MR. PRESIDENT,—The visitor to the House of Commons, as he paces the vestibule, stops with reverence before the marble statues of men who for two centuries of English history filled that famous chamber. There are twelve in all, each speaking to the memory as he spoke in life, beginning with the learned Selden and the patriot Hampden, with Falkland so sweet and loyal, Somers so great as defender of constitutional liberty, and embracing in the historic group the silver-tongued Murray, the two Pitts, father and son, masters of eloquence, Fox, always first in debate, and that orator whose speeches contribute to the wealth of English literature, Edmund Burke.
In the lapse of time, as our history extends, similar monuments will illustrate the approach to our House of Representatives, arresting the reverence of the visitor. If our group is confined to those whose fame has been won in the House alone, it will be small; for members of the House are mostly birds of passage, only perching on the way to another place. Few remain so as to become identified with the House, or their service there is forgotten in the blaze of service elsewhere,—as was the case with Madison, Marshall, Clay, Webster, and Lincoln. It is not difficult to see who will find a place in this small company. There must be a statue of Josiah Quincy, whose series of eloquent speeches is the most complete of our history before Webster pleaded for Greece,—and also a statue of Joshua R. Giddings, whose faithful championship of Freedom throughout a long and terrible conflict makes him one of the great names of our country. And there must be a statue of Thaddeus Stevens, who was perhaps the most remarkable character identified with the House, unless we except John Quincy Adams; but the fame of the latter is not of a Representative alone, for he was already illustrious from various service before he entered the House.
All of these hated Slavery, and labored for its overthrow. On this account they were a mark for obloquy, and were generally in a minority. Already compensation has begun. As the cause they upheld so bravely is exalted, so is their fame. By the side of their far-sighted, far-reaching, and heroic efforts, how diminutive is all that was done by others at the time! How vile the spirit that raged against them!
Stevens was a child of New England, as were Quincy and Adams; but, after completing his education, he found a home in Pennsylvania, which had already given birth to Giddings. If this great central State can claim one of these remarkable men by adoption only, it may claim the other by maternity. Their names are among its best glories.
Two things Stevens did for his adopted State, by which he repaid largely all her hospitality and favor. He taught her to cherish Education for the People, and he taught her respect for Human Rights. The latter lesson was slower learned than the former. In the prime of life, when his faculties were in their highest vigor, he became conspicuous for earnest effort, crowned by most persuasive speech, whose echoes have not yet died away, for those Common Schools, which, more even than railways, are handmaids of civilization, besides being the true support of republican government. His powerful word turned the scale, and a great cause was won. This same powerful word was given promptly and without hesitation to that other cause, suffering then from constant and most cruel outrage. Here he stood always like a pillar. Suffice it to say that he was one of the earliest of Abolitionists, accepting the name and bearing the reproach. Not a child in Pennsylvania, conning a spelling-book beneath the humble rafters of a village school, who does not owe him gratitude; not a citizen, rejoicing in that security obtained only in liberal institutions founded on the Equal Rights of All, who is not his debtor.
When he entered Congress, it was as champion. His conclusions were already matured, and he saw his duty plain before him. The English poet foreshadows him, when he pictures
“one in whom persuasion and belief
Had ripened into faith, and faith become
A passionate intuition.”[1]