It is treating this case with a levity which it is hard to pardon, when Senators argue that the father was not under obligations to exercise all the paternal power in restraint of his son, or at least in denouncing him to the proper authorities. What is patriotism, what is the sacred comprehensive charity of country, if a father can be blameless after such a license to his son? The country was another mother to this son, and he went away to strike this mother on the bosom. There is a case in antiquity which illustrates the solemn duty of the father at least to detain the son. I quote from Sallust. This remarkable writer, in his history of the Catilinarian conspiracy, tells us that there were many not enlisted in the conspiracy who went out to join Catiline; that among these was Aulus Fulvius, the son of a Senator; and the historian adds, without comment, that the father, when his son was brought back, ordered him to be slain: “Fuere tamen extra conjurationem complures, qui ad Catilinam profecti sunt: in his A. Fulvius, Senatoris filius; quem retractum ex itinere parens necari jussit.”[88] Humanity rejects the barbarous exercise of the paternal power according to the Roman Law; but patriotism may find even in this example a lesson of paternal duty. The American father should not have slain his son, but he should have kept him from joining the enemies of his country. This requirement of duty was none the less strong because not enforced by death. I utter not only the rule of patriotism, but the rule of law, when I say that it was positive and peremptory. I will not admit that an American citizen can be blameless who dismisses a son from the paternal roof with money in his purse, to make war upon his country. All that the son did afterward, all that the son sought to do, became the act of the father who sent him forth on his parricidal errand. The father’s treason was continued and protracted in the treason of the son.
In making this contribution to the Rebellion, the act of the father was enhanced by his eminent position. He had held a seat in the Cabinet, binding him more than any common citizen to the most watchful allegiance, and giving to what he did peculiar importance. A soldier contributed to the Rebellion by such a person was a startling event. It was aid and comfort, countenance and encouragement, of far-reaching significance. It was a hostile act, directly injurious to his country, and of evil example, the influence of which no man can measure. How many others were weakened in loyalty by this parricidal act who can tell? When the citizen who has enjoyed public trust and been a “pillar of State” gives way, others about him must fall likewise. So great a parricide must cause other parricides.
And now this father, who gave a son to the Rebellion, comes into this sanctuary of the Constitution, where loyalty is the first condition of admission, and asks for a seat. Immo in Senatum venit. Is there not hardihood in the application? Of course, he cannot be admitted without your act having an influence proportioned to the importance of the position. It will be felt everywhere throughout the country. Admit him, and you will unloose the bonds of loyalty and give a new license to the Rebellion in its protracted struggle. On the contrary, if you send him away, you will furnish a warning to the disloyal, and teach a lesson of patriotism which will thrill the hearts of good citizens now anxiously watching for peace and reconciliation through the triumph of loyalty.
I speak this positively, because on this case I see no doubt. The facts are indisputable, and over all towers one supreme act of parricide, for which there can be no excuse or apology. A soldier was contributed to the enemies of his country. There is no question of motive. The parricidal act was complete, and it explains itself. There is no doubt that it was done. In the presence of such an act, so absolutely criminal, there can be no room for inquiry as to the motive. All this I put aside and look only at the transcendent fact, in which all pretence of innocence is so entirely lost and absorbed that it cannot be seen. As well seek to find a motive, if a son struck at the bosom of his mother. The law supplies the motive, when it says, in its ancient phrase, “moved and seduced by the instigation of the Devil.”
Some there are who doubt the motive of the father, and claim for him now the benefit of that doubt. Even if the motive of this criminal act were in question, as I insist that it cannot be, then do I say, that, in a case like this, when disloyalty is to be shut out of this Chamber, I give the benefit of doubt to my country.
There is another voice which sometimes reaches me. We are told, that, if the applicant be disloyal, then we may expel him. For myself, I prefer to take no such risk. Viewing the case as I do, I have no right to take any such risk. Disloyalty must be met at the door, and not allowed to enter in. The old verses, more than once repeated in our public discussions, are applicable now,—never more so:—
“I hear a lion in the lobby roar:
Say, Mr. Speaker, shall we shut the door,
And keep him there? or shall we let him in,
To try if we can turn him out again?”[89]