What can overturn such a proof as this? Surely a good man might,

without superstition, believe that such a union of events was something

more than natural, and that a Divine Providence was watchful for the

protection of innocence and truth.

I may now, therefore, relieve you from the pain of hearing me any

longer, and be myself relieved from speaking on a subject which

agitates and distresses me. Since Lord George Gordon stands clear of

every hostile act or purpose against the Legislature of his country, or

the properties of his fellow-subjects--since the whole tenor of conduct

repels the belief of the _traitorous intention_ charged by the

indictment--my task is finished. I shall make no address to your

passions. I will not remind you of the long and rigorous imprisonment

he has suffered; I will not speak to you of his great youth, of his

illustrious birth, and of his uniformly animated and generous zeal in

Parliament for the Constitution of his country. Such topics might be

useful in the balance; yet, even then, I should have trusted to the

honest hearts of Englishmen to have felt them without excitation. At

present, the plain and rigid rules of justice and truth are sufficient

to entitle me to your verdict.

PRONOUNCING SENTENCE FOR HIGH TREASON

BY SIR ALFRED WILLS

Arthur Alfred Lynch, otherwise Arthur Lynch, the jury have found you

guilty of the crime of high treason, a crime happily so rare that in

the present day a trial for treason seems to be almost an anachronism--

a thing of the past. The misdeeds which have been done in this case,

and which have brought you to the lamentable pass in which you stand,

must surely convince the most skeptical and apathetic of the gravity

and reality of the crime. What was your action in the darkest hour of

your country's fortunes, when she was engaged in the deadly struggle

from which she has just emerged? You joined the ranks of your country's

foes. Born in Australia, a land which has nobly shown its devotion to

its parent country, you have indeed taken a different course from that

which was adopted by her sons. You have fought against your country,

not with it. You have sought, as far as you could, to dethrone Great

Britain from her place among the nations, to make her name a byword and

a reproach, a synonym for weakness and irresolution. Nor can I forget

that you have shed the blood, or done your best to shed the blood, of

your countrymen who were fighting for their country. How many wives

have been made widows, how many children orphans, by what you and those

who acted under your command have done, Heaven only knows! You thought

it safe at that dark hour of the Empire's fate, when Ladysmith, when

Kimberley, when Mafeking, were in the very jaws of deadly peril--you

thought it safe, no doubt, to lift the parricidal hand against your

country. You thought she would shrink from the costly struggle wearied

out by her gigantic efforts, and that, at the worst, a general peace

would be made which would comprehend a general amnesty and cover up

such acts as yours and save you from personal peril. You misjudged your

country and failed to appreciate that, though slow to enter into a

quarrel, however slow to take up arms, it has yet been her wont that in

the quarrel she shall bear herself so that the opposer may beware of

her, and that she is seldom so dangerous to her enemies as when the

hour of national calamity has raised the dormant energies of her

people--knit together every nerve and fiber of the body politic, and

has made her sons determined to do all, to sacrifice all on behalf of

the country that gave them birth. And against what a Sovereign and what

a country did you lift your hand! A Sovereign the best beloved and most

deeply honored of all the long line of English Kings and Queens, and

whose lamented death was called back to my remembrance only yesterday

as a fresh sorrow to many an English household. Against a country which

has been the home of progress and freedom, and under whose beneficent

sway, whenever you have chosen to stay within her dominions, you have

enjoyed a liberty of person, a freedom of speech and action, such as

you can have in no other country in Europe, and it is not too much to

say in no other country in the world. The only--I will not say excuse,

but palliation that I can find for conduct like yours is that it has

been for some years past the fashion to treat lightly matters of this

kind, so that men have been perhaps encouraged to play with sedition

and to toy with treason, wrapt in a certain proud consciousness of

strength begotten of the deep-seated and well-founded conviction that

the loyalty of her people is supreme, and true authority in this

country has slumbered or has treated with contemptuous indifference

speeches and acts of sedition. It may be that you have been misled into

the notion that, no matter what you did, so long as your conduct could

be called a political crime, it was of no consequence. But it is one

thing to talk sedition and to do small seditious acts, it is quite

another thing to bear arms in the ranks of the foes of your country,

and against it. Between the two the difference is immeasurable. But had

you and those with whom you associated yourself succeeded, what fatal

mischief might have been done to the great inheritance which has been

bequeathed to us by our forefathers--that inheritance of power which it

must be our work to use nobly and for good things; an inheritance of

influence which will be of little effect even for good unless backed by

power, and of duty which cannot be effectually performed if our power

be shattered and our influence impaired. He who has attempted to do his

country such irreparable wrong must be prepared to submit to the

sentence which it is now my duty to pronounce upon you. The sentence of

this Court--and it is pronounced in regard to each count of the

indictment--is that you be taken hence to the place from which you

came, and from thence to a place of execution, there to be hanged by

the neck until you are dead.

THE IMPEACHMENT OF ANDREW JOHNSON

From the Official Records of the Trial in the United States Senate,

1868

BY GEORGE S. BOUTWELL

Andrew Johnson has disregarded and violated the laws and Constitution

of his own country. Under his administration the government has not

been strengthened, but weakened. Its reputation and influence at home

and abroad have been injured and diminished. Ten States of this Union

are without law, without security, without safety; public order

everywhere violated, public justice nowhere respected; and all in

consequence of the evil purposes and machinations of the President.

Forty millions of people have been rendered anxious and uncertain as to

the preservation of public peace and the perpetuity of the institutions

of freedom in this country. All classes are oppressed by the private

and public calamities which he has brought upon them. They appeal to

you for relief. The nation waits in anxiety for the conclusion of these

proceedings. Forty millions of people, whose interest in public affairs

is in the wise and just administration of the laws, look to this

tribunal as a sure defense against the encroachments of a criminally

minded Chief Magistrate.

Will any one say that the heaviest judgment which you can render is any

adequate punishment for these crimes? Your office is not punishment,

but to secure the safety of the republic. But human tribunals are

inadequate to punish those criminals who, as rulers or magistrates, by

their example, conduct, policy, and crimes, become the scourge of

communities and nations. No picture, no power of the imagination, can

illustrate or conceive the suffering of the poor but loyal people of

the South. A patriotic, virtuous, law-abiding chief magistrate would

have healed the wounds of war, soothed private and public sorrows,

protected the weak, encouraged the strong, and lifted from the Southern

people the burdens which now are greater than they can bear.

Travelers and astronomers inform us that in the southern heavens, near

the southern cross, there is a vast space which the uneducated call the

hole in the sky, where the eye of man, with the aid of the powers of

the telescope, has been unable to discover nebulae, or asteroid, or

comet, or planet, or star, or sun. In that dreary, cold, dark region of

space, which is only known to be less than infinite by the evidences of

creation elsewhere, the Great Author of celestial mechanism has left

the chaos which was in the beginning. If this earth were capable of the

sentiments and emotions of justice and virtue, which in human mortal

beings are the evidences and the pledge of our Divine origin and

immortal destiny, it would heave and throw, with the energy of the

elemental forces of nature, and project this enemy of two races of men

into that vast region, there forever to exist in a solitude eternal as

life, or as the absence of life, emblematical of, if not really, that

"outer darkness" of which the Savior of man spoke in warning to those

who are the enemies of themselves, of their race, and of their God. But

it is yours to relieve, not to punish. This done and our country is

again advanced in the intelligent opinion of mankind. In other

governments an unfaithful ruler can be removed only by revolution,

violence, or force. The proceeding here is judicial, and according to

the forms of law. Your judgment will be enforced without the aid of a

policeman or a soldier. What other evidence will be needed of the value

of republican institutions? What other test of the strength and vigor

of our government? What other assurance that the virtue of the people

is equal to any emergency of national life?

BY WILLIAM M. EVARTS

Mr. Chief Justice and Senators,--If indeed we have arrived at a settled

conclusion that this is a court, that it is governed by the law, that

it is to confine its attention to the facts applicable to the law, and

regard the sole evidence of those facts to be embraced within the

testimony of witnesses or documents produced in court, we have made

great progress in separating, at least, from your further consideration

much that has been impressed upon your attention heretofore. It follows

from this that the President is to be tried upon the charges which are

produced here, and not upon common fame.

I may as conveniently at this point of the argument as at any other pay

some attention to the astronomical punishment which the learned and

honorable manager, Mr. Boutwell, thinks should be applied to this novel

case of impeachment of the President. Cicero I think it is who says

that a lawyer should know everything, for sooner or later there is no

fact in history, in science, or of human knowledge that will not come

into play in his arguments. Painfully sensible of my ignorance, being

devoted to a profession which "sharpens and does not enlarge the mind,"

I yet can admire without envy the superior knowledge evinced by the

honorable manager. Indeed, upon my soul, I believe he is aware of an

astronomical fact which many professors of that science are wholly

ignorant of. But nevertheless, while some of his honorable colleagues

were paying attention to an unoccupied and unappropriated island on the

surface of the seas, Mr. Manager Boutwell, more ambitious, had

discovered an untenanted and unappropriated region in the skies,

reserved, he would have us think, in the final councils of the

Almighty, as the place of punishment for convicted and deposed American

Presidents.

At first I thought that his mind had become so "enlarged" that it was

not "sharp" enough to discover the Constitution had limited the

punishment; but on reflection I saw that he was as legal and logical as

he was ambitious and astronomical, for the Constitution has said

"removal from office," and has put no limit to the distance of the

removal, so that it may be, without shedding a drop of his blood, or

taking a penny of his property, or confining his limbs, instant removal

from office and transportation to the skies. Truly, this is a great

undertaking; and if the learned manager can only get over the obstacles

of the laws of nature the Constitution will not stand in his way. He

can contrive no method but that of a convulsion of the earth that shall

project the deposed President to this infinitely distant space; but a

shock of nature of so vast an energy and for so great a result on him

might unsettle even the footing of the firm members of Congress. We

certainly need not resort to so perilous a method as that. How shall we

accomplish it? Why, in the first place, nobody knows where that space

is but the learned manager himself, and he is the necessary deputy to

execute the judgment of the court.

Let it then be provided that in case of your sentence of deposition and

removal from office the honorable and astronomical manager shall take

into his own hands the execution of the sentence. With the President

made fast to his broad and strong shoulders, and, having already

essayed the flight by imagination, better prepared than anybody else to

execute it in form, taking the advantage of ladders as far as ladders

will go to the top of this great Capitol, and spurning then with his

foot the crest of Liberty, let him set out upon his flight, while the

two houses of Congress and all the people of the United States shall

shout, "_Sic itur ad astra_."

II

But here a distressing doubt strikes me; how will the manager get back?

He will have got far beyond the reach of gravitation to restore him,

and so ambitious a wing as his could never stoop to a downward flight.

Indeed, as he passes through the constellations, that famous question

of Carlyle by which he derides the littleness of human affairs upon the

scale of the measure of the heavens, "What thinks Bœotes as he drives

his dogs up the zenith in their race of sidereal fire?" will force

itself on his notice. What, indeed, would Bœotes think of this new

constellation?

Besides, reaching this space, beyond the power of Congress even "to

send for persons and papers," how shall he return, and how decide in

the contest, there become personal and perpetual, the struggle of

strength between him and the President? In this new revolution, thus

established forever, who shall decide which is the sun and which is the

moon? Who determine the only scientific test which reflects the hardest

upon the other?

Mr. Chief Justice and Senators, we have come all at once to the great

experiences and trials of a full-grown nation, all of which we thought

we should escape--the distractions of civil strife, the exhaustions of

powerful war. We could summon from the people a million of men and

inexhaustible treasure to help the Constitution in its time of need.

Can we summon now resources enough of civil prudence and of restraint

of passion to carry us through this trial, so that whatever result may

follow, in whatever form, the people may feel that the Constitution has

received no wound! To this court, the last and best resort for this

determination, it is to be left. And oh, if you could only carry

yourselves back to the spirit and the purpose and the wisdom and the

courage of the framers of the government, how safe would it be in your

hands? How safe is it now in your hands, for you who have entered into

their labors will see to it that the structure of your work comports in

durability and excellence with theirs. Indeed, so familiar has the

course of the argument made us with the names of the men of the

convention and of the first Congress that I could sometimes seem to

think that the presence even of the Chief Justice was replaced by the

serene majesty of Washington, and that from Massachusetts we had Adams

and Ames, from Connecticut, Sherman and Ellsworth, from New Jersey,

Paterson and Boudinot, and from New York, Hamilton and Benson, and that

they were to determine this case for us. Act, then, as if under this

serene and majestic presence your deliberations were to be conducted to

their close, and the Constitution was to come out from the watchful

solicitude of these great guardians of it as if from their own judgment

in this court of impeachment.

THE AFTER-DINNER SPEECH

AT A UNIVERSITY CLUB DINNER

Reprinted, with the author's permission, from a speech at a dinner of

The Harvard Club of New York City.

BY HENRY E. HOWLAND

There should be a proper amount of modesty in one called upon to

address such an intelligent audience of educated men as I see before

me, and I am conscious of it in the same sense as the patient who said

to his physician, "I suffer a great deal from nervous dyspepsia, and I

attribute it to the fact that I attend so many public dinners." "Ah, I

see," said the doctor, "you are often called upon to speak, and the

nervous apprehension upsets your digestion." "Not at all; my

apprehension is entirely on account of the other speakers; I never say

a thing;" and it is with some hesitation that I respond to your call.

Following out that line of thought, there is a great deal that is

attractive in a gathering of College men. They have such a winsome and

a winning way with them.

Richest in endowments, foremost in progress, honored by the renown of a

long line of distinguished sons, the university that claims you is

worthy of the homage and respect which it receives from the educated

men of America.

The study of the development of the human race by educational processes

which change by necessity under changing conditions and environment, is

one of the most interesting that we can engage in. The greatest men of

this country, or any other, have not always been made by the

university, however it may be with the average. You cannot always tell

by a man's degree what manner of man he is likely to be. But the value

of a technical or academic training is apparent as time goes on,

population increases, occupations multiply and compete, and the strife

of life becomes more fierce and strenuous.

Many in these days seem to prefer notoriety to fame, because it runs

along the line of least resistance. A man has to climb for fame, but he

can get notoriety by an easy tumble. And others forget the one

essential necessary to success, of personal effort, and, assuming there

is a royal road to learning, are content with the distinction of a

degree from a university, without caring for what it implies, and

answer as the son did to his father who asked him: "Why don't you work,

my son? If you only knew how much happiness work brings, you would

begin at once." "Father, I am trying to lead a life of self-denial in

which happiness cuts no figure; do not tempt me."

But notwithstanding all these tendencies, the level of mankind is

raised at these fountains of learning, the tone is higher, and the

standards are continually advanced. The discipline and the training

reaches and acts upon a willing and eager army of young recruits and

works its salutary effect, like that upon a man who listened with rapt

attention to a discourse from the pulpit and was congratulated upon his

devotion, and asked if he was not impressed. "Yes," he replied, "for it

is a mighty poor sermon that doesn't hit me somewhere."

However discouraging the action of our governing bodies through the

obstruction and perverse action of an ignorant or corrupt majority or

minority in them may be in the administration of great public affairs,

the time at last comes when the nation arouses from its lethargy,

shakes off its torpor, shows the strain of its blood, and follows its

trained and intelligent leaders, like the man who, in a time of sore

distress, after the ancient fashion, put ashes on his head, rent his

garments, tore off his coat, his waistcoat, his shirt, and his

undershirt, and at last came to himself. At such times, by the

universal voice of public opinion and amid hearty applause of the whole

people, we welcome to public office and the highest responsible

stations such men as our universities have given to the country. It

matters not to what family we belong--Harvard, Yale, Columbia, or

Princeton--we are all of us one in our welcome to them, for they

represent the university spirit and what it teaches--honor, high-

mindedness, intelligence, truthfulness, unselfishness, courage, and

patriotism.

THE EVACUATION OF NEW YORK

Reprinted with the author's permission

BY JOSEPH H. CHOATE

Mr. President and Gentlemen,--I came here to-night with some notes for

a speech in my pocket, but I have been sitting next to General Butler,

and in the course of the evening they have mysteriously disappeared.

The consequence is, gentlemen, that you may expect a very good speech

from him and a very poor one from me. When I read this toast which you

have just drunk in honor of Her Gracious Majesty, the Queen of Great

Britain, and heard how you received the letter of the British Minister

that was read in response, and how heartily you joined in singing "God

Save the Queen," when I look up and down these tables and see among you

so many representatives of English capital and English trade, I have my

doubts whether the evacuation of New York by the British was quite as

thorough and lasting as history would fain have us believe. If George

III, who certainly did all he could to despoil us of our rights and

liberties and bring us to ruin--if he could rise from his grave and see

how his granddaughter is honored at your hands to-night, why, I think

he would return whence he came, thanking God that his efforts to

enslave us, in which for eight long years he drained the resources of

the British Empire, were not successful.

The truth is, the boasted triumph of New York in getting rid of the

British once and forever has proved, after all, to be but a dismal

failure. We drove them out in one century only to see them return in

the next to devour our substance and to carry off all the honors. We

have just seen the noble Chief Justice of England, the feasted favorite

of all America, making a triumphal tour across the Continent and

carrying all before him at the rate of fifty miles an hour. Night after

night at our very great cost we have been paying the richest tribute to

the reigning monarch of the British stage, and nowhere in the world are

English men and women of character and culture received with a more

hearty welcome, a more earnest hospitality, than in this very state of

New York. The truth is, that this event that we celebrate to-day, which

sealed the independence of America and seemed for a time to give a

staggering blow to the prestige and the power of England, has proved to

be no less a blessing to her own people than to ours. The latest and

best of the English historians has said that, however important the

independence of America might be in the history of England, it was of

overwhelming importance in the history of the world, and that though it

might have crippled for a while the supremacy of the English nation, it

founded the supremacy of the English race. And in the same spirit we

welcome the fact that those social, political, and material barriers

that separated the two nations a century ago have now utterly vanished;

that year by year we are being drawn closer and closer together, and

that this day may be celebrated with equal fitness on both sides of the

Atlantic and by all who speak the English tongue.

TIES OF KINSHIP

From "Modern Eloquence," Vol. I, Geo. L. Shuman and Company, Chicago,

publishers.

BY SIR EDWIN ARNOLD

When I was conversing recently with Lord Tennyson, he said to me: "It

is bad for us that English will always be a spoken speech, since that

means that it will always be changing, and so the time will come when

you and I will be as hard to read for the common people as Chaucer is

to-day." You remember what opinion your brilliant humorist, Artemus

Ward, let fall concerning that ancient singer. "Mr. Chaucer," he

observed casually, "is an admirable poet, but as a spellist, a very

decided failure."

To the treasure house of that noble tongue the United States has

splendidly contributed. It would be far poorer to-day without the

tender lines of Longfellow, the serene and philosophic pages of

Emerson, the convincing wit and clear criticism of my illustrious

departed friend, James Russell Lowell, the Catullus-like perfection of

the lyrics of Edgar Allan Poe, and the glorious, large-tempered

dithyrambs of Walt Whitman.

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