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]
Slavery was wrong, and he would not tolerate it. Slave-masters,
brimming with Slavery, were imperious and lawless. From him they
learned to see themselves as others saw them. Strong in his cause
and in the consciousness of power, he did not shrink from encounter;
and when it was joined, he used not only argument and history, but
all those other weapons by which a bad cause is exposed to scorn
and contempt. Nobody said more in fewer words, or gave to language a
sharper bite. Speech was with him at times a cat-o’-nine-tails, and woe
to the victim on whom the terrible lash descended!
Does any one doubt the justifiableness of such debate? Sarcasm, satire,
and ridicule are not given in vain. They have an office to perform in
the economies of life. They are faculties to be employed prudently in
support of truth and justice. A good cause is helped, if its enemies
are driven back; and it cannot be doubted that the supporters of wrong
and the procrastinators shrank often before the weapons he wielded.
Soft words turn away wrath; but there is a time for strong words as for
soft words. Did not the Saviour seize the thongs with which to drive
the money-changers from the Temple? Our money-changers long ago planted
themselves within our temple. Was it not right to lash them away? Such
an exercise of power in a generous cause must not be confounded with
that personality of debate which has its origin in nothing higher than
irritability, jealousy, or spite. In this sense Thaddeus Stevens was
never personal. No personal thought or motive controlled him. What he
said was for his country and mankind.
As the Rebellion assumed its giant proportions, he saw clearly that
it could be smitten only through Slavery; and when, after a bloody
struggle, it was too tardily vanquished, he saw clearly that there
could be no true peace, except by new governments built on the Equal
Rights of All. And this policy he urged with a lofty dogmatism as
beneficent as uncompromising. The Rebels had burned his property in
Pennsylvania, and there were weaklings who attributed his conduct to
smart at pecuniary loss. How little they understood his nature! Injury
provokes and sometimes excuses resentment. But it was not in him to
allow private grief to influence public conduct. The losses of the
iron-master were forgotten in the duties of the statesman. He asked
nothing for himself. He did not ask his own rights, except as the
Rights of Man.
I know not if he could be called orator. Perhaps, like Fox, he were
better called debater. And yet I doubt if words were ever delivered
with more effect than when, broken with years and decay, he stood
before the Senate and in the name of the House of Representatives
and of all the people of the United States impeached Andrew Johnson,
President of the United States, of high crimes and misdemeanors in
office. Who can forget his steady, solemn utterance of this great
arraignment? The words were few, but they will sound through the ages.
The personal triumph in his position at that moment was merged in the
historic grandeur of the scene. For a long time, against opposition of
all kinds, against misconceptions of the law, and against apologies for
transactions without apology, he had insisted on impeachment; and now
this old man, tottering to your door, dragged the Chief Magistrate of
the Republic to judgment. It was he who did this thing; and I should do
poor justice to his life, if on this occasion I failed to declare my
gratitude for the heroic deed. His merit is none the less because other
influences prevailed in the end. His example will remain forever.
In the House, which was the scene of his triumphs, I never heard him
but once; and I cannot forget the noble eloquence of that brief speech.
I was there by accident just as he rose. He did not speak more than
ten minutes, but every sentence seemed an oration. With unhesitating
plainness he arraigned Pennsylvania for her denial of equal rights
to an oppressed race, and, rising with the theme, declared that this
State had not a republican government.[2] His explicitness was the more
striking because he was a Representative of Pennsylvania. Nobody, who
has considered with any care what constitutes a republican government,
especially since the definition supplied by our Declaration of
Independence, can doubt that he was right. His words will live as the
courageous testimony of a great character on this important question.
The last earnest object of his life was the establishment of Equal
Rights throughout the whole country by the recognition of the
requirement of the Declaration of Independence. I have before me two
letters in which he records his convictions, which are perhaps more
weighty because the result of most careful consideration, when age
had furnished experience and tempered the judgment. “I have,” says
he, “long, and with such ability as I could command, reflected upon
the subject of the Declaration of Independence, and finally have
come to the sincere conclusion that Universal Suffrage was one of
the inalienable rights intended to be embraced in that instrument.”
It is difficult to see how there can be hesitation on this point,
when the great title-deed expressly says that governments derive
their just powers from the consent of the governed. But this is not
the only instance in which he was constrained by the habits of that
profession which he practised so successfully. A great Parliamentarian
of France has said: “The more one is a lawyer, the less he is a
Senator,”--_Plus on est avocat, moins on est Sénateur._ If Stevens
reached his conclusion slowly, it was because he had not completely
emancipated himself from that technical reasoning which is the boast
of the lawyer rather than of the statesman. The pretension that the
power to determine the “qualifications” of voters embraced the power to
exclude for color, and that this same power to exclude for color was
included in the asserted power of the States to make “regulations” for
the elective franchise, seems at first to have deceived him; as if it
were not insulting to reason and shocking to the moral sense to suppose
that any unalterable physical condition, such as color of hair, eyes,
or skin, could be a “qualification,”--and as if it were not equally
offensive to suppose, that, under a power to determine “qualifications”
or to make “regulations,” a race could be disfranchised. Of course this
whole pretension is a technicality set up against Human Rights. Nothing
can be plainer than that a technicality may be employed in favor of
Human Rights, but never against them. Stevens came to his conclusion
at last, and rested in it firmly. His final aspiration was to see it
prevail. He had seen much for which he had striven embodied in the
institutions of his country. He had seen Slavery abolished. He had seen
the freedman of the National Capital lifted to equality of political
rights by Act of Congress; he had seen the colored race throughout
the whole land lifted to equality of civil rights by Act of Congress.
It only remained that he should see them throughout the whole land
lifted to the same equality in political rights; and then the promises
of the Declaration of Independence would be all fulfilled. But he was
called away before this final triumph. A great writer of Antiquity, a
perpetual authority, tells us that “the chief duty of friends is not to
follow the departed with idle lamentation, but to remember their wishes
and to execute their commands.”[3] These are the words of Tacitus. I
venture to add that we shall best honor him we now celebrate, if we
adopt his aspiration and strive for its fulfilment.
It is as Defender of Human Rights that Thaddeus Stevens deserves
homage. Here he is supreme. On other questions he erred. On the
finances his errors were signal. But history will forget these and
other failings, as it bends with reverence before the exalted labors
by which humanity has been advanced. Already he takes his place among
illustrious names which are the common property of mankind. I see
him now, as so often during life. His venerable form moves slowly
and with uncertain steps; but the gathered strength of years is in
his countenance, and the light of victory on his path. Politician,
calculator, timeserver, stand aside! A hero-statesman passes to his
reward.