Let us consider the party. A political party cannot be better than its ideal; in fact, it is good in proportion as its ideal is worthy, and its place in history is determined by its adherence to a high purpose. The party is made for its members, not the members for the party; and a party is useful, therefore, only as it is a means through which one may protect his rights, guard his interests and promote the public welfare. The best service that a man can render his party is to raise its ideals. He basely betrays his party's hopes and is recreant to his duty to his party associates who seeks to barter away a noble party purpose for temporary advantages or for the spoils of office. It would be a reflection upon the intelligence and patriotism of the people to assert, or even to assume, that lasting benefit could be secured for a party by the lowering of its standards. He serves his party most loyally who serves his country most faithfully; it is a fatal error to suppose that a party can be permanently benefited by a betrayal of the people's interests.
In every act of party life and party strife we weigh the soul. That the people have a right to have what they want in government is a fundamental principle in free government. Corruption in government comes from the attempt to substitute the will of a minority for the will of the majority. Every important measure that comes up for consideration involves justice and injustice—right and wrong—and is, therefore, a question of conscience. As justice is the basis of a nation's strength and gives it hope of perpetuity, and, as the seeds of decay are sown whenever injustice enters into government, patriotism as well as conscience leads us to analyze every public question, ascertain the moral principle involved and then cast our influence, whether it be great or small, on the side of justice.
The patriot must desire the triumph of that which is right above the triumph of that which he may think to be right if he is, in fact, mistaken; and so the partizan, if he be an intelligent partizan, must be prepared to rejoice in his party's defeat if by that defeat his country is the gainer. One can afford to be in a minority, but he cannot afford to be wrong; if he is in a minority and right, he will some day be in the majority.
The activities of politics center about the election of candidates to office, and the official, under our system, represents both the party to which he belongs and the whole body of his constituency. He has two temptations to withstand; first, the temptation to substitute his own judgment for the judgment of his constituents, and second, the temptation to put his pecuniary interests above the interests of those for whom he acts. According to the aristocratic idea, the representative thinks for his constituents; according to the Democratic idea, the representative thinks with his constituents. A representative has no right to defeat the wishes of those who elect him, if he knows their wishes.
But a representative is not liable to knowingly misrepresent his constituents unless he has pecuniary interests adverse to theirs. This is the temptation to be resisted—this is the sin to be avoided. The official who uses his position to secure a pecuniary advantage over the public is an embezzler of power—and an embezzler of power is as guilty of moral turpitude as the embezzler of money. There is no better motto for the public official than that given by Solomon: "A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold." There is no better rule for the public official to follow than this—to do nothing that he would not be willing to have printed in the newspaper next day.
One who exercises authority conferred upon him by the suffrages of his fellows ought to be fortified in his integrity by the consciousness of the fact that a betrayal of his trust is hurtful to the party which honours him and unjust to the people whom he serves, as well as injurious to himself. Nothing that he can gain, not even the whole world, can compensate him for the loss that he suffers in the surrender of a high ideal of public duty.
In conclusion, let me say that the nation, as well as the individual, and the party, must be measured by its purpose, its ideals and its service. "Let him who would be chiefest among you, be the servant of all," was intended for nations as well as for citizens. Our nation is the greatest in the world and the greatest of all time, because it is rendering a larger service than any other nation is rendering or has rendered. It is giving the world ideals in education, in social life, in government, and in religion. It is the teacher of nations; it is the world's torch-bearer. Here the people are more free than elsewhere to "try all things and hold fast that which is good"; "to know the truth" and to find freedom in that knowledge. No material considerations should blind us to our nation's mission, or turn us aside from the accomplishment of the great work which has been reserved for us. Our fields bring forth abundantly and the products of our farms furnish food for many in the Old World. Our mills and looms supply an increasing export, but these are not our greatest asset. Our most fertile soil is to be found in the minds and the hearts of our people; our most important manufacturing plants are not our factories, with their smoking chimneys, but our schools, our colleges and our churches, which take in a priceless raw material and turn out the most valuable finished product that the world has known.
We enjoy by inheritance, or by choice, the blessings of American citizenship; let us not be unmindful of the obligations which these blessings impose. Let us not become so occupied in the struggle for wealth or in the contest for honours as to repudiate the debt that we owe to those who have gone before us and to those who bear with us the responsibilities that rest upon the present generation. Society has claims upon us; our country makes demands upon our time, our thought and our purpose. We cannot shirk these duties without disgrace to ourselves and injury to those who come after us. If one is tempted to complain of the burdens borne by American citizens, let him compare them with the much larger burdens imposed by despots upon their subjects.
I challenge the doctrine, now being taught, that we must enter into a mad rivalry with the Old World in the building of battleships—the doctrine that the only way to preserve peace is to get ready for wars that ought never to come! It is a barbarous, brutal, un-Christian doctrine—the doctrine of the darkness, not the doctrine of the dawn.
Nation after nation, when at the zenith of its power, has proclaimed itself invincible because its army could shake the earth with its tread and its ships could fill the seas, but these nations are dead, and we must build upon a different foundation if we would avoid their fate.