Sir, I doubt if you consider enough the character of the edifice in which we are assembled. Possessing the advantage of an incomparable situation, it is among the first-class structures of the world. Surrounded by an amphitheatre of hills, with the Potomac at its feet, it may remind you of the Capitol in Rome, with the Alban and the Sabine hills in sight, and with the Tiber at its feet. But the situation is grander than that of the Roman Capitol. The edifice itself is not unworthy of the situation. It has beauty of form and sublimity in proportion, even if it lacks originality in conception. In itself it is a work of art. It should not receive in the way of ornamentation anything which is not a work of art. Unhappily, this rule is too often forgotten, or there would not be so few pictures and marbles about us which we are glad to recognize. But bad pictures and ordinary marbles warn us against adding to their number.
Pardon me, if I call attention for one moment to the few works of art in the Capitol which we might care to preserve. Beginning with the Vice-President’s room, which is nearest, we find an excellent and finished portrait of Washington, by Peale. This is much less known than the familiar portrait by Stuart, but it is well worthy to be cherished. I never enter that room without feeling its presence. Traversing the corridors, we find ourselves in the spacious rotunda, where are four pictures by Trumbull, truly historic in character, by which great scenes live again before us. These works have a merit of their own which will always justify the place they occupy. Mr. Randolph, with ignorant levity, once characterized that which represents the signing of the Declaration of Independence as a “shin-piece.” He should have known that there is probably no picture, having so many portraits, less obnoxious to such a gibe. If these pictures do not belong to the highest art, they can never fail in interest for the patriot citizen, while the artist will not be indifferent to them. One other picture in the rotunda is not without merit: I refer to the Landing of the Pilgrims, by Weir, where there is a certain beauty of color and a religious sentiment: but this picture has always seemed to me exaggerated, rather than natural. Passing from the rotunda to the House of Representatives, we stand before a picture which, as a work of art, is perhaps the choicest of all in the Capitol. It is the portrait of Lafayette, by that consummate artist, who was one of the glories of France, Ary Scheffer. He sympathized with our institutions; and this portrait of the early friend of our country was a present from the artist to the people of the United States. Few who look at it, by the side of the Speaker’s chair, are aware that it is the production of the rare genius which gave to mankind the Christus Consolator and the Francesca da Rimini.
Turning from painting to sculpture, we find further reason for caution. The lesson is taught especially by that work of the Italian Persico, on the steps of the Capitol, called by him Columbus, but called by others “a man rolling nine-pins,”—for the attitude and the ball he holds suggest this game. Near to this is a remarkable group by Greenough, where the early settler is struggling with the savage; while opposite in the yard is the statue of Washington by the same artist, which has found little favor because it is nude, but which shows a mastery of art. There also are the works of Crawford,—the alto-rilievo which fills the pediment over the great door of the Senate Chamber, and the statue of Liberty which looks down from the top of the dome,—attesting a genius that must always command admiration. There are other statues, by a living artist. There are also the bronze doors by Rogers, on which he labored long and well. They belong to a class of which there are only a few specimens in the world, and I have sometimes thought they might vie with those famous doors at Florence, which Michel Angelo hailed as worthy to be the gates of Paradise. Our artist has pictured the whole life of Columbus in bronze, while portraits of contemporary princes, and of great authors who have illustrated the life of the great discoverer, add to the completeness of this artistic work.
Now, Sir, the chambers of the Capitol are to open again for the reception of a work of art. It is to be the statue of our martyred President. He deserves a statue, and it should be here in Washington. But you cannot expect to have, even of him, more than one statue here in Washington. Such a repetition or reduplication would be out of place. It would be too much. There is one statue of Washington. There is also a statue of Jefferson: I refer to the excellent statue in front of the Executive Mansion, by the French sculptor, David. There is also one statue of Jackson. It is now proposed to add a statue of Lincoln. I suppose you do not contemplate two statues, or three, but only one. Who now shall make that one, to find hospitality in the National Capitol? Surely, whoever undertakes the work must be of ripe genius, with ample knowledge of art, and of unquestioned capacity,—the whole informed and inspired by a prevailing sympathy with the martyr and the cause for which he lived and died. Are you satisfied that this youthful candidate, without ripeness of genius or ample knowledge of art or unquestioned capacity, and not so situated as to feel the full inspiration of his life and character, should receive this remarkable trust? She has never made a statue. Shall she experiment on the historic dead, and place her attempt under this dome? I am unwilling. When the statue of that beloved President is set up here, where we shall look upon it daily, and gather from it courage and consolation, I wish it to be a work of art in truth and reality, with living features animated by living soul, so that we shall all hail it as the man immortal by his life, doubly immortal through art. Anything short of this, even if through your indulgence it finds a transient resting-place here, will be removed whenever a correct taste asserts its just prerogative.
Therefore, Sir, for the sake of economy, that you may not heedlessly lavish the national treasure,—for the sake of this Capitol, itself a work of art, that it may not have anything in the way of ornamentation which is not a work of art,—for the sake of the martyred President, whose statue should be by a finished artist,—and for the sake of art throughout the whole country, that we may not set a pernicious example,—I ask you to reject this resolution. When I speak for art generally, I open a tempting theme; but I forbear. Suffice it to say that art throughout the whole country must suffer, if Congress crowns with its patronage anything which is not truly artistic. By such patronage you will discourage where you ought to encourage.
Mr. President, I make these remarks with sincere reluctance; I am distressed in making them; but such an appropriation, engineered so vigorously, and having in its support such a concerted strength, must be met plainly and directly. Do not condemn the frankness you compel. If you wish to bestow a charity or a gift, do it openly, without pretence of any patronage bestowed upon art, or pretence of homage to a deceased President. Bring forward your resolution appropriating $10,000 to this youthful candidate. This I can deal with. I can listen to your argument for charity, and I assure you that I shall never be insensible to it. But when you propose this large sum for a work of art in the National Capitol in memory of the illustrious dead, I am obliged to consider the character of the artist. I wish it were otherwise, but I cannot help it.
The remarks of Mr. Sumner were opposed by Mr. Nesmith, of Oregon, Mr. McDougall and Mr. Conness, of California, Mr. Yates and Mr. Trumbull, of Illinois, Mr. Wade, of Ohio, and Mr. Cowan, of Pennsylvania. In the course of the debate, Mr. Edmunds, of Vermont, moved an amendment, requiring, that, before the first instalment of $5,000 should be paid, the model should be to the “acceptance” of the Secretary of the Interior. On this motion Mr. Sumner spoke again.
I think this amendment had better be adopted. It is only a reasonable precaution. The Senator from Wisconsin [Mr. Howe] alluded to a contract with Mr. Stone. He is a known sculptor, whose works are at the very doors of the Senate Chamber. The committee who employed him must have been perfectly aware of his character. When they entered into a contract with him, there was no element of chance; they knew what they were contracting for. But in the present case there is nothing but chance, if there be not the certainty of failure.