. I have cultivated forbearance, and hoped from the bottom of my heart that I might do so to the end. But beyond the call of the public press has been the defiant challenge of Senators, and also the consideration sometimes presented by friends, that my silence might be misinterpreted. Tardily and most reluctantly I make this record, believing it more a duty to the Senate than to myself, but a plain duty, to be performed in all simplicity without reserve. Having nothing to conceal, and willing always to be judged by the truth, I court the fullest inquiry, and shrink from no conclusion founded on an accurate knowledge of the case.
If this narration enables any one to see in clearer light the injustice done to Mr. Motley, then have I performed a further duty too long postponed; nor will it be doubted by any honest nature, that, since the assault of the Secretary, he was entitled to that vindication which is found in a statement of facts within my own knowledge. Anything short of this would be a license to the Secretary in his new style of state-paper, which, for the sake of the public service and of good-will among men, must be required to stand alone, in the isolation which becomes its abnormal character. Plainly without precedent in the past, it must be without chance of repetition in the future.
Here I stop. My present duty is performed when I set forth the simple facts, exhibiting those personal relations which have been drawn in question, without touching the questions of principle behind.
THE KU-KLUX-KLAN.
Speech in the Senate, on the Bill to enforce the Provisions of the Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution, April 13, 1871.
MR. PRESIDENT,—The questions presented in this debate have been of fact and of Constitutional Law. It is insisted on one side that a condition of things exists in certain States affecting life, liberty, property, and the enjoyment of Equal Rights, which can be corrected only by the national arm. On the other side this statement is controverted, and it is argued also that such intervention is inconsistent with the Constitution of the United States. On both questions, whether of fact or law, I cannot hesitate. To my mind, outrages are proved, fearful in character; nor can I doubt the power under the Constitution to apply the remedy.
The evidence is cumulative. Ruffians in paint and in disguise seize the innocent, insult them, rob them, murder them. Communities are kept under this terrible shadow. And this terror falls especially upon those who have stood by the Union in its bloody trial, and those others of different color who have just been admitted to the blessings of Freedom. To both of these classes is our nation bound by every obligation of public faith. We cannot see them sacrificed without apostasy. If the power to protect them fails, then is the National Constitution a failure.
I do not set forth the evidence, for this has been amply done by others, and to repeat it would be only to occupy time and to darken the hour. The Report of the Committee, at least as regards one State,[104] the testimony of the public press, the stories of violence with which the air is laden, and private letters with their painful narrations,—all these unite, leaving no doubt as to the harrowing condition of things in certain States lately in rebellion,—not the same in all these States or in all parts of a State, but such as to show in many States the social fabric menaced, disturbed, imperilled in its very foundations, while life, liberty, property, and the enjoyment of Equal Rights are without that security which is the first condition of civilization. This is the case simply stated. If such things can be without a remedy, applied, if need be, by the national arm, then are we little more than a bundle of sticks, but not a nation. Believing that we are a nation, I cannot doubt the power and the duty of the National Government. Thus on general grounds do I approach the true conclusion.
So long as Slavery endured a State was allowed to play the turtle, and, sheltered within its shell, to escape the application of those master principles which are truly national. The Declaration of Independence with its immortal truths was in abeyance; the Constitution itself was interpreted always in support of Slavery. I never doubted that this interpretation was wrong,—not even in the days of Slavery; but it is doubly, triply wrong now that the Declaration of Independence is at last regarded, and that the Constitution not only makes Slavery impossible, but assures the citizen in the enjoyment of Equal Rights. I do not quote these texts, whether of the Declaration or the Constitution. You know them by heart. But they are not vain words. Vital in themselves, they are armed with all needful powers to carry them into execution. As in other days Slavery gave its character to the Constitution, filling it with its own denial of Equal Rights, and compelling the National Government to be its instrument, so now do I insist that Liberty must give its character to the Constitution, filling it with life-giving presence, and compelling the National Government to be its instrument. Once the Nation served Slavery, and in this service ministered to State Rights; now it must serve Liberty with kindred devotion, even to the denial of State Rights. All this I insist is plain, according to rules of interpretation simple and commanding.
In other days, while the sinister influence prevailed, the States were surrounded by a Chinese wall so broad that horsemen and chariots could travel upon it abreast; but that wall has now been beaten down, and the citizen everywhere is under the protection of the same Equal Laws, not only without distinction of color, but also without distinction of State.
What makes us a Nation? Not armies, not fleets, not fortifications, not commerce reaching every shore abroad, not industry filling every vein at home, not population thronging the highways; none of these make our Nation. The national life of this Republic is found in the principle of Unity, and in the Equal Rights of all our people,—all of which, being national in character, are necessarily placed under the great safeguard of the Nation. Let the National Unity be assailed, and the Nation will spring to its defence. Let the humblest citizen in the remotest village be assailed in the enjoyment of Equal Rights, and the Nation must do for that humblest citizen what it would do for itself. And this is only according to the original promises of the Declaration of Independence, and the more recent promises of the Constitutional Amendments, the two concurring in the same national principles.
Do you question the binding character of the Great Declaration? Then do I invoke the Constitutional Amendments. But you cannot turn from either; and each establishes beyond question the boundaries of national power, making it coextensive with the National Unity and the Equal Rights of All, originally declared and subsequently assured. Whatever is announced in the Declaration is essentially National, and so also is all that is assured. The principles of the Declaration, reinforced by the Constitutional Amendments, cannot be allowed to suffer. Being common to all, they must be under the safeguard of all. Nor can any State set up its local system against the universal law. Equality implies universality; and what is universal must be national. If each State is left to determine the protection of Equal Rights, then will protection vary according to the State, and Equal Rights will prevail only according to the accident of local law. There will be as many equalities as States. Therefore, in obedience to reason, as well as solemn mandate, is this power in the Nation.
Nor am I deterred from this conclusion by any cry of Centralism, or it may be of Imperialism. These are terms borrowed from France, where this abuse has become a tyranny, subjecting the most distant communities, even in the details of administration, to central control. Mark, if you please, the distinction. But no such tyranny is proposed among us,—nor any interference of any kind with matters local in character. The Nation will not enter the State, except for the safeguard of rights national in character, and then only as the sunshine, with beneficent power, and, like the sunshine, for the equal good of all. As well assail the sun because it is central, because it is imperial. Here is a just centralism; here is a generous imperialism. Shunning with patriotic care that injurious centralism and that fatal imperialism which have been the Nemesis of France, I hail that other centralism which supplies an equal protection to every citizen, and that other imperialism which makes Equal Rights the supreme law, to be maintained by the national arm in all parts of the land. Centralism! Imperialism! Give me the centralism of Liberty! Give me the imperialism of Equal Rights! And may this National Capitol, where we are now assembled, be the emblem of our Nation! Planted on a hill-top, with portals opening North and South, East and West, with spacious chambers, and with arching dome crowned by the image of Liberty,—such is our imperial Republic; but in nothing is it so truly imperial as in that beneficent Sovereignty which rises like a dome crowned by the image of Liberty.
Nor am I deterred by any party cry. The Republican party must do its work, which is nothing less than the regeneration of the Nation according to the promises of the Declaration of Independence. To maintain the Republic in its unity, and the people in their rights,—such is this transcendent duty. Nor do I fear any political party which assails these sacred promises, even if it falsely assume the name of Democrat. How powerless their efforts against these immortal principles! For myself, I know no better service than that which I now announce. Here have I labored steadfastly from early life, bearing obloquy and enmity; and here again I pledge the energies which remain to me, even if obloquy and enmity survive.
OUR DUTY AGAINST WRONG.
Letter to the Reform League, New York, May 8, 1871.
This was read by the President of the League at its first anniversary in Steinway Hall, and reported in the papers.
Washington, May 8, 1871.
MY DEAR SIR,—It is not in my power to be at your meeting; but when I think that it will be held on the anniversary of the good old Antislavery Society, which was always so apostolic, I pay homage to the day, and thanks to you for remembering me among its friends.
Happily, Slavery is abolished; but, alas! wrong is not banished from the earth, nor has it ceased to be organized in human institutions, or to be maintained by governments.
In considering the question of San Domingo, I am sure you will not forget our duty to the Haytian people, counting by the hundred thousand, who now seek peace with the rest of the island, and would gladly accept our good offices. “Blessed are the peacemakers!” Here is our opportunity to obtain this blessing; but we must begin by stopping our war-dance about the island, kept up at immense cost for more than a year.
Faithfully yours,
Charles Sumner.
A. W. Powell, Esq.
POWER OF THE SENATE TO IMPRISON RECUSANT WITNESSES.
Speeches in the Senate, May 18 and 27, 1871.
May 18, 1871, Z. L. White and H. J. Ramsdell, newspaper correspondents, having been taken into custody by order of the Senate, for refusing to disclose, on the requisition of a committee appointed to investigate the matter, the source whence a copy of the Treaty of Washington had been obtained which they had communicated for publication while under consideration in Executive Session, and Mr. White, whose case was first presented, on arraignment at the bar of the Senate persisting in his refusal, a resolution was thereupon offered for his commitment to the common jail until he should answer. Mr. Sumner immediately moved an amendment substituting for the common jail the custody of the Sergeant-at-Arms, remarking;—
In support of that amendment I will say that the only precedent we have in our history known to me for this case is that of Nugent,[105] and he was committed to the custody of the Sergeant-at-Arms. It appears from the newspapers of the time that there was a perpetual menace, as the excitement increased, that the custody should be changed to the common jail; but it does not appear that it was so changed. He continued for some two months in the custody of the Sergeant-at-Arms. We all know, also, that after the Impeachment Trial a witness was taken into custody; but it was simply the custody of the Sergeant-at-Arms of the House.[106]
There is one other precedent to which I ought to allude, and it will be for the Senate to say whether they will follow it. It is the resolution of the Senate in the spring of 1860, on the motion of Mr. Mason, chairman of the committee raised especially to persecute the supposed associates of John Brown, and taking one of them into custody, bringing him into this Chamber, propounding to him certain interrogatories which he refused to answer. Mr. Mason finally brought forward a resolution that he should be committed to the common jail.[107] That, Sir, is the precedent which it is now proposed to follow. The Senate will consider whether they will follow the lead of Mr. Mason, author of the Fugitive Slave Bill, Chairman of the Harper’s Ferry Investigating Committee, and afterward a Rebel, in committing a citizen to the common jail, or whether they will follow the better precedent of the Senate at a better day and under better auspices.
On this motion I ask for the yeas and nays.
The yeas and nays were ordered, with the result, for the amendment, Yeas 31, Nays 27.
A second resolution, containing a provision for the continuance of the Committee, with a view to holding the witness in custody after the close of the session until he should answer as required, which Mr. Sumner denounced as contrary to all parliamentary precedent, prevailed against a motion to strike out this part by Yeas 20, Nays 30.
Corresponding resolutions were subsequently adopted in the case of Mr. Ramsdell, who had likewise persisted in refusing to answer.
May 27th, on a resolution submitted by Mr. Wilson, of Massachusetts, for the discharge of these persons from custody “immediately upon the final adjournment of the session,” Mr. Sumner spoke as follows:—
Mr. President,—This question is important, primarily, as it concerns the liberty of the citizen; but it is made important also by the attempt, to which we have just listened, to establish for the Senate a prerogative which on history and precedent does not belong to it.
Some days ago I took the ground, which I shall take to-day, that on the close of the session of the Senate any imprisonment founded on its order must cease. Of that conclusion, whether on history or law, I have not the least doubt. I have listened to the argument of the Senator from New York, [Mr. Conkling,] and to his comment upon the authorities adduced. The answer, to my mind, is obvious. It will be found simply in stating one of those authorities and calling attention to its precise language. The Senator from Ohio [Mr. Sherman] has already presented to-day what I had the honor of quoting on the first day of this discussion, the authoritative words of May in his work on Parliamentary Law, and also the solemn judgment of Lord Denman, Chief-Justice of England. May says, speaking of prisoners committed by order of the House of Commons, that they
“are immediately released from their confinement on a prorogation, whether they have paid the fees or not. If they were held longer in custody, they would be discharged by the courts, upon a writ of Habeas Corpus.”[108]
This statement, coming as it does from the well-known Clerk of the House of Commons, as familiar with the usages of that body as any living man, is of itself authority. But he adduces the weighty words of Lord Denman in the most remarkable case of privilege that has ever occurred in English history, being that of Stockdale and Hansard, which, it is well known, was discussed day by day in Parliament, week by week in Westminster Hall. I have before me the opinions of all the judges on that case, but the words that are particularly pertinent now are quoted by May as follows:—
“However flagrant the contempt, the House of Commons can only commit till the close of the existing session,”—
Mark, Sir, if you please, how positive he is in his language,—
“can only commit till the close of the existing session. Their privilege to commit is not better known than this limitation of it. Though the party should deserve the severest penalties, yet, his offence being committed the day before a prorogation, if the House ordered his imprisonment but for a week, every court in Westminster Hall and every judge of all the courts would be bound to discharge him by Habeas Corpus.”[109]
These were the words of the Lord Chief-Justice of England in a most memorable case as late as 1839. This is no ancient authority, but something modern and of our day. It is not expressed in vague or uncertain terms, but in language clear and positive. It is as applicable to the Senate of the United States as to the House of Commons. It is applicable to every legislative body sitting under a constitutional government.
An attempt has been made to claim for the Senate prerogatives which belong to the House of Lords. How so? Is the Senate a House of Lords? Is it an hereditary body? Is it a perpetual body in the sense that the House of Lords is a perpetual body? We know that the House of Lords is in session the whole year round. We know, that, according to a rule of the Civil Law, “Tres faciunt collegium,”[110] three make a quorum in the House of Lords. So that the presence of three peers at any time, duly summoned to the chamber, constitutes a sufficient quorum for business. Therefore the House of Lords has in it an essential element enabling it to come together easily and to continue in perpetual session. It is in its character, in the elements of its privileges, clearly distinguishable from the Senate, as it is clearly distinguishable from the House of Commons. Such privileges as the Senate has are derived from the House of Commons rather than from the House of Lords, so far as they are derived from either of these bodies.
Another attempt has been made, by criticizing the word “prorogation,” to find a distinction between the two cases; but a note to May’s work on Parliamentary Law, which I now have in my hand, meets that criticism. After saying in the text that the prisoners committed by the House of Commons “are immediately released from their confinement on a prorogation,” the note says:—
“But this law never extended to an adjournment, even when it was in the nature of a prorogation.”[111]
Take, for instance, the adjournments which habitually occur in the British Parliament at the Christmas holidays, at the Easter holidays, at the Whitsuntide holidays. You saw in the papers, only the other day, that Mr. Gladstone gave notice that the House of Commons would adjourn over several days on account of the Whitsuntide holidays; but nobody supposes that that is in the nature of a “prorogation,” or that a committal by order of the House of Commons would expire on such an adjournment, as it would not expire on our adjournment for our Christmas holidays.
Therefore do the very precedents of the British Parliament answer completely the case put by the Senator from New York, who imagined a difficulty from occasional adjournments at the Christmas holidays. Sir, we are to look at this precisely as it is. The prorogation of the House of Commons is an adjournment without day, corresponding precisely to our adjournment without day. I believe in Massachusetts, down to this moment, when the Legislature has agreed upon the time of its adjournment, it gives notice to the Governor, who sends the Secretary of the Commonwealth to prorogue it, and the Legislature is declared to be prorogued,—thus following the language so familiar in England.
Then it is argued that this power to commit may be prolonged by a Committee to sit during the vacation. But how so? The Committee has no power to commit. The power to commit comes from the Senate. How does the sitting of the Committee in the vacation add to its powers? It has no such power while the Senate is in session. How can it have any such power when the Senate has closed its session? But the power to protract the imprisonment of a citizen must be kindred with that to imprison.
I dismiss the whole argument founded upon the prolongation of the Committee as entirely irrelevant. Prolong the Committee, if you please, till doomsday; you cannot by that in any way affect the liberty of the citizen. The citizen is imprisoned only by the order of the Senate, and the power to imprison or to detain expires with the session. Such, Sir, is the rule that we have borrowed from England. Nor am I alone in thus interpreting it. I cited, the other day, the authentic work of the late Judge Cushing on the Law and Practice of Legislative Assemblies. I will, with your permission, read again his statement, as follows:—
“According to the Parliamentary Law of England there is a difference between the Lords and Commons in this respect: the former being authorized, and the latter not, to imprison for a period beyond the session.”
That is the testimony of Judge Cushing, who had devoted his life to the study of this subject. He then goes on:—
“In this country the power to imprison is either incidental to or expressly conferred upon all our legislative assemblies; and in some of the States it is also regulated by express constitutional provision.”
Then he gives his conclusion:—
“Where it is not so regulated, it is understood that the imprisonment terminates with the session.”[112]
Mark, if you please, “terminates with the session.”
Here you have the authentic words of this special authority, interpreting the English Parliamentary Law, and also declaring our law. Who is there that can go behind these words? What Senator will set up his research or his conclusion against that of this exemplar? Who is there here that will venture to claim for the Senate a prerogative which this American authority disclaims for legislative bodies in our country, unless expressly sanctioned by Constitutional Law?
I have shown that this power to commit beyond the session does not exist in the House of Commons, from which we derive such prerogatives or privileges as we have. But the stream cannot rise higher than the fountain-head. How, then, if the power does not exist in the House of Commons, can you find it here? You cannot trace the present assumption to any authentic, legitimate fountain. If you attempt it, permit me to say you will fail, and the assumption will appear without authority, and therefore a usurpation. I so characterize it, feeling that I cannot be called in question when I use this strong language. If you undertake to detain these prisoners beyond the expiration of this session, you become usurpers, the Senate of the United States usurps power that does not belong to it; and, Sir, this is more flagrant, when it is considered that it usurps this power in order to wield it against the liberty of fellow-citizens.
When I state this conclusion, I feel that I stand on supports that cannot be shaken. I stand on English authorities sustained by American authorities. You cannot find any exception. That in itself is an authority. If you could mention an exception, I should put it aside as an accident or an abuse, and not as an authority. The rule is fixed and positive; and I now have no hesitation in declaring that it will be the duty of the judge, on a writ of Habeas Corpus, as soon as this Senate closes its session, to set these prisoners at liberty, unless the Senate has the good sense in advance to authorize their discharge. I do not doubt the power and the duty of the Court. I am sure that no judge worthy of a place on the bench will hesitate in this judgment. Should he, I would read to him the simple words of the Lord Chief-Justice of England on the very point:—
“If the House ordered his imprisonment but for a week, every court in Westminster Hall and every judge of all the courts would be bound to discharge him by Habeas Corpus.”[113]
There is no way of answering those words. They are as commanding on this occasion as if they were in the very text of our Constitution. When I say this, I do not speak vaguely; for I am sure that every student of this subject will admit that a judgment like that which I have adduced on a question of Parliamentary Law, and in favor of the rights of the subject, is of an authority in our country equal to the Constitution itself.
This brings me, Sir, to an important point which I had hoped not to be called to discuss, but which the argument of the Senator from New York seems to press upon the consideration of the Senate and of the country; and therefore I shall open it to your attention, even if I do not discuss it. It is this: that, whatever may be the power even in England by Parliamentary Law, it by no means follows that the Senate of the United States has that power.
What is the Senate? A body created by a written Constitution, enjoying certain powers described and defined in the Constitution itself. The Constitution says nothing about contempt or punishment for contempt. In order to obtain this power you must go into inference and deduction; you must infer it or imply it. In the case of impeachments the Senate becomes a judicial body, and it is reasonable to infer that it may have the power to compel the attendance of witnesses,—in short, the powers of a court. The Senate also, by express terms of the Constitution, has the power to expel a member. There again is an inquiry in its nature judicial; and should the Senate on such occasion examine witnesses and proceed as a court, it may be inferred that it is so authorized by the Constitution. There is also a third power which the Senate possesses, judicial in character: it is to determine the election of its members. Beyond these every power that the Senate undertakes to exercise on this subject is derived by inference. It does not stand on any text of the Constitution. It is a mere implication, and, being adverse to the rights of the citizen, it must be construed strictly.
Now I am not ready to say, I do not say, that the Senate has not the power to institute a proceeding like that now in question. I am very clear that it has not the power by compulsory process to compel witnesses to testify in aid of legislation, as was once attempted in what was known familiarly as the Harper’s Ferry Investigating Case. But I do not undertake to say that it may not institute a proceeding like that in which we are now engaged; yet I admit its legality with great hesitation and with sincere doubt. I doubt whether such an assumption can stand an argument in this Chamber; I doubt whether it can stand a discussion before a court of justice. How do you arrive at such a power? The Senator from Wisconsin [Mr. Carpenter] said, the other day, the Senate, according to the arguments of certain Senators, has not the power of a justice of the peace. The Senator never spoke truer words: the Senate has not the power of a justice of the peace. A justice of the peace is a court with the powers of a court. The Senate of the United States is not a court, except in the cases to which I have already referred. It is a serious question whether it is a court in the proceeding which it has now seen fit to institute. Were it a court, then the argument of the Senator from Wisconsin might be applicable, and it might then claim the privileges of a court. It might proceed, if you please, to fine as well as to commit. The Senate in its discretion forbears to fine; it contents itself with imprisonment. But if it can imprison, why not fine? Why is not the whole catalogue of punishment open to its grasp?
I have reminded you, Sir, that our powers, whatever they may be, are under a written Constitution, and in this important respect clearly distinguishable from the powers of the House of Commons, which are the growth of tradition and immemorial usage. I am not the first person to take this ground. I find it judicially asserted in most authentic judgments, to which I beg to call the attention of the Senate.
I have in my hands the fourth volume of Moore’s Privy Council Cases, cases argued in the Privy Council of England, many of them being cases that have come up from the Colonies,—and here is one, being an appeal from the Supreme Court of the island of Newfoundland. I will read the marginal note:—
“The House of Assembly of the island of Newfoundland does not possess, as a legal incident, the power of arrest, with a view of adjudication on a contempt committed out of the House,—but only such powers as are reasonably necessary for the proper exercise of its functions and duties as a local Legislature.
“Semble.—The House of Commons possess this power only by virtue of ancient usage and prescription, the Lex et Consuetudo Parliamenti.
“Semble.—The Crown, by its prerogative, can create a Legislative Assembly in a settled colony, subordinate to Parliament, but with supreme power within the limits of the colony for the government of its inhabitants; but,
“Quære.—Whether it can bestow upon it an authority, namely, that of committing for contempt, not incidental to it by law?”[114]
I will not take time in reading extracts from the opinion of the Court, which goes on the ground that the Legislature of the Colony is acting under a commission from the Crown in the nature of a Constitution, being a written text, and that it could not therefore claim for itself those vast, immense, unknown privileges and prerogatives which by long usage are recognized as belonging to the House of Commons.
But the question was presented at a later day in another case before the Privy Council, which came from the Supreme Court of Van Diemen’s Land. I cite now Moore’s Privy Council Cases, volume eleven. This case was decided in 1858. It is therefore a recent authority. The marginal note is as follows:—
“The Lex et Consuetudo Parliamenti applies exclusively to the House of Lords and House of Commons in England, and is not conferred upon a Supreme Legislative Assembly of a colony or settlement by the introduction of the Common Law of England into the colony.
“No distinction in this respect exists between Colonial Legislative Councils and Assemblies whose power is derived by grant from the Crown or created under the authority of an Act of the Imperial Parliament.”[115]
You will see, Sir, that by this decision the powers of a Legislative Assembly created by a Charter are limited to the grants of the Charter, and that the mere creation of the legislative body does not carry with it the Law and Custom of Parliament. In the course of his opinion Lord Chief-Baron Pollock uses the following language. Alluding to the decision of the Privy Council in the Newfoundland case, he says:—
“They held that the power of the House of Commons in England was part of the Lex et Consuetudo Parliamenti; and the existence of that power in the Commons of Great Britain did not warrant the ascribing it to every Supreme Legislative Council or Assembly in the Colonies. We think we are bound by the decision of the case of Kielley v. Carson.… If the Legislative Council of Van Diemen’s Land cannot claim the power they have exercised on the occasion before us as inherently belonging to the supreme legislative authority which they undoubtedly possess, they cannot claim it under the statute as part of the Common Law of England (including the Lex et Consuetudo Parliamenti) transferred to the Colony by the 9th Geo. IV. c. 83, sect. 24. The Lex et Consuetudo Parliamenti apply exclusively to the Lords and Commons of this country, and do not apply to the Supreme Legislature of a Colony by the introduction of the Common Law there.”[116]
Now the question is directly presented by these decisions, whether under the written text of the Constitution of the United States you can ingraft upon our institutions the Law and Custom of Parliament. So far as these cases are applicable, they decide in the negative; but I will not press them to that extent. I adduce them for a more moderate purpose,—simply to put the Senate on its guard against any assumption of power in this matter. I do not undertake to say to what extent the Senate may go; but with these authorities I warn it against proceeding on any doubtful practices. If there be any doubt, then do these authorities cry out to you to stop.
I have said, Sir, that our powers here are limited by the Constitution: I may add, also, and the Law in pursuance of the Constitution. And now I ask you to show me any text of the Constitution, and to show me any text of Law, which authorizes the detention of these witnesses by the Senate. The Senate, be it understood, is not a court. Certainly, for this purpose and on this occasion, it is not a court. Show me the law. Does it exist? If it exists, some learned Senator can point it out. But while Senators fail to point out any law sanctioning such a procedure, I point out an immortal text in the Constitution of the United States, borrowed from Magna Charta, which it is difficult to disobey:—
“No person shall be held to answer for a capital or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, … nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law.”
“Without due process of law.” What is the meaning of that language? Judge Story[117] tells us, as follows:—
“Lord Coke[118] says that these latter words, per legem terræ, (by the law of the land,) mean by due process of law: that is, without due presentment or indictment, and being brought in to answer thereto by due process of the Common Law. So that this clause in effect affirms the right of trial according to the process and proceedings of the Common Law.”[119]
There, Sir, is a living text of the Constitution of the United States, binding upon this Senate. Where do you find any other text authorizing you to institute this proceeding? or if you institute the proceeding, must it not come within the limitations of this prohibition?
But I may be reminded that there are precedents. How many precedents are there for such a proceeding? We are familiar with all of them. The latest, the most authentic, is that of Thaddeus Hyatt, proceeded against because he refused to testify before the Harper’s Ferry Investigating Committee. Is that a precedent which you are disposed to follow? I am sure you would not, if you read the weighty argument in that proceeding made by the late John A. Andrew, and Samuel E. Sewall, of Massachusetts, the accomplished jurist, who still survives to us. Go still further back and you have the case, entirely like that before us, of Nugent,—who was not pursued, I was going to say, as ferociously as the present witnesses have been pursued, for his custody was simply that of the house of the Sergeant-at-Arms, and it was recognized at that time that even that mild custody would expire with the session of the Senate. You have also the earlier precedent of 1800 in the case of Duane, which, I think, Senators would hesitate now to vindicate. Let them look at it and see whether they would sanction a similar proceeding at this day,—whether such a tyranny could go on without shocking the public conscience, and being recognized universally as an assault upon the liberty of the press.[120]
Those are the cases furnished by the history of the Senate. Lord Denman, in the case of Stockdale v. Hansard, the famous case to which I have referred, gives an answer to them as follows: I quote from the ninth volume of Adolphus and Ellis’s Reports, page 155:—
“The practice of a ruling power in the State is but a feeble proof of its legality. I know not how long the practice of raising ship-money had prevailed before the right was denied by Hampden; general warrants had been issued and enforced for centuries before they were questioned in actions by Wilkes and his associates, who, by bringing them to the test of law, procured their condemnation and abandonment. I apprehend that acquiescence on this subject proves, in the first place, too much; for the admitted and grossest abuses of privilege have never been questioned by suits in Westminster Hall.”
This proceeding has analogy with one well known in English history, that of the Star-Chamber Court, which you will find described by Mr. Hallam in his “Constitutional History of England,” in chapter eight, and I refer to it merely for the sake of one single sentence which I cite from this great author:—
“But precedents of usurped power cannot establish a legal authority in defiance of the acknowledged law.”[121]
But where is the legal authority for the imprisonment of these witnesses? Only in mere inference, mere deduction,—the merest inference; but surely you will not take away the liberty of the citizen on any such shadowy, evanescent apology, which is no apology, but a sham, and nothing else. I have already called attention to the argument of Governor Andrew and Hon. S. E. Sewall, which will be found in the Congressional Globe under date of March 9, 1860. Did time permit, I should quote from it at length; but I commend it to the Senate and all inquirers.
As an illustration of the doubts which environ this question, I call attention to the case of Sanborn v. Carleton,[122] where Chief-Justice Shaw, of Massachusetts, gave the opinion of the Court. The Senator from Wisconsin [Mr. Carpenter] will not question his character. After stating that “it is admitted in the arguments that there is no express provision in the Constitution of the United States giving this authority in terms,”—that is, the alleged authority of the Senate,—he proceeds to say that there are questions on this subject “manifestly requiring great deliberation and research.” And yet Senators treat them as settled. The Chief-Justice then proceeds to announce that a warrant issued by order of the Senate of the United States for the arrest of a witness for contempt in refusing to appear before a Committee of the Senate, and addressed only to the Sergeant-at-Arms of the Senate, cannot be served in Massachusetts by a deputy. But this very question arises in the present proceedings. The managing editor of the “Tribune,” Mr. Whitelaw Reid, was summoned by a deputy, and not by the Sergeant-at-Arms. Gracefully yielding to the illegal summons, he appeared before the Committee; but the question of power still remains; and this very question adds to the embarrassments of the subject.
The extent of the abuse now in question will be seen, if I call the attention of the Senate to the last Report of the Committee of Investigation. By that Report it appears that they undertook to examine two agents of the Telegraph Company, who, finally, at the last moment, when asked to make a definitive statement with regard to the copy of the Treaty lodged with them for communication to New York, declined to answer. And you have now in this usurpation of the Senate an attempt to break into the telegraph-offices of the United States. You raise, for the first time in this Chamber, one of the great questions of the times. Can you do any such thing?
Mr. Nye [of Nevada]. I should like to ask the Senator from Massachusetts if the courts have not broken into the telegraph-offices?
Mr. Sumner. I am not speaking about the courts. I am speaking about the Senate of the United States.
Mr. Nye. I ask the Senator if the Senate of the United States, in this investigation, as long as it exists, has not all the authority of a court?
Mr. Sumner. I have already stated that it has not,—that it has not the authority of a justice of the peace. The Senate proposes to break into the telegraph-offices of the United States. In the guise of privilege, it enters those penetralia and insists that the secrets shall be disclosed. What is the difference between a communication by telegraph and a communication by letter? Is there not a growing substitution of the telegram for the letter? Has not this taken place to an immense extent in England? Is it not now taking place to an immense extent in our own country?
Now, Sir, mark the limitation of my language. I do not mean to say that the telegram is entitled to all the sacredness of the letter; but I do insist that the Senate, before it undertakes to break into the telegraph-offices of the United States, shall calmly consider the question, and see to what end the present disposition will carry them. Senators who have not entirely forgotten the recent history of England know that the powerful Cabinet of Sir Robert Peel for a time trembled under the imputation that one of its ablest members, Sir James Graham, who, Mr. Webster told me, in his judgment, was the best speaker in Parliament, had authorized the opening of the letters of Mazzini at the Post-Office. The subject was brought before Parliament night after night. You shall see how it was treated. The Liberal member from Finsbury, Mr. Duncombe, in presenting it first,—I read from Hansard,—after inveighing against the opening of letters, said:—
“That was a system which the people of this country would not bear, which they ought not to bear; and he hoped, after the exposure which had taken place, that some means would be adopted for counteracting this insidious conduct of her Majesty’s ministers. It was disgraceful to a free country that such a system should be tolerated. It might do in Russia, ay, or even in France, or it might do in the Austrian dominions, it might do in Sardinia; but it did not suit the free air of this free country.”[123]
Lord Denman, always on the side of Freedom, at the time Chief-Justice of England, in the House of Lords said:—
“Could anything be more revolting to the feeling than that any man might have all his letters opened in consequence of some information respecting him having been given to the Secretary of State, and that the contents of those letters, which he might have never received, might be made use of for the purpose of proceeding against him in a court of justice? The letters of a man might be opened, and he might not have the slightest intimation that he was betrayed. Now is such a state of things to be tolerated in a civilized country? He would say, without the slightest hesitation, that it ought not to be borne with for a single hour.”[124]
Lord Brougham observed that—
“He had not expressed any approval of the system; on the contrary, he distinctly stated that nothing but absolute necessity for the safety of the State would justify it.”[125]
I might occupy your time till evening in adducing the strong language of reprobation which was employed at that time. I will conclude with an extract from a speech of that remarkable Irish orator, Mr. Sheil, as follows:—
“That which is deemed utterly scandalous in private life ought not to be tolerated in any department of the State; and from the Statute-Book, which it dishonors, this ignominious prerogative ought to be effaced forever.”[126]
That brings me to the point, Sir, that there was an old statute of Queen Anne which authorized the opening of letters at the Post-Office under the order of a Secretary of State;[127] but, notwithstanding that old statute, the system was reprobated. And now it is proposed, in the maintenance of the privileges of the Senate, not in the administration of justice before any court, but in the enforcement of the privileges of the Senate, to penetrate the secrets of the Telegraph. I will not undertake to say that you cannot do it. I content myself now with calling attention to the magnitude of the question, and adducing it as a new reason why you should hesitate in this whole business. You see to what it conducts. You see in what direction you are travelling. You see how, if you persevere, you will shock the conscience and the sensibilities of the American people.
I do not believe that the American people will willingly see the Telegraph rifled, any more than they will see the Post-Office rifled, in order to maintain medieval, antediluvian privileges of the Senate,—especially when those privileges cannot be deduced from any text of the Constitution, but are simply inferred from the ancient, primeval Law and Usage of Parliament. Not only the orators, but the wits of the time, denounced the attempt in England to open letters. Punch caricatured the Secretary who attempted it as “Paul Pry at the Post-Office.”[128] But is not the Senate in the Report of our Committee “Paul Pry at the Telegraph-Office?”
I make these remarks with a view of opening to the Senate the importance of the question before them, that they may once more hesitate and withdraw to the safe ground of the Constitution and the Law; for there is nothing in the Constitution or in the Law that can sanction the continued imprisonment of these witnesses. Even suppose your proceedings have been from the beginning in all respects just and proper, even suppose that you can vindicate them, in regard to which I beg leave to express a sincere doubt, you cannot vindicate the attempt to continue these witnesses in custody when you go away. Then they are as free as you. If they are detained in prison, it is only because you yourselves are imprisoned here in the discharge of your responsible duties. When your imprisonment comes to an end, theirs comes to an end also. You cannot go home and leave them captives. The Law will step in and take them from your clutch. Better, then, in advance, by a proper and generous resolution, to order their discharge, so that the Law will not be compelled to do what you fail to do.
The resolution was agreed to,—Yeas 23, Nays 13.
THE HAYTIAN MEDAL.
Response to the Letter of Presentation, July 13, 1871.
The Medal was placed in Mr. Sumner’s hands July 13, 1871, by General Preston, the Haytian Minister, together with the following letter, signed by the President and several distinguished citizens of the Republic:—
“Liberty, Equality, Fraternity!
Republic of Hayti.
“To the Hon. Charles Sumner, Senator of Massachusetts:—
“Honorable Senator,—The independence of Hayti has been our object. To affirm the aptitude of the black race for civilization and self-government, by your eloquence and your high morality you have made free four millions of blacks in the United States. In defending our independence on two solemn occasions, you have protected and defended something more august even than the liberty of the blacks in America. It is the dignity of a black people seeking to place itself, by its own efforts, at the banquet of the civilized world. Hayti thanks you. She will be able to justify your esteem, and to maintain herself at the height of her mission, marching in the path of progress. In the name of the Haytian people, we pray you to accept, as a feeble testimony of its gratitude, this medal, which will perpetuate in ages to come the recollection of the services which you have rendered to us as citizens of the world, and to black Humanity.”
Mr. Sumner at the time expressed his gratitude, and said that he would communicate with the signers in writing. That same evening he sent an informal note to the Minister, saying that he feared he should feel constrained to decline the present, and subsequently replied to the letter of presentation as follows:—
Washington, July 13, 1871.
GENTLEMEN,—I have received to-day, by the hands of your Minister at Washington, the beautiful medal which you have done me the honor of presenting to me in the name of the Haytian people, together with the accompanying communication bearing so many distinguished names, among which I recognize that of the estimable President of the Republic. Allow me to say, most sincerely, that I do not deserve this token, nor the flattering terms of your communication. I am only one of many who have labored for the enfranchisement of the African race, and who yet stand ready to serve at all times the sacred cause; nor have I done anything except in the simple discharge of duty. I could not have done otherwise without the rebuke of my conscience.
In this service I have acted always under promptings which with me were irresistible. Like you, I hail the assured independence of Hayti as important in illustrating the capacity of the African race for self-government; and I rejoice to know that distinguished Haytians recognize the necessity of clinging to national life, not only for the sake of their own Republic, but as an example for the benefit of that vast race over which the white man has so long tyrannized. Your successful independence will be the triumph of the black man everywhere, in all the isles of the sea, and in all the unknown expanse of the African continent, marking a great epoch of civilization. In cultivating a sentiment of nationality, you will naturally insist upon that equality among nations which is your right. Self-government implies self-respect. In the presence of International Law all nations are equal. As well deprive a citizen of equality before the law as deprive a nation. You will also insist upon that Christian rule, as applicable to nations as to individuals, of doing unto others as you would have them do unto you. Following it always in your own conduct, and expecting others to follow it towards you, will you ever forget that sentiment of Humanity by which all men are one, with common title, with common right?
I rejoice, again, in the assurance you give that Hayti is prepared to advance in the path of Progress. Here I offer my best wishes, with the ardent aspiration that the two good angels, Education and Peace, may be her guides and support in this happy path. With education for the people, and with peace, foreign and domestic, especially everywhere on the island, the independence of Hayti will be placed beyond the assaults of force or the intrigues of designing men, besides being an encouragement to the African race everywhere.
I trust that you will receive with indulgence these frank words in response to the communication with which you have honored me: they will show at least my constant sympathy with your cause.
And now, Gentlemen, I throw myself again on your indulgence, while expressing the hope that you will not suspect me of insensibility to your generous present, if I add, that, considering the text of the Constitution of the United States and the service you have intended to commemorate, I deem it my duty to return the beautiful medal into your hands. To this I am constrained by the spirit, if not by the letter of the Constitution, which forbids any person in my situation from accepting any present of any kind whatever from a foreign State. Though this present is not strictly from the State of Hayti, yet, when I observe, that, according to the flattering inscription, it is from the Haytian people, and that the communication accompanying it is signed by the President and eminent magistrates of Hayti, and still further that it is in recognition of services rendered by me as a Senator of the United States, I feel that I cannot receive it without acting in some measure contrary to the intention of the Constitution which I am bound to support. In arriving at this conclusion I have been governed by that same sense of duty which on the occasions to which you refer made me your advocate, and which with me is a supreme power. While thus resigning this most interesting token, I beg you to believe me none the less grateful for the signal honor you have done me.
Accept for yourselves and for your country all good wishes, and allow me to subscribe myself, Gentlemen,
Your devoted friend,
Charles Sumner.
The medal was subsequently presented by the Haytian Government to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and deposited in the State Library.
EQUALITY OF RIGHTS IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS.
Letter to George W. Walker, President of the Board of School Directors of Jefferson, Texas, July 28, 1871.
Mr. Walker having written to Mr. Sumner, asking his views in regard to the management of public schools, &c., the latter replied as follows:—
Washington, 28th July, 1871.
DEAR SIR,—As in Europe there will be no durable tranquillity until Republican Government prevails, so among us there will be a similar failure until Equality before the Law is completely established,—at the ballot-box,—in the court-house,—in the public school,—in the public hotel,—and in the public conveyance, whether on land or water. At least, so it seems to me.
I doubt if I can add materially to the argument which you have already received, but, with your permission, I ask attention to the point that equality is not found in equivalents. You cannot give the colored child any equivalent for equality.
Accept my best wishes, and believe me, dear Sir,
Faithfully yours,
Charles Sumner.
PEACE AND THE REPUBLIC FOR FRANCE.
Remarks in Music Hall, Boston, introducing M. Athanase Coquerel, of Paris, October 9, 1871.
At the first of two lectures entitled “The Two Sieges of Paris,” by M. Coquerel, Mr. Sumner, being called to preside, said:—
I cannot forget, Ladies and Gentlemen, that in other years the enjoyments of Paris were heightened for me, as I listened, more than once, to an eloquent French preacher, on whose words multitudes hung with rapture while he unfolded Christian truth. The scene, though distant in time, rises before me, and I enjoy again that voice of melody, and that rare union of elegance with earnestness, of amenity with strength, which were so captivating; nor do I know that I have since witnessed in any pulpit or assembly, or on any platform, more magnetic power visibly appearing as the orator drew to himself the listening throng, and all commingled into one.
It is now my grateful duty to welcome the son of that orator, who, with his father’s genius, visits us on an errand of charity.
He will speak to you of Paris the Beautiful, and of the double tragedy only recently enacted, where the bursting shells of a foreign foe were followed by the more direful explosions of domestic feud. The story is sad, among the saddest in history; but it is a wonderful chapter, with most instructive lesson.
Knowing our honored guest by his life, I am sure that to him war is detestable, while Republican Government is his aspiration for France. Were all Frenchmen of his mind, the deadly war-fever would disappear, and the Republic would be established on a foundation not to be shaken; and then would France rise to glories which she has never before reached. Plainly, at this epoch of civilization, there are two Great Commandments which this powerful nation cannot disobey with impunity. The first is Peace; and the second, which is like unto the first, is the Republic. But the Republic is Peace,—most unlike the Empire, which was always war in disguise.
It is sometimes said, somewhat lightly, that France is a Republic without Republicans. A great mistake. Was not Lafayette a Republican? And I now have the honor of presenting to you another.
THE GREAT FIRE AT CHICAGO, AND OUR DUTY.
Speech at Faneuil Hall, at a Meeting for the Relief of Sufferers at Chicago, October 10, 1871.
The meeting was at noon, and the chair taken by the Mayor, Hon. William Gaston. Hon. Alexander H. Rice introduced resolutions, and spoke, when Mr. Sumner followed:—
Mr. Mayor and Fellow-Citizens:—
I come forward to second the resolutions moved by my friend Mr. Rice, and to express my hope that they may be adopted unanimously, and then acted upon vigorously.
Fellow-Citizens, I had expected to be elsewhere to-day; but, thinking of the distress of distant friends and countrymen, my heart was too full for anything else, and, putting aside other things, I have come to Faneuil Hall, as a simple volunteer, to help swell this movement of sympathy and beneficence.
This is a meeting for action; but are we not told that eloquence is action, action, action? And most true is it now. Help for the suffering is the highest eloquence. The best speech is a subscription. And he is the orator whose charity is largest.
“Thrice he gives who quickly gives.” This is a familiar saying from the olden time. Never was it more applicable than now. Destruction has been swift; let your gifts be swift also. If the Angel Charity is not as quick of wing as the Fire-Fiend, yet it is more mighty and far-reaching. Against the Fire-Fiend I put the Angel Charity.
According to another saying handed down by ancient philosophy, that is the best government where a wrong to a single individual is resented as an injury to all. This sentiment is worthy of careful meditation. It implies the solidarity of the community, and the duty of coöperation. There is no wrong now, but an immense calamity, in which individuals suffer. Be it our duty to treat this calamity of individuals as the calamity of all.
Who does not know Chicago? Most have visited it, and seen it with the eye; but all know its pivotal position, making a great centre, and also its immense growth and development. In a few years, beginning as late as 1833, it has become a great city; and now it is called to endure one of those visitations which in times past have descended upon great cities. Much as it suffers, it is not alone. The catalogue discloses companions in the past.
The fire of London, in September, 1666, raged from Sunday to Thursday, with the wind blowing a gale, reducing two-thirds of the city to ashes. Thirteen thousand two hundred houses were consumed, and eighty-nine churches, including St. Paul’s, covering three hundred and seventy-three acres within and sixty-three without the walls. The value of buildings and property burned was estimated at between ten and twelve millions sterling, which, making allowance for difference of values, now would be more than one hundred million dollars. I doubt if the population of London then was larger than that of Chicago. And yet an English historian, recounting this event, says, “Though severe at the time, this visitation contributed materially to the improvement of the city.”[129]
Ancient Rome had her terrible conflagration, hardly less sweeping, when populous quarters were devoured by the irresistible flame; and history records that out of this destruction sprang a new life.
Is there not in these examples a lesson of encouragement for Chicago sitting now in ashes? A great fire in other days was worse than a great fire now; for then it was borne in solitude by the place where it occurred; now the whole country rushes forward to bear it, making common cause with the sufferers. I cannot doubt that out of this great calamity, which we justly deplore, will spring improvement. Everything will be bettered. The city thus far has been a growth; it will become at once a creation. But future magnificence, filling the imagination, will not feed the hungry and clothe the naked, nor will it provide homes for the destitute. The future cannot take care of the present. This is our duty, and it is all expressed in Charity.
Other speakers followed. The resolutions were adopted, and a subscription was commenced at once.
RIGHTS AND DUTIES OF OUR COLORED FELLOW-CITIZENS.
Letter to the National Convention of Colored Citizens at Columbia, South Carolina, October 12, 1871.
This letter was read in the Convention October 24th, the sixth day of its sitting, and received a vote of thanks.
Boston, October 12, 1871.
DEAR SIR,—I am glad that our colored fellow-citizens are to have a Convention of their own. So long as they are excluded from rights or suffer in any way on account of color, they will naturally meet together in order to find a proper remedy; and since you kindly invite me to communicate with the Convention, I make bold to offer a few brief suggestions.
In the first place, you must at all times insist upon your rights; and here I mean not only those already accorded, but others still denied, all of which are contained in Equality before the Law. Wherever the law supplies a rule, there you must insist on Equal Rights. How much remains to be obtained you know too well in the experience of life.
Can a respectable colored citizen travel on steamboats or railways, or public conveyances generally, without insult on account of color? Let Governor Dunn of Louisiana describe his journey from New Orleans to Washington. Shut out from proper accommodation in the cars, the doors of the Senate Chamber opened to him, and there he found that equality which a railroad conductor had denied. Let our excellent friend, Frederick Douglass, relate his melancholy experience, when, on board the mail-boat of the Potomac and within sight of the Executive Mansion, he was thrust back from the supper-table, where his brother Commissioners were already seated. You know the outrage.
I might ask the same question with regard to hotels, and even the common schools. A hotel is a legal institution, and so is a common school, and as such each must be for the equal benefit of all. Nor can there be any exclusion from either on account of color. It is not enough to provide separate accommodations for colored citizens, even if in all respects as good as those of other persons. Equality is not found in any pretended equivalent, but only in equality; in other words, there must be no discrimination on account of color.
The discrimination is an insult, a hindrance, a bar, which not only destroys comfort and prevents equality, but weakens all other rights. The right to vote will have no security until your equal rights in the public conveyances, hotels, and common schools are at last established; but here you must insist for yourselves by speech, by petition, and by vote. Help yourselves, and others will help also.
The Civil Rights Law needs a supplement to cover these cases. This defect has been apparent from the beginning, and for a long time I have striven to remove it. A bill for this purpose, introduced by me, is now pending in the Senate. Will not colored fellow-citizens see that those in power no longer postpone this essential safeguard? Surely here is an object worthy of effort. Nor has the Republican party done its work until this is accomplished.
Is it not better to establish all our own people in the enjoyment of equal rights before we seek to bring others within the sphere of our institutions, to be treated as Frederick Douglass was on his way to the President from San Domingo? It is easy to see that a small part of the means, the energy, and the determined will spent in the expedition to San Domingo, and in the prolonged war-dance about that island, with menace to the Black Republic of Hayti, would have secured all our colored fellow-citizens in the enjoyment of equal rights. Of this there can be no doubt.
Among cardinal objects is Education, which must be insisted on; here again must be equality, side by side with the alphabet. It is vain to teach equality, if you do not practise it. It is vain to recite the great words of the Declaration of Independence, if you do not make them a living reality. What is a lesson without example?
As all are equal at the ballot-box, so must all be equal at the common school. Equality in the common school is the preparation for equality at the ballot-box. Therefore do I put this among the essentials of education.
In asserting your rights, you will not fail to insist upon justice to all, under which is necessarily included purity in the Government. Thieves and money-changers, whether Democrats or Republicans, must be driven out of our Temple. Let Tammany Hall and Republican self-seekers be overthrown. There should be no place for either. Thank God, good men are coming to the rescue. Let them, while uniting against corruption, insist upon Equal Rights for All,—also the suppression of lawless violence, whether in the Ku-Klux-Klan outraging the South, or illicit undertakings outraging the Black Republic of Hayti.
To these inestimable objects add Specie Payments, and you will have a platform which ought to be accepted by the American people. Will not our colored fellow-citizens begin this good work? Let them at the same time save themselves and save the country.
These are only hints, which I submit to the Convention, hoping that its proceedings will tend especially to the good of the colored race.
Accept my thanks and best wishes, and believe me faithfully yours,
Charles Sumner.
Hon. H. M. Turner.
ONE TERM FOR PRESIDENT.
Resolution and Remarks in the Senate, December 21, 1871.
MR. PRESIDENT,—In pursuance of notice already given, I ask leave to introduce a Joint Resolution proposing an Amendment of the Constitution confining the President to one term. In introducing this Amendment I content myself with a brief remark.
This is the era of Civil Service Reform, and the President of the United States, in formal Message, has already called our attention to the important subject, and made recommendations with regard to it.[130] It may be remembered that I hailed that Message at once, as it was read from the desk. I forbore then to observe that I missed one recommendation, a very important recommendation, without which all the other recommendations, I fear, may be futile. I missed a recommendation in conformity with the best precedents of our history, and with the opinions of illustrious men, that the Constitution be amended so as to confine the President to one term.
Sir, that is the initial point of Civil Service Reform; that is the first stage in the great reform. The scheme of the President is the play of “Hamlet” without Hamlet. I propose by the Amendment that I offer to see that Hamlet is brought into the play. I send the resolution to the Chair.
Mr. Bayard. I should like to have that paper read for the information of the Senate.
The President pro tempore. The Joint Resolution will be read at length.
The Chief Clerk read as follows:—
Joint Resolution proposing an Amendment of the Constitution, confining the President to One Term.
Whereas for many years there has been an increasing conviction among the people, without distinction of party, that one wielding the vast patronage of the President should not be a candidate for reëlection, and this conviction has found expression in the solemn warnings of illustrious citizens, and in repeated propositions for an Amendment of the Constitution confining the President to one term:
Whereas Andrew Jackson was so fully impressed by the peril to Republican Institutions from the temptations acting on a President, who, wielding the vast patronage of his office, is a candidate for reëlection, that, in his first Annual Message, he called attention to it;[131] that, in his second Annual Message, after setting forth the design of the Constitution “to secure the independence of each department of the Government, and promote the healthful and equitable administration of all the trusts which it has created,” he did not hesitate to say, “The agent most likely to contravene this design of the Constitution is the Chief Magistrate,” and then proceeded to declare, “In order particularly that his appointment may as far as possible be placed beyond the reach of any improper influences; in order that he may approach the solemn responsibilities of the highest office in the gift of a free people uncommitted to any other course than the strict line of constitutional duty; and that the securities for this independence may be rendered as strong as the nature of power and the weakness of its possessor will admit, I cannot too earnestly invite your attention to the propriety of promoting such an Amendment of the Constitution as will render him ineligible after one term of service”;[132] and then, again, in his third Annual Message, the same President renewed this patriotic appeal:[133]
Whereas William Henry Harrison, following in the footsteps of Andrew Jackson, felt it a primary duty, in accepting his nomination as President, to assert the One-Term principle in these explicit words: “Among the principles proper to be adopted by any Executive sincerely desirous to restore the Administration to its original simplicity and purity, I deem the following to be of prominent importance: first, to confine his service to a single term”;[134] and then, in public speech during the canvass which ended in his election, declared, “If the privilege of being President of the United States had been limited to one term, the incumbent would devote all his time to the public interest, and there would be no cause to misrule the country”; and he concluded by pledging himself “before Heaven and Earth, if elected President of these United States, to lay down, at the end of the term, faithfully, that high trust at the feet of the people”:[135]
Whereas Henry Clay, though differing much from Andrew Jackson, united with him on the One-Term principle, and publicly enforced it in a speech, June 27, 1840, where, after asking for “a provision to render a person ineligible to the office of President of the United States after a service of one term,” he explained the necessity of the Amendment by saying, “Much observation and deliberate reflection have satisfied me that too much of the time, the thoughts, and the exertions of the incumbent are occupied during his first term in securing his reëlection: the public business consequently suffers”;[136] and then, again, in a letter dated September 13, 1842, while setting forth what he calls “principal objects engaging the common desire and the common exertion of the Whig party,” the same statesman specifies “an Amendment of the Constitution, limiting the incumbent of the Presidential office to a single term”:[137]
Whereas the Whig party, in its National Convention at Baltimore, May 1, 1844, nominated Henry Clay as President and Theodore Frelinghuysen as Vice-President, with a platform where “a single term for the Presidency” is declared to be among “the great principles of the Whig party, principles inseparable from the public honor and prosperity, to be maintained and advanced by the election of these candidates”;[138] which declaration was echoed at the great National Ratification Convention the next day, addressed by Daniel Webster, where it was resolved that “the limitation of a President to a single term” was among the objects “for which the Whig party will unceasingly strive until their efforts are crowned with a signal and triumphant success”:[139]
Whereas, in the same spirit and in harmony with these authorities, another statesman, Benjamin F. Wade, at the close of his long service in the Senate, most earnestly urged an Amendment of the Constitution confining the President to one term, and in his speech on that occasion, February 20, 1866, said, “The offering of this resolution is no new impulse of mine, for I have been an advocate of the principle contained in it for many years, and I have derived the strong impressions which I entertain on the subject from a very careful observation of the workings of our Government during the period that I have been an observer of them; I believe it has been very rare that we have been able to elect a President of the United States who has not been tempted to use the vast powers intrusted to him according to his own opinions to advance his reëlection”; and then, after exposing at length the necessity of this Amendment, the veteran Senator further declared, “There are defects in the Constitution, and this is among the most glaring; all men have seen it; and now let us have the nerve, let us have the resolution to come up and apply the remedy”:[140]
Whereas these testimonies, revealing intense and wide-spread convictions of the American people, are reinforced by the friendly observations of De Tocqueville, the remarkable Frenchman to whom our country is under such great and lasting obligations, in his famous work on “Democracy in America,” where he says, in words of singular clearness and force, “Intrigue and corruption are vices natural to elective Governments; but when the chief of the State can be reëlected, these vices extend themselves indefinitely, and compromise the very existence of the country: when a simple candidate seeks success by intrigue, his manœuvres can operate only over a circumscribed space; when, on the contrary, the chief of the State himself enters the lists, he borrows for his own use the force of the Government: in the first case, it is a man, with his feeble means; in the second, it is the State itself, with its immense resources, that intrigues and corrupts”:[141] and then, again, the same great writer, who had studied our country so closely, testifies: “It is impossible to consider the ordinary course of affairs in the United States without perceiving that the desire to be reëlected dominates the thoughts of the President; that the whole policy of his Administration tends toward this point; that his least movements are made subservient to this object; that, especially as the moment of crisis approaches, individual interest substitutes itself in his mind for the general interest”:[142]
Whereas all these concurring voices, where patriotism, experience, and reason bear testimony, have additional value at a moment when the country is looking anxiously to a reform of the civil service, for the plain reason that the peril from the Chief Magistrate, so long as he is exposed to temptation, surpasses that from any other quarter, and thus the first stage in this much-desired reform is the One-Term principle, to the end that the President, who exercises the appointing power, reaching into all parts of the country and holding in subserviency a multitudinous army of office-holders, shall be absolutely without motive or inducement to employ it for any other purpose than the public good:
And whereas the character of Republican Institutions requires that the Chief Magistrate shall be above all suspicion of using the machinery of which he is the official head to promote his own personal aims: Therefore,
Be it resolved by the Senate and House of Representatives, &c., That the following Article is hereby proposed as an Amendment to the Constitution of the United States, and, when ratified by the Legislatures of three-fourths of the several States, shall be valid, to all intents and purposes, as part of the Constitution; to wit:
Article ——.
Sec. 1. No person who has once held the office of President of the United States shall be thereafter eligible to that office.
Sec. 2. This Amendment shall not take effect until after the 4th March, 1873.
On motion of Mr. Sumner, the resolution was ordered to lie on the table, and be printed.
THE BEST PORTRAITS IN ENGRAVING.
Article in “The City,” an Illustrated Magazine, New York, January 1, 1872.
Engraving is one of the Fine Arts, and in this beautiful family has been the especial hand-maiden of Painting. Another sister is now coming forward to join this service, lending to it the charm of color. If, in our day, the “Chromo” can do more than Engraving, it cannot impair the value of the early masters. With them there is no rivalry or competition. Historically, as well as æsthetically, they will be masters always.
Everybody knows something of engraving, as of printing, with which it was associated in origin. School-books, illustrated papers, and shop-windows are the ordinary opportunities open to all. But, while creating a transient interest, or perhaps quickening the taste, they furnish little with regard to the art itself, especially in other days. And yet, looking at an engraving, like looking at a book, may be the beginning of a new pleasure and a new study.
Each person has his own story. Mine is simple. Suffering from continued prostration, disabling me from the ordinary activities of life, I turned to engravings for employment and pastime. With the invaluable assistance of that devoted connoisseur, the late Dr. Thies, I went through the Gray Collection at Cambridge, enjoying it like a picture-gallery. Other collections in our country were examined also. Then, in Paris, while undergoing severe medical treatment, my daily medicine for weeks was the vast cabinet of engravings, then called Imperial, now National, counted by the million, where was everything to please or instruct. Thinking of those kindly portfolios, I make this record of gratitude, as to benefactors. Perhaps some other invalid, seeking occupation without burden, may find in them the solace that I did. Happily, it is not necessary to visit Paris for the purpose. Other collections, on a smaller scale, will furnish the same remedy.
In any considerable collection Portraits occupy an important place. Their multitude may be inferred, when I mention that in one series of portfolios in the Paris Cabinet I counted no less than forty-seven portraits of Franklin and forty-three of Lafayette, with an equal number of Washington, while all the early Presidents were numerously represented. But in this large company there are very few possessing artistic value. The great portraits of modern times constitute a very short list, like the great poems or histories; and it is the same with engravings as with pictures. Sir Joshua Reynolds, explaining the difference between an historical painter and a portrait-painter, remarks that the former “paints man in general; a portrait-painter a particular man, and consequently a defective model.”[143] A portrait, therefore, may be an accurate presentment of its subject without æsthetic value.
But here, as in other things, genius exercises its accustomed sway without limitation. Even the difficulties of “a defective model” did not prevent Raphael, Titian, Rembrandt, Rubens, Velasquez, or Van Dyck from producing portraits precious in the history of Art. It would be easy to mention heads by Raphael yielding in value to only two or three of his larger masterpieces, like the Dresden Madonna. Charles the Fifth stooped to pick up the pencil of Titian, saying, “It becomes Cæsar to serve Titian!” True enough; but this unprecedented compliment from the imperial successor of Charlemagne attests the glory of the portrait-painter. The female figures of Titian, so much admired under the names of Flora, La Bella, his Daughter, his Mistress, and even his Venus were portraits from life. Rembrandt turned from his great triumphs in his own peculiar school to portraits of unwonted power; so also did Rubens, showing that in this department his universality of conquest was not arrested. To these must be added Velasquez and Van Dyck, each of infinite genius, who won fame especially as portrait-painters. And what other title has Sir Joshua himself?
Historical pictures are often collections of portraits arranged so as to illustrate an important event. Such is the famous Peace of Münster, by Terburg, just presented by a liberal Englishman to the National Gallery at London. Here are the plenipotentiaries of Spain and the United Provinces joining in the ratification of the treaty which, after eighty years of war, gave peace and independence to the latter.[144] The engraving by Suyderhoef is rare and interesting. Similar in character is The Death of Chatham, by Copley, where the illustrious statesman is surrounded by the peers he had been addressing,—every one a portrait. To this list must be added the pictures by Trumbull in the Rotunda of the Capitol at Washington, especially The Declaration of Independence, in which Thackeray took a sincere interest. Standing before these, the author and artist said to me, “These are the best pictures in the country,”—and he proceeded to remark on their honesty and fidelity; but doubtless their real value is in their portraits.
Unquestionably the finest assemblage of portraits anywhere is that of the artists occupying two halls in the Uffizi Gallery at Florence, being autographs contributed by the masters themselves. Here is Raphael, with chestnut-brown hair, and dark eyes full of sensibility, painted when he was twenty-three, and known by the engraving of Forster,—Giulio Romano, in black and red chalk on paper,—Masaccio, one of the fathers of painting, much admired,—Leonardo da Vinci, beautiful and grand,—Titian, rich and splendid,—Pietro Perugino, remarkable for execution and expression,—Albert Dürer, rigid, but masterly,—Gerard Dow, finished according to his own exacting style,—and Reynolds, with fresh English face: but these are only examples of this incomparable collection, which was begun as far back as the Cardinal Leopoldo de’ Medici, and has been happily continued to the present time. Here are the lions, painted by themselves,—except, perhaps, the foremost of all, Michel Angelo, whose portrait seems the work of another. The impression from this collection is confirmed by that of any group of historic artists. Their portraits excel those of statesmen, soldiers, or divines, as is easily seen by engravings accessible to all. The engraved heads in Arnold Houbraken’s biographies of the Dutch and Flemish painters, in three volumes, are a family of rare beauty.[145]
The relation of engraving to painting is often discussed; but nobody has treated it with more knowledge or sentiment than the consummate engraver Longhi, in his interesting work “La Calcografia.”[146] Dwelling on the general aid it renders to the lovers of Art, he claims for it greater merit in “publishing and immortalizing the portraits and actions of eminent men as an example to the present and future generations,” and, “better than any other art, serving as a vehicle for the most extended and remote propagation of a deserved celebrity.”[147] Even great monuments in porphyry and bronze are less durable than these light and fragile prints, subject to all the chances of wind, water, and fire, but prevailing by their numbers where hardness and tenacity succumb. In other words, it is with engravings as with books; nor is this the only resemblance between them. According to Longhi, an engraving is not a copy or an imitation, as is sometimes insisted, but a translation.[148] The engraver translates into another language, where light and shade supply the place of colors. The duplication of a book in the same language is a copy, and so is the duplication of a picture in the same material. Evidently an engraving is not a copy; it does not reproduce the original picture, except in drawing and expression: nor is it a mere imitation; but, as Bryant’s Homer and Longfellow’s Dante are presentations of the great originals in another language, so is the engraving a presentation of painting in another material, which is like another language.
Thus does the engraver vindicate his art. But nobody can examine a choice print without feeling that it has a merit of its own, different from any picture, and inferior only to a good picture. A work of Raphael, or any of the great masters, is better in an engraving of Longhi or Morghen than in any ordinary copy, and would probably cost more in the market. A good engraving is an undoubted work of Art; but this cannot be said of many pictures, which, like Peter Pindar’s razors, seem made only to sell.
Much that belongs to the painter belongs also to the engraver, who must have the same knowledge of contours, the same power of expression, the same sense of beauty, and the same ability in drawing with sureness of sight, as if, according to Michel Angelo, he had “a pair of compasses in his eyes.” These qualities in a high degree make the artist, whether painter or engraver, naturally excel in portraits. But choice portraits are less numerous in engraving than in painting, for the reason that painting does not always find a successful translator.
The earliest engraved portraits which attract attention are by Albert Dürer, who engraved his own work, translating himself. His eminence as painter was continued as engraver. Here he surpassed his predecessors,—Martin Schoen in Germany, and Mantegna in Italy,—so that Longhi does not hesitate to say that “he was the first who carried this art from infancy, in which he found it, to a condition not far from flourishing adolescence.”[149] But while recognizing his great place in the history of engraving, it is impossible not to see that he is often hard and constrained, if not unfinished. His portrait of Erasmus is justly famous, and is conspicuous among the prints exhibited in the British Museum. It is dated 1526, two years before the death of Dürer, and has helped to extend the fame of the universal scholar and approved man of letters, who in his own age filled a sphere not unlike that of Voltaire in a later century. There is another portrait of Erasmus by Holbein, often repeated; so that two great artists have contributed to his renown. That by Dürer is admired. The general fineness of touch, with the accessories of books and flowers, shows the care in its execution; but it wants expression, and the hands are far from graceful.
Another most interesting portrait by Dürer, executed in the same year with the Erasmus, is Philip Melanchthon, the Saint John of the Reformation, sometimes called “The Teacher of Germany,”—Preceptor Germaniæ. Luther, while speaking of himself as rough, boisterous, stormy, and altogether warlike, says, “But Master Philippus moves gently and quietly along, ploughs and plants, sows and waters with pleasure, according as God hath given him His gifts richly.”[150] At the date of the print he was twenty-nine years of age, and the countenance shows the mild reformer.
Agostino Caracci, of the Bolognese family, memorable in Art, added to considerable success as painter undoubted triumphs as engraver. His prints are numerous, and many are regarded with favor; but in the long list not one is so sure of that longevity allotted to Art as his portrait of Titian, which bears date 1587, eleven years after the death of the latter. Over it is the inscription, “Titiani Vecellii Pictoris celeberrimi ac famosissimi vera effigies,”—to which is added beneath, “Cujus nomen orbis continere non valet.” Although founded on originals by Titian himself, it was probably designed by the remarkable engraver. It is very like, and yet unlike, the familiar portrait of which we have a recent engraving by Mandel, from a repetition in the Gallery of Berlin. Looking at it, we are reminded of the terms by which Vasari described the great painter: “Giudizioso, bello e stupendo.”[151] Such a head, with such visible power, justifies these words, or at least makes us believe them entirely applicable. It is broad, bold, strong, and instinct with life.
This print, like the Erasmus of Dürer, is among those selected for exhibition at the British Museum; and it deserves the honor. Though only paper with black lines, it is, by the genius of the artist, as good as a picture. In all engraving nothing is better.
Contemporary with Caracci was Heinrich Goltzius, at Haarlem, excellent as painter, but, like the Italian, preëminent as engraver. His prints show mastery of the art, making something like an epoch in its history. His unwearied skill in the use of the burin appears in a tradition gathered by Longhi from Wille,—that, having commenced a line, he carried it to the end without once stopping, while the long and bright threads of copper turned up were brushed aside by his flowing beard, which at the end of a day’s labor so shone in the light of the candles, that his companions nicknamed him The Man with the Golden Beard.[152] There are prints by him which shine more than his beard. Among his masterpieces is the portrait of his instructor, Dirk Coornhert, engraver, poet, musician, and vindicator of his country, and author of the National air, “William of Nassau,” whose passion for Liberty did not prevent him from giving to the world translations of Cicero’s “Offices” and Seneca’s treatise on Beneficence. But the portrait of the engraver himself, as large as life, is one of the most important in the art. Among the numerous prints by Goltzius, these two will always be conspicuous.
In Holland Goltzius had eminent successors. Among these were Paulus Pontius, designer and engraver, whose portrait of Rubens is of great life and beauty, and Rembrandt, who was not less masterly in engraving than in painting, as appears sufficiently in his portraits of the Burgomaster Six, the two Coppenols, the Advocate Tolling, and the goldsmith Lutma, all showing singular facility and originality. Contemporary with Rembrandt was Cornelis de Visscher, also designer and engraver, whose portraits were unsurpassed in boldness and picturesque effect. At least one authority has accorded to this artist the palm of engraving, hailing him as “Coryphæus of the Art.”[153] Among his successful portraits is that of a Cat; but all yield to what are known as The Great Beards, being the portraits of Willem de Ryck, an ophthalmist at Amsterdam, and Gellius de Bouma, the Zutphen ecclesiastic. The latter is especially famous. In harmony with the beard is the heavy face, seventy-seven years old, showing the fulness of long-continued potations, and hands like the face, original and powerful, if not beautiful.
In contrast with Visscher was his countryman Van Dyck, who painted portraits with constant beauty, and carried into etching the same Virgilian taste and skill. His aquafortis was not less gentle than his pencil. Among his etched portraits I would select that of Snyders, the animal-painter, as supremely beautiful. M. Renouvier, in his learned and elaborate work, “Des Types et des Manières des Maîtres Graveurs,” though usually moderate in praise, speaks of these sketches as possessing “a boldness and a delicacy which charm, being taken at the height of the genius of the painter who best knew how to idealize portrait painting.”[154]
Such are illustrative instances from Germany, Italy, and Holland. As yet, power rather than beauty presided, unless in the etchings of Van Dyck. But the reign of Louis the Fourteenth was beginning to assert a supremacy in engraving as in literature. The great school of French engravers which appeared at this time brought the art to a splendid perfection, which many think has not been equalled since; so that Masson, Nanteuil, Edelinck, and Drevet may claim fellowship in genius with their immortal contemporaries, Corneille, Racine, La Fontaine, and Molière.
The school was opened by Claude Mellan, more known as engraver than painter, and also author of most of the designs he engraved. His life, beginning with the sixteenth century, was protracted to nearly ninety years, not without signal honor; for his name appears among the “Illustrious Men” of France, in the beautiful volumes of Perrault, which is also a homage to the art he practised. One of his works, for a long time much admired, was described by this author:—
“It is a head of Christ, designed and shaded with his crown of thorns, and the blood that trickles on all sides, by one single stroke, which, beginning at the tip of the nose, and continuing always in a curve, forms very exactly all that is represented in the plate, merely by the different thickness of this stroke, which, according as it is more or less broad, makes the eyes, nose, mouth, cheeks, hair, blood, and thorns; the whole so well represented, and with such expression of pain and affliction, that nothing is more sad or more touching.”[155]
This print is known as The Sudarium of Saint Veronica. Longhi records that it was thought at the time “inimitable,” and was “praised to the skies,”—adding, “But people think differently now.”[156] At best it is a curiosity among portraits. A traveller reported some time ago that it was the sole print on the walls of the room occupied by the Director of the Imperial Cabinet of Engravings at St. Petersburg.
Morin was a contemporary of Mellan, and less famous at the time. His style of engraving was peculiar, being a mixture of strokes and dots, but so harmonized as to produce a pleasing effect. One of the best engraved portraits in the history of the art is his Cardinal Bentivoglio; but here he translated Van Dyck, whose picture is among his best. A fine impression of this print is a choice possession.
Among French masters Antoine Masson is conspicuous for brilliant hardihood of style, which, though failing in taste, is powerful in effect. Metal, armor, velvet, feather, seem as if painted. He is also most successful in the treatment of hair. His immense skill made him welcome difficulties, as if to show his ability in overcoming them. His print of Henri de Lorraine, Comte d’Harcourt, known as Cadet à la Perle, from the pearl in the ear, with the date 1667, is often placed at the head of engraved portraits, although not particularly pleasing or interesting. The vigorous countenance is aided by the gleam and sheen of the various substances entering into the costume. Less powerful, but having a charm of its own, is that of Brisacier, known as The Gray-Haired Man, engraved in 1664. The remarkable representation of hair in this print has been a model for artists, especially for Longhi, who recounts that he copied it in his head of Washington.[157] Somewhat similar is the head of Charrier, the Criminal Judge at Lyons. Though inferior in hair, it surpasses the other in expression.
Nanteuil was an artist of different character, being to Masson as Van Dyck to Visscher, with less of vigor than beauty. His original genius was refined by classical studies and quickened by diligence. Though dying at the age of forty-eight, he had executed as many as two hundred and eighty plates, nearly all portraits. The favor he enjoyed during life has not diminished with time. His works illustrate the reign of Louis the Fourteenth, and are still admired. Among these are portraits of the King, Anne of Austria, Johan Baptist van Steenberghen, called The Advocate of Holland, a Heavy Dutchman, François de la Mothe-Le-Vayer, a fine and delicate work, Turenne, Colbert, Lamoignon, the poet Loret, Maridat de Serrière, Louise-Marie de Gonzague, Louis Hesselin, Christina of Sweden,—all masterpieces; but above these is the Pomponne de Bellièvre, foremost among his masterpieces, and a chief masterpiece of Art, being, in the judgment of more than one connoisseur, the most beautiful engraved portrait that exists. That excellent authority Dr. Thies, who knew engraving more thoroughly and sympathetically than any person I remember in our country, said, in a letter to myself, as long ago as March, 1858,—
“When I call Nanteuil’s Pomponne the handsomest engraved portrait, I express a conviction to which I came when I studied all the remarkable engraved portraits at the royal cabinet of engravings in Dresden, and at the large and exquisite collection there of the late King of Saxony, and in which I was confirmed, or perhaps to which I was led, by the director of the two establishments, the late Professor Frenzel.”
And after describing this head, the learned connoisseur proceeds:—
“There is an air of refinement (Vornehmheit) round the mouth and nose as in no other engraving. Color and life shine through the skin, and the lips appear red.”
It is bold, perhaps, thus to exalt a single portrait, giving to it the palm of Venus; nor do I know that it is entirely proper to classify portraits according to beauty. In disputing about beauty, we are too often lost in the variety of individual tastes; and yet each person knows when he is touched. In proportion as multitudes are touched, there must be merit. As in music a simple heart-melody is often more effective than any triumph over difficulties or bravura of manner, so in engraving, the sense of the beautiful may prevail over all else; and this is the case with the Pomponne, although there are portraits by others showing higher art.
No doubt there have been as handsome men, whose portraits were engraved, but not so well. I know not if Pomponne was what would be called a handsome man, although his air is noble and his countenance bright; but among portraits more boldly, delicately, or elaborately engraved, there are very few to contest the palm of beauty.[158]
And who is this handsome man to whom the engraver has given a lease of fame? Son, nephew, and grandson of high dignitaries in Church and State,—with two grandfathers Chancellors of France, two uncles Archbishops, his father President of the Parliament of Paris and Councillor of State,—himself at the head of the magistracy of France, First President of Parliament, according to an inscription on the engraving, Senatus Galliarum Princeps, Ambassador to Italy, Holland, and England, charged in the last-named country by Cardinal Mazarin with the impossible duty of making peace between the Long Parliament and Charles the First, and at his death great benefactor of the General Hospital of Paris, bestowing upon it riches and the very bed on which he died. Such is the simple catalogue; and yet it is all forgotten.
A Funeral Panegyric pronounced at his death, now before me in the original pamphlet of the time,[159] testifies to more than family or office. In himself he was much, and not of those who, according to the saying of Saint Bernard, “give out smoke rather than light.”[160] “Pure glory and innocent riches”[161] were his; and he was the more precious in the sight of all good men, that he showed himself incorruptible, and not to be bought at any price. It were easy for him to have turned a deluge of wealth into his house; but he knew that gifts insensibly entangle,—that the specious pretext of gratitude is the snare in which the greatest souls allow themselves to be caught,—that a man covered with favors has difficulty in setting himself against injustice in all its forms,—and that a magistrate divided between a sense of obligations received and the care of the public interest, which he ought always to promote, is a paralytic magistrate, a magistrate deprived of a moiety of himself. So spoke the preacher, while he portrayed a charity tender and effective for the wretched, a vehemence just and inflexible toward the dishonest and wicked, and a sweetness noble and beneficent for all; dwelling also on his countenance, which had nothing of that severe and sour austerity that renders justice to the good only as if with regret, and to the guilty only in anger; then on his pleasant and gracious address, his intellectual and charming conversation, his ready and judicious replies, his agreeable and intelligible silence,—even his refusals being well received and obliging,—while, amidst all the pomp and splendor accompanying him, there shone in his eyes a certain air of sweetness and majesty, which secured for him, and for justice itself, love as well as respect. His benefactions were constant. Not content with merely giving, he gave with a beautiful manner, still more rare. He could not abide beauty of intelligence without goodness of soul; and he preferred always the poor, having for them not only compassion, but a sort of reverence. He knew that the way to take the poison from riches was to let the poor taste of them. The sentiment of Christian charity for the poor, who were to him in the place of children, was his last thought,—as witness especially the General Hospital endowed by him, and represented by the preacher as the greatest and most illustrious work ever undertaken by charity the most heroic.
Thus lived and died the splendid Pomponne de Bellièvre, with no other children than his works. Celebrated at the time by a Funeral Panegyric now forgotten, and placed among the Illustrious Men of France in a work remembered only for its engraved portraits,[162] his famous life shrinks in the voluminous “Biographic Universelle” of Michaud to the sixth part of a single page, and in the later “Biographic Générale” of Didot disappears entirely. History forgets to mention him. But the lofty magistrate, ambassador, and benefactor, founder of a great hospital, cannot be entirely lost from sight so long as his portrait by Nanteuil holds a place in Art.
Younger than Nanteuil by ten years, Gerard Edelinck excelled him in genuine mastery. Born at Antwerp, he became French by adoption, occupying apartments in the Gobelins, and enjoying a pension from Louis the Fourteenth. Longhi says that he is “the engraver whose works, not only in my opinion, but in that of the best judges, deserve the first place among exemplars of the art”; and he attributes to him, “in a high degree, design, chiaroscuro, aërial perspective, local tints, softness, lightness, variety, in short everything which can form the most exact representation of the true and beautiful without the aid of color.” Others may have surpassed him in particular things, but, according to the Italian teacher, “he still remains by common consent the prince of engraving.”[163] Another critic calls him “king.”
It requires no remarkable knowledge to recognize his great merits. Evidently he is a master, exercising sway with absolute art, and without attempt to bribe the eye by special effects of light, as on metal or satin. Among his conspicuous productions is The Tent of Darius, a large engraving on two sheets, after Le Brun, where the family of the Persian monarch prostrate themselves before Alexander, who approaches with Hephæstion. There is also a Holy Family, after Raphael, and The Battle of the Standard, after Leonardo da Vinci. But these are less interesting than his numerous portraits, among which that of Philippe de Champagne is the chief masterpiece; and there are others of signal merit, including especially Madame Helyot, or La belle Religieuse, a beautiful French coquette praying before a crucifix; Martin van den Bogaert (Des Jardins,) the sculptor; Frédéric Léonard, Printer to the King; Mouton, the Lute-Player; Nathanael Dilgerus, with a venerable beard white with age; Jules Hardouin Mansart, the architect; also a portrait of Pomponne de Bellièvre, which will be found among the prints of Perrault’s “Illustrious Men.”
The Philippe de Champagne is the head of that eminent French artist after a painting by himself, and it contests the palm with the Pomponne. Mr. Marsh, who is an authority, prefers it. Dr. Thies, who places the latter first in beauty, is constrained to allow that the other is “superior as a work of the graver,” being executed with all the resources of the art in its chastest form. The enthusiasm of Longhi finds expression in unusual praise:—
“The work which goes most to my blood, and of which Edelinck himself was justly proud, is the portrait of Champagne. I shall die before I cease often to contemplate it with ever new wonder. Here is seen how he was equally great as designer and engraver.”[164]
And he then dwells on various details,—the bones, the skin, the flesh, the eyes living and seeing, the moistened lips, the chin covered with a beard unshaven for many days, and the hair in all its forms.
Between the rival portraits by Nanteuil and Edelinck it is unnecessary to decide. Each is beautiful. In looking at them we recognize anew the transient honors of public service. The present fame of Champagne surpasses that of Pomponne. The artist outlives the magistrate. But does not the poet tell us that “the artist never dies”?
As Edelinck passed from the scene the family of Drevet appeared, especially the son, Pierre Imbert Drevet, born in 1697, who developed a rare excellence, improving even upon the technics of his predecessor, and gilding his refined gold. The son was born engraver, for at the age of thirteen he produced an engraving of exceeding merit. Like Masson he manifested a singular skill in rendering different substances by the effect of light, and at the same time gave to flesh a softness and transparency which remain unsurpassed. To these he added great richness in picturing costumes and drapery, especially in lace.
He was eminently a portrait engraver, which I must insist is the highest form of the art, as the human face is the most important object for its exercise. Less clear and simple than Nanteuil, and less severe than Edelinck, he gave to the face individuality of character, and made his works conspicuous in Art. If there was excess in the accessories, it was before the age of Sartor Resartus, and he only followed the prevailing style in the popular paintings of Hyacinthe Rigaud. Art in all its forms had become florid, if not meretricious; and Drevet was a representative of his age.
Among his works are important masterpieces. I name only Bossuet, the famed Eagle of Meaux; Samuel Bernard, the rich Councillor of State; Fénelon, the persuasive teacher and writer; Cardinal Dubois, the unprincipled minister and favorite of the Regent of France; and Adrienne Le Couvreur, the beautiful and unfortunate actress, linked in love with Marshal Saxe. The portrait of Bossuet has everything to attract and charm. There stands the powerful defender of the Catholic Church, master of French style, and most renowned pulpit orator of France, in episcopal robes, with abundant lace, which is the perpetual envy of the fair who look at this transcendent effort. The ermine of Dubois is exquisite; but the general effect of this portrait does not compare with the Bossuet, next to which, in fascination, I put the Adrienne. At her death the actress could not be buried in consecrated ground; but through Art she has the perpetual companionship of the greatest bishop of France.
With the younger Drevet closed the classical period of portraits in engraving, as just before had closed the Augustan age of French literature. Louis the Fourteenth decreed engraving a Fine Art, and established an Academy for its cultivation. Pride and ostentation in the king and the great aristocracy created a demand, which the genius of the age supplied. The heights that had been reached could not be maintained. There were eminent engravers still, but the zenith had been passed. Balechou, who belonged to the reign of Louis the Fifteenth, and Beauvarlet, whose life was protracted beyond the Reign of Terror, both produced portraits of merit. The former is noted for a certain clearness and brilliancy, but with a hardness as of brass or marble, and without entire accuracy of design; the latter has much softness of manner. They were the best artists of France at the time, but none of their portraits are famous. To these may be added another contemporary artist, without predecessor or successor, Étienne Ficquet, unduly disparaged in one of the dictionaries as “a reputable French engraver,” but undoubtedly remarkable for small portraits, not unlike miniatures, of exquisite finish. Among these the rarest and most admired are La Fontaine, Madame de Maintenon, Rubens, and Van Dyck.
Two other engravers belong to this intermediate period, although not French in origin,—Georg Friedrich Schmidt, born at Berlin, 1712, and Johann Georg Wille, born near the small town of Königsberg, in the Grand Duchy of Hesse-Darmstadt, 1717, but, attracted to Paris, they became the greatest engravers of the time. Their work is French, and they are the natural development of that classical school.
Schmidt was the son of a poor weaver, and lost six precious years as a soldier in the artillery at Berlin. Owing to the smallness of his size he was at length dismissed, when he surrendered to a natural talent for engraving. Arriving at Strasburg, on his way to Paris, he fell in with Wille, who joined him in his journey, and eventually in his studies. The productions of Schmidt show ability, originality, and variety, rather than taste. His numerous portraits are excellent, being free and life-like, while the accessories of embroidery and drapery are rendered with effect. As an etcher he ranks next after Rembrandt. Of his portraits executed with the graver, that of the Empress Elizabeth of Russia is usually called the most important, perhaps on account of the imperial theme,—and next, those of Count Rasoumowsky, Count Esterhazy, and Mounsey, Court Physician, which he engraved while in St. Petersburg, whither he was called by the Empress, founding there the Academy of Engraving. But his real masterpieces are unquestionably Pierre Mignard and La Tour, French painters, the latter represented laughing.
Wille lived to old age, not dying till 1808. During this long life he was active in the art to which he inclined naturally. His mastery of the graver was perfect, lending itself especially to the representation of satin and metal, although less happy with flesh. His Satin Gown, or L’Instruction Paternelle, after Terburg, and Les Musiciens Ambulants, after Dietrich, are always admired. Nothing of the kind in engraving is finer. His style was adapted to pictures of the Dutch school, and to portraits with rich surroundings. Of the latter the principal are Comte de Saint-Florentin, Marquis Poisson de Marigny, Jean de Boullongne, and Cardinal de Tencin.
Especially eminent was Wille as a teacher. Under his influence the art assumed new life, so that he became father of the modern school. His scholars spread everywhere, and among them are acknowledged masters. He was teacher of Bervic, whose portrait of Louis the Sixteenth in his coronation robes is of a high order, himself teacher of the Italian Toschi, who, after an eminent career, died as late as 1858; also teacher of P. A. Tardieu, himself teacher of the brilliant Desnoyers, whose portrait of the Emperor Napoleon in his coronation robes is the fit complement to that of Louis the Sixteenth; also teacher of the German, J. G. von Müller, himself father and teacher of J. F. W. von Müller, engraver of the Sistine Madonna, in a plate whose great fame is not above its merit; also teacher of the Italian Vangelisti, himself teacher of the unsurpassed Longhi, in whose school were Anderloni and Jesi. Thus not only by his works, but by his famous scholars, did the humble gunsmith gain sway in Art.
Among portraits of this school deserving especial mention is that of King Jerome of Westphalia, brother of Napoleon, by the two Müllers above named, where the genius of the artists is most conspicuous, although the subject contributes little. As in the case of the Palace of the Sun, described by Ovid, “materiam superabat opus.”[165] This work is a beautiful example of skill in representation of fur and lace, not yielding even to Drevet.
Longhi was a universal master, and his portraits are only part of his work. That of Washington, which is rare, is evidently founded on Stuart’s painting, but after a design of his own, which is now in the possession of the Swiss Consul at Venice. The artist particularizes the hair, as being modelled after the French master Masson.[166] The portraits of Michel Angelo and Dandolo, the venerable Doge of Venice, are admired; so also is the Napoleon as King of Italy, with the iron crown and finest lace. But his chief portrait is that of Eugène Beauharnais, Viceroy of Italy, full length, remarkable for the plume in the cap, which is finished with surpassing skill.
Contemporary with Longhi was another Italian engraver of widely extended fame, who was not the product of the French school,—Raffaello Morghen, born at Portici in 1761. His works have enjoyed a popularity beyond those of other masters, partly from the interest of their subjects, and partly from their soft and captivating style, although they do not possess the graceful power of Nanteuil and Edelinck, and are without variety. He was scholar and son-in-law of Volpato, of Rome, himself scholar of Wagner, of Venice, whose homely round faces were not high models in Art. The Aurora of Guido and the Last Supper of Leonardo da Vinci stand high in engraving, especially the latter, which occupied Morghen three years. Of his two hundred and fifty-four works no less than eighty-five are portraits, among which are the Italian poets,—Dante, Petrarc, Ariosto, Tasso, also Boccaccio,—and a head called Raphael, but supposed to be that of Bindo Altoviti, the great painter’s friend,[167] and especially the Duke of Moncada on horseback, after Van Dyck, which has received warm praise. But none of his portraits is calculated to give greater pleasure than that of Leonardo da Vinci, which may vie in beauty even with the famous Pomponne. Here is the beauty of years and of serene intelligence. Looking at that tranquil countenance, it is easy to imagine the large and various capacities which made him not only painter, but sculptor, architect, musician, poet, discoverer, philosopher, even predecessor of Galileo and Bacon. Such a character deserves the immortality of Art. Happily, an old Venetian engraving, reproduced in our day,[168] enables us to see this same countenance at an earlier period of life with sparkle in the eye.
Raffaello Morghen left no scholars who have followed him in portraits; but his own works are still regarded, and a monument in Santa Croce, the Westminster Abbey of Florence, places him among the mighty dead of Italy.
Thus far nothing has been said of English engravers. Here, as in Art generally, England seems removed from the rest of the world,—“Et penitus toto divisos orbe Britannos.”[169] But though beyond the sphere of Continental Art, the island of Shakespeare was not inhospitable to some of its representatives. Van Dyck, Rubens, Sir Peter Lely, and Sir Godfrey Kneller, all Dutch artists, painted the portraits of Englishmen, and engraving was first illustrated by foreigners. Jacob Houbraken, another Dutch artist, born in 1698, was employed to execute portraits for Birch’s “Heads of Illustrious Persons of Great Britain,” published at London in 1743; and in these works may be seen the æsthetic taste inherited from his father, (the biographer of the Dutch artists,[170]) and improved by study of the French masters. Although without great force or originality of manner, many of these have positive beauty. I would name especially the Sir Walter Raleigh and John Dryden.
Different in style was Bartolozzi, the Italian, who made his home in England for forty years, ending in 1805, when he removed to Lisbon. The considerable genius which he possessed was spoiled by haste in execution, superseding that care which is an essential condition of Art. Hence sameness in his work, and indifference to the picture he copied. Longhi speaks of him as “most unfaithful to his archetypes,” and, “whatever the originals, being always Bartolozzi.”[171] Among his portraits of especial interest are several old wigs, as Mansfield and Thurlow; also the Death of Chatham, after the picture of Copley in the Vernon Gallery. But his prettiest piece undoubtedly is Mary, Queen of Scots, with her little Son, James the First, after what Mrs. Jameson calls “the lovely picture by Zuccaro at Chiswick.”[172] In the same style are his vignettes, which are of acknowledged beauty.
Meanwhile a Scotchman, honorable in Art, comes upon the scene,—Sir Robert Strange, born in the distant Orkneys in 1721, who abandoned the law for engraving. As a youthful Jacobite he joined the Pretender in 1745, sharing the disaster of Culloden, and owing his safety from pursuers to a young lady dressed in the ample costume of the period, whom he afterwards married in gratitude, and they were both happy. He has a style of his own, rich, soft, and especially charming in the tints of flesh, making him a natural translator of Titian. His most celebrated engravings are doubtless the Venus and the Danaë after the great Venetian colorist; but the Cleopatra, though less famous, is not inferior in merit. His acknowledged masterpiece is the Madonna of St. Jerome, called “The Day,” after the picture by Correggio in the Gallery of Parma; but his portraits after Van Dyck are not less fine, while they are more interesting,—as Charles the First, with a large hat, by the side of his horse, which the Marquis of Hamilton is holding; and that of the same monarch standing in his ermine robes; also the three royal children, with two King Charles spaniels at their feet; also Henrietta Maria, the Queen of Charles. That with the ermine robes is supposed to have been studied by Raffaello Morghen, called sometimes an imitator of Strange.[173] To these I would add the rare autograph portrait of the engraver, being a small head after Greuzé, which is simple and beautiful.
One other name will close this catalogue. It is that of William Sharp, who was born at London in 1746, and died there in 1824. Though last in order, this engraver may claim kindred with the best. His first essays were the embellishment of pewter pots, from which he ascended to the heights of Art, showing a power rarely equalled. Without any instance of peculiar beauty, his works are constant in character and expression, with every possible excellence of execution: face, form, drapery,—all are as in Nature. His splendid qualities appear in the Doctors of the Church, which has taken its place as the first of English engravings. It is after the picture of Guido, once belonging to the Houghton Gallery, which in an evil hour for English taste was allowed to enrich the collection of the Hermitage at St. Petersburg; and I remember well that this engraving by Sharp was one of the few ornaments in the drawing-room of Macaulay when I last saw him, shortly before his lamented death. Next to the Doctors of the Church is his Lear in the Storm, after the picture by West, now in the Boston Athenæum, and his Sortie from Gibraltar, after the picture by Trumbull, also in the Boston Athenæum. Thus, through at least two of his masterpieces whose originals are among us, is our country associated with this great artist.
It is of portraits especially that I write, and here Sharp is truly eminent. All he did was well done; but two are models,—that of Mr. Boulton, a strong, well-developed country gentleman, admirably executed, and of John Hunter, the eminent surgeon, after the painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds, in the London College of Surgeons, unquestionably the foremost portrait in English Art, and the coëqual companion of the great portraits in the past; but here the engraver united his rare gifts with those of the painter.
In closing these sketches I would have it observed that this is no attempt to treat of engraving generally, or of prints in their mass or types. The present subject is simply Portraits, and I stop now just as we arrive at contemporary examples, abroad and at home, with the gentle genius of Mandel beginning to ascend the sky, and our own engravers appearing on the horizon. There is also a new and kindred art, infinite in value, where the Sun himself becomes artist, with works which mark an epoch.
Washington, 11th Dec., 1871.
Note.—When Mr. Sumner began the publication of his Works in 1870, he engaged Mr. George Nichols, of Cambridge, to read the proofs editorially. This Mr. Nichols did, with great care and ability, until about ten days before his death, which occurred on the 6th of July, 1882. His work of supervision ended on p. 334 of this volume.
EQUALITY BEFORE THE LAW PROTECTED BY NATIONAL STATUTE.
Speeches in the Senate, on his Supplementary Civil Rights Bill, as an Amendment to the Amnesty Bill, January 15, 17, 31, February 5, and May 21, 1872.
Brave Theseus, they were Men like all before,
And human souls in human frames they bore,
With you to take their parts in earthly feasts,
With you to climb one heaven and sit immortal guests.
Statius, Thebaïd, tr. Kennett, Lib. XI.
I was fully convinced, that, whatever difference there is between the Negro and European in the conformation of the nose and the color of the skin, there is none in the genuine sympathies and characteristic feelings of our common nature.—Mungo Park, Travels in the Interior Districts of Africa, (London, 1816,) Vol. I. p. 80, Ch. 6.
The word Man is thought to carry somewhat of dignity in its sound; and we commonly make use of this, as the last and the most prevailing argument against a rude insulter, “I am not a beast, a dog, but I am a Man as well as yourself.” Since, then, human nature agrees equally to all persons, and since no one can live a sociable life with another who does not own and respect him as a Man, it follows, as a command of the Law of Nature, that every man esteem and treat another as one who is naturally his equal, or who is a Man as well as he.—Pufendorf, Law of Nature and Nations, tr. Kennett, Book III., Ch. 2, § 1.
Carrying his solicitude still farther, Charlemagne recommended to the bishops and abbots, that, in their schools, “they should take care to make no difference between the sons of serfs and of freemen, so that they might come and sit on the same benches to study grammar, music, and arithmetic.”—Guizot, History of France, tr. Black, (London, 1872,) Vol. I. p. 239.