1 y H iiPi iii h 1 J ttm lull 1 'II III VU in liiii' 'iiHo ! I mil imi"" HDI ffli F 15 li iiiiiiiij iiwiiiiii!:''.!!;'! 1" pilJi Em ■iiiiiif If ij|jpi{iiij iiifi iiii m II,: liPl "liil H DtJiini 1 .™ipi m mifiiynti 1 m g_ ■ m II il|i '''i Hi illlillLJ|H i nip B III -/J /' ]f / ; I £^3-^^-2^s^— V \- LETTERS TO A KING BY ALBION W. TOURGEE, LL. D., AUTHOR OF "A FOOI^'S ERRAND,'' "AN APPEAL TO C^SAR," ETC. Where the word of a king is, there is power. — ECCL. VIII, 4. CINCINNATI : CRANSTON & STONAi^K. NEW YORK: PHILLIPS & HUNT. 1888. Copyrighted, 18S7, by E. K. TOURGEE. * *. ^1 ft i «. 4 •■ « « a ft • I t t C 4 t • • ft • • ft •• 1 < i s C • c 4 4 t , » • ■ ft ft • ft ft • 1 i 4 4 C 4 4 ' 4 lit * 4 4 1 • • • • • • • ft • * * * ft « 4. t 1 <■ t. [ *' _' ,' 4 .4 4 4 4 * • • ft •• • • • ft ft • • t * ^ * * 4 t. 4. 1. 4 * 4 4 « .* • ft • ft • • l * « 4 ^* » • ft • • • C 1 t. 4 4 4 tit* 1 e ' 4 « • • ft ft ft ft • c 4. 4 4 4 * 1 ft * *• v." « « « « C * ft • • « •i' 1. « • • CO CO >• EC C33 CM I lit lljose uv*!-)© JieJ iijai il^e l^epulalic n)i^\)l li^e, YHTS volurrja is inscribed, Ir) ll)ei eetpijesi l)ape iljat if rriaj aiJ il^err) Y® etpppcoierte Jijeip i)epil0ae. 462391 P^EF^^E. A LETTER of congratulation addressed to the son of an old comrade, on his twenty-first birthday, has grown into a volume, the aim of which is twofold. It is designed in the first place to impress upon young men that they are the recipients, not only of a priceless political inheritance, but of a commen- surate responsibility, bequeathed to them by a generation which did not hesitate to shed its blood to perpetuate the idea of " a government of the people, by the people, and for the people," on the soil of America. The fact of individual responsi- bility on the part of the citizen has been very little considered, even by those who have dwelt upon the ethical principles of our government. The doctrine that politics is the broadest, richest, and most important field of Christian endeavor, will probably seem to many a startling proposition ; but it is one on the truth of which the future, not only of republican government, but of Christian civil- ization depends. Neither of these can be regarded 5 6 PREFACE. as secure until it is accepted as a principle of Christian ethics that a man can no more stand idly by and see public evils prevail and expect to be held guilt- less, than if he were a willing witness of his brother's murder. From this principle flows the other which this is work designed to set forth, — to wit: that responsi- bility for political evils can not be avoided by a mere perfunctory exercise of the electoral franchise. A soldier using arms of precision might as well claim to have discharged his duty by merely pulling the trigger in the hour of battle as a citizen console him- self with the idea that nothing more is required of him than merely to cast a ballot. The soldier who fails to take aim, and thereby make his shot effective, is a coward and a traitor to the flag he pretends to serve. The citizen who casts a ballot at haphazard is not a whit better. The soldier's eye is trained on purpose that he may take aim ; the citizen's brain and conscience are given him that he may use his power to the best advantage — to secure the greatest good of the greatest number. This work, therefore, concerns itself very largely with political instrumen- talities — the means by which the citizen's power may be made effective. There has been of late a curious tendency among PREFACE. 7 political thinkers to rely too much upon mere mechanical reforms. Individual responsibility is too often thought to end with the enactment of laws. It is very generally assumed that political evils may be cured by cunningly contrived devices which shall trip the "heeler" at his finest work, and leave the "boss" to gnash his teeth in impotent rage at his inability to cheat the patent "automatic self-register- ing" ballot-boxes, or evade the rigorous restraints of the "new, warranted pure because imported" system of State ballot-supply and ticket adjustment. Such devices are in the main merely scarecrows, which serve to lull the husbandman to slumber while the fowls of the air despoil his crop. Good laws may arm the citizen for the performance of his duty, but no device will ever be invented that will permit him to relax his vigilance or intermit his care. / This work is not founded upon the idea that a political millennium is imminent or even possible, but is the outcome of an irresistible conviction that the common sense, intelligence, and conscience of the whole people is a surer guarantee of good govern- ment than all the speculative wisdom of those who, falsely claiming to be "the better classes," are not un frequently the very worst and most dangerous elements of our society. While partisanship is set 8 PREFACE. forth as the very foremost duty of the citizen, the work is not in the least degree intended to subserve the interests of any party. The principles it enun- ciates are universal, applying to one party as well as to another — party itself being regarded only as an instrumentality by which popular purpose may be carried into effect. If this volume shall help to awaken those who may peruse its pages to the fact that self-government is not only a glorious privilege but a priceless trust, which it is the highest duty of to-day to transmit, not merely unimpaired, but greatly strengthened and improved to-morrow; and if it shall serve to make clear to any the fact that to exercise the power of the citizen is a personal duty in the performance of which the individual is subject always to the obliga- tions of Christian morality, the author will count himself well repaid for the labor of its preparation. Thorheim, July 4, 1888. eoi^TEisiTS. PAGE. "BE A MAN," 13 II. " LONG LIVE THE KING," 24 III. THE ANTECHAMBER TO THE THRONE 35 IV. SHYING AT A SHADOW, 45 V. A JOINT AND' SEVERAL LIABILITY, 58 VI. A PERPETUAL COVENANT, 7° VII. A CHOICE OF WEAPONS, 83 VIII. "KING CAUCUS," 97 9 lO CONTENTS. IX. PAGE. SETTING THE KEY-STONE, iir X. A SHEAF OF FIRST-FRUITS, 125 XI. THE INVISIBLE REPUBLIC i35 XII. THE RANK AND FILE MS XIII. "THE HONOR OF THY LORDLINESS," 158 XIV. THE WILL AND THE WAY 172 XV. PARTY FEALTY, 183 XVI. THE "INDEPENDENT VOTER," i95 XVII. THE PERILS OF REVOLT 207 XVIII. THE TRUSTEE OF AUTHORITY 221 CONTENTS. 1 1 XIX. PAGE. THE CAPTIVE KING 233 XX; THE NATIONAL IMPULSE, 247 XXI. THE AMENDMENT OF PARTY AGENCIES 263 XXII. THE PROMULGATION OF THE EDICT, 273 XXIII. THE PENALTIES OF MALFEASANCE, 284 :cxiv. "GOOD-BYE, JOHN," 289 IlETTERS TO A I^ING. "BE A MAN." MV DEAR JOHN: — This is your twenty-first birthday. Yesterday you were an infant ; to-day you are a man. I should content myself with formal congratulations upon this most notable event of your life, were it not that the relations I once sustained to your father may, perhaps, be thought to entitle me to speak somewhat more familiarly to a son whom he, alas! may no longer in- struct save by the influence of a noble example. We were not only contemporaries — your father and I — but compatriots as well. Our entrances upon the stage of life were so nearly simultaneous that we may almost be said to have responded to the same cue. In boyhood we were playmates ; in youth companions. When we crossed the median line be- tween youth and manhood by which you are stand- ing to-day, the shadow of impending conflict hung over the land. Side by side we received "the bap- tism of fire " on the first great battle-field of the mightiest struggle that history records. In its lurid 13 14 LETTERS TO A KING. light we learned how close is the bond that unites each individual life to the common destiny — how the great world-life rests evenly on every man's shoul- ders ; how the atoms make up the mass and the whole is colored by the life of each. In that hour our friendship was cemented by the strange intimacy which community of peril gives — the comradeship that fuses the hearts of those who stand shoulder to shoulder amid the red glare of battle — a sentiment which no diversity of rank or station can ever after- ward wholly destroy. Hardly a year had passed when already bronzed and toughened veterans, standing by his side on the crest of a hill, which that autumn day made forever memorable, I heard most force- fully expressed the injunction which I would might first of all things fall upon the ears and impress itself upon the soul of every young American as he crosses the threshold of manhood : It is no light thing to be a man. "Behold a man-child is born," is the celestial greeting to those into whose hands the destinies of unnumbered gen- erations are committed. Crowns may crumble ; kings may perish; dynasties may be forgotten; but in the lives of those who are to come after him, each man finds an immortality. It is no unusual injunction, yet the One Divine did not esteem it unworthy of obedience, and taught us by His example that it is ''BE A man:' 15 the golden door by which humanity may be ap- proached. He who would faithfully serve, worthily lead, or pleasantly consort with his fellows, must, first of all things, be a man. It is strange how this sim- ple phrase was stamped that day upon my mind. No doubt the surroundings had much to do with the vividness with which it stands out in my memory of a scene which itself was one of those that leave a scar upon the soul no after life can obliterate. It was a fair October day. The Indian summer haze hung on the distant hillsides. The elms were already bare and brown. The red berries of the holly showed through the prickly leaves where they grew in clusters by the road-side. The hickories made golden gashes in the wooded horizon. The sumach flamed in the hedge-rows, and the persimmons were Just changing their dull green for the duller red that tells of the ripening touch of frost. The fields were white with dry, feathery sedge-grass, or dark with the rank growth of sere ragweed that clothed the stubble lands. The walnut-trees had strewn their pale leaves and green-coated fruit in amber circles on the unfrequented roadway along which we had marched that morning. Our feet had slipped upon the acrid shells and crushed the nuts into the dark red soil, filling the air with spicy aroma. The oaks that crowned the Kentucky "knobs" were showing russet tints, and the low-branching chestnuts held up the velvet lining of their burrs in l6 LETTERS TO A KING. mute protestation of the faithfulness with which they had surrendered their treasures, keeping nothing back to tempt the hand of the ravisher. We met the dropping irregular fire of the skir- mishers before the sun had climbed half-way to the meridian, and pushed them backward over hill and dale until the noon glared hotly down upon us, and the angry roar of artillery began to mingle with their scattering fire. Yet there was no hostile force in sight. Our light skirmish line easily advanced, al- most unhindered by the shots which they returned, no doubt, with like harmlessness. The preparations for conflict were deliberately, though foolishly, made. The general in command was a soldier by education, and a palterer by instinct. He had an overwhelming dread of his opponent, was without confidence in those he commanded, and had an invincible dis- trust of himself. He was a scientific soldier, who wanted to see all the enemy's powers before making a move! Marching through a cornfield, where the maize stalks stood in serried rows of rankest growth, as the rifle balls came whistling by, we learned to distinguish by the sound whether they cut stalk or leaf or scattered the golden grains from the ripe, drooping ear. Halt- ing beneath the shadow of a grove of oaks, we laughed, not altogether joyfully, as we felt the ripe acorns, rattled down upon our heads by the shells that came screeching through the heavy-laden ''BE A MAN." ly branches. At length we reached an unprotected crest where the stubble showed yellow in the midday sunshine. Cannon to right and left, in front and rear, made the earth tremble, and filled the palpi- tating air with soft, fleecy clouds, that floated away from the exploding shells. All were hidden from our sight by the wooded "knobs" around, except one battery to our left and rear that fired spitefully into the silent woods, and one that with reckless au- dacity was pushed forward in our very front. The fire of the skirmishers had died away, and the stillness of the hot noonday was only broken by this angry duel waged over our heads. Not an enemy was to be seen, and with all the clangor that filled the balmy air, it was difficult to realize that we were standing on a battle-field. The blue line halted. The align- ment was corrected. Those who wore swords fell back to their respective stations in the rear of the steel-crowned ranks. We waited only for the order to advance in line upon the unseen foe. Just in front of me stood a lad whose great brown eyes and dark waving locks were like those your mirror reveals when you look into its silvery depths. He Avas yet in his teens — the down of coming man- hood scarce!}'- casting a shadow on his fine lip, which quivered with excitement as he asked in a tense whisper as I passed down the line, "Do you think there will be a battle?" It was the first time he had witnessed the pre- 1 8 LETTERS TO A KING. liminaries of such a conflict. Hardly more than a month before he had left a peaceful home, despite a brother's remonstrance and a sister's prayer, to un- dertake a soldier's duty and encounter a soldier's perils. Almost as he spoke, from a wooded crest scarce a bowshot away, leaped flashing tongues of flame that brought the message of death to hundreds of our ill-fated left wing on that day so fecund of the angry memories which fill the soldier's heart when he feels himself balked of triumph, and knows his comrade's blood to have been vainly shed through a leader's gross incompetency. A shudder ran along the line. Men moaned and sunk into eternal silence. Others spun quickly round, and with upstretched arms and rigid muscles fell stiff" and prone to rearward, as if the thought of flight had flashed in that last instant through the shattered brain. Still others crept pallid and trembling to the rear, pressing with bloody hands the pulsing fount- ains through which their life-blood ebbed away. I took little heed of those things at the time. They were only incidents that photographed themselves upon my memory. At such a moment a subaltern has time and thought for nothing but the men composing that part of the line for which he is re- sponsible. His eyes are upon them ; his ears open only to the commands that may be transmitted ; his whole attention concentrated upon those few files which he must encourage, assist, inspire. *^ BE A man:' 19 No one waited for orders after that deadly blast. All knew that we were in the very vortex of battle. Before any officer's lips could frame the command to fire, the polished barrels had fallen to the poise; there was the fateful click of back-drawn hammers; the gleam of flashing eyes along the leveled steel and the roar of the answering volley. Then came the inde- scribable turmoil of battle. The air seemed full of hissing metal. Men stood or knelt, but kept on firing steadily. The files grew fewer. I paced back and forth behind them, proud alike of the living and the dead. The young lad bit his cartridge and rammed home the ball, his fair face aglow with excitement, but his hand as steady as a veteran's. As he fixed the cap, his eye sought with quick, stolen glances the flame-lit copse in which the foe lay hid. On either hand his stricken comrades were falling thick and fast — dropping where they stood or staggering backward in that pallid swoon that tells the woeful tale of death even more terribly than the silent heaps of clay that fall unmoving at our feet. Ah me ! how swift the blue line melted ! and still the unseen enemy poured upon us the pitiless leaden hail, and still we loaded and fired at the smoking thicket. Then the weak line wavered, bending backward here and there where it had grown thinnest in the breath of the hot tornado. At that moment the brother of this lad, a veteran to whom battle-scenes had grown familiar, rushing for an instant from his 20 LETTERS TO A KING. post of duty, sought along the weakened line for the boy who was to him as the apple of his ej'e. His face was h"ghted with the glare of battle ; his lips shut close and his eyes blazed with the fierce joy that comes to the hero soul in the hour of supreme peril. As his glance fell upon the youth he sought, the half-anxious look faded from his face and a smile of grim satisfaction took its place. He laid his hand upon his brother's shoulder, and said in the even tone that sounds so clear above the roar of battle: " Be a man, John ! " There was a look of proud reproachfulness on the fair, powder-stained face that turned to meet his gaze, and a smile of yet prouder approval curved the bearded lip as the veteran's hand rested an instant on the boy's shoulder, and he repeated tenderly his injunction, "Be a man, John!" The tide of battle ebbed and flowed, and when the moon rose after that tumultuous day, it shone on John's face, white and cold, lying where he had stood, with the pallid ranks stretching away on either hand, his feet the very foremost towards the foe. He sleeps in peace under the giant oaks which seem to exult even yet in the valorous fight that was waged in the shadow of their branches. You bear the name of that young hero. The blood that swells your veins is akin to that which stained the stubble on that fateful field. You, too, are entering upon a mighty conflict. The battle field ''BE A man:' 21 of life stretches away before your feet. Every point of vantage is held by an enemy open or concealed. The world looks on, expectant of valorous deeds. The country for which your honored namesake died asks no less of you than it demanded of him. It may not call you to the field of conflict. Your heart may never throb with "that stern joy that warriors feel." You may never know the intoxication of triumph or the sickening woe of defeat. Yet all the same, the country expects, and has a right to expect, that you will protect her interests, conserve her liber- ties, and devote yourself to her service with a courage, devotion, self sacrifice, and intelligence not excelled by him whose name you bear. The battles of liberty and right are not all fought with the sword, and the noblest victories are ofttimes peaceful and bloodless ones ; but the same heroic attributes are required to win them that sustain the soldier in the hour of battle. It was the hero poet-king who put to rout the enemies of Israel, but it was the son whose hands knew not the stain of blood, who builded the temple of the Most High. " Peace hath her victories No less renowned than war." It is not for me to prescribe what you should do. You hold in your hands the weapons of to- day. You are in the fore-front of the battle. I am of the past, lingering in the rear, once more a sub- altern who seeks to inspire rather than direct. You 22 LETTERS TO A KING. are armed and equipped and on your courage and skill the outcome of the conflict rests. Presumably, you have been tauglit to use your weapons and trained to perform the duties devolving upon you. You have the right to ask the veteran, who has often watched the signs of coming conflict, "Do you think there will be a battle?" though the answer will not come from his lips but from the foemen who ever beset the pathway of progress and threaten the temple of liberty. Yesterday can never fight the battles of to-day, nor even point out how its victories shall be won. It can only train the soldiers who shall join battle with unseen foes, and fight, and fall perhaps, in the never-ending conflict for the right. As a part of the past which lays at once its behest and benison upon the present, and, relying upon its courage, fortitude, and devotion, bids defiance to the ills of the future, I can but repeat the injunction your honored father laid upon his young brother amid the roar of battle, " Be a man, John!" You and all those who will come with you into the birthright of American citizenship in this year of Grace, have a rich inheritance of example to in- spire to patriotic endeavor. You were born at the climax of an heroic epoch. You were the first-fruits of peace. The cannon's triumphant echoes rocked the cradles of the rescued nation's new-born sons. The songs of the camp were your lullaby, and the story of a father's heroism the food on which your young ''BE A man:\ 23 imagination fed. In all the world's history there has never been a generation so splendidly equipped, so proudly sired, and of whom the world has a right to demand so high an ideal of duty, such complete devotion to the right, and so grand a tale of noble achievements. If blood tells, surely men begotten by heroes in the first moments of peace, after a quadren- niate of the most glorious warfare, should be braver, stronger, and truer than the children of care or the petted offspring of prosperous ease. There is scarcely one in all the thousands whom this year will usher into American citizenship, and who will for the first time exercise the powers of a citizen, who is not able to point to some spot in our national domain, sanctified by the very blood that flows in his veins undiluted by intervening lives. Whether shed under the "Stars" or beneath the ill- fated shadow of the "Bars," the lesson of hero-blood is still the same matchless truth sanctified by the lips of the noblest spirit of even that climacteric epoch — "Devotion to the right as God gives us to see the right ! " The heroic past looks to its first-born for the per- formance, not of specific testamentary injunctions, but for the fulfillment of the one all-comprehending behest which the heat of battle distilled from your father's Hps, itself the very essence of liis own heroic life: II. "LONG LIVE THE KING." There is a story of the Tsar Nicholas, which every American mother ought to tell to her children when she would teach them " that country's a thing men should die for at need," or, what is more diffi- cult, live for, since " Peace hath higher tests of manhood Than battle ever knew," It is said that when the first section of rail- way ever built in Russia was completed, the great Tsar made a tour of inspection over it, attended by a numerous and brilliant suite. The American en- gineer, under whose direction it had been constructed, accompanied the party, and, naturally enough, was called on by the sovereign to point out the difficulties which had been overcome, explain how the work had been accomplished, and unfold the advantages to be derived by the Muscovite empire from the system of railways which he had devised, and of which the line they were testing was only the beginning. It was an opportunity he had long desired; for he thought, not without reason, that if he could once get the ear of 24 . ''LONG LIVE THE KING:' 2$ the sagacious monarch he would be able to convince him that the future strength and glory of the empire depended on just such an adaptation of the great force of modern civilization. In anticipation of this occasion, therefore, the engineer had prepared a map which showed how, by lines which would require no protecting forces, being beyond the reach of hostile attack, and ap- proaching foreign borders only at what are strate- gically termed "points of contact," every frontier of the empire might be made more accessible from within than by any hostile power from without. By it he was able to demonstrate that England's sovereignty of the seas might be set at naught; the barricades of the Bosphorus be laughed at ; Persia made a wall of defense rather than an obstacle to the empire's enlargement; India threatened without ex- posing Cronstadt ; the Turk's position attacked from the rear, and Austria and Prussia left powerless to intervene. The plan has since been carried out in part, and the fact clearly established that the Amer- ican engineer fully comprehended the military advan- tages of the Muscovite empire, and fathomed the necessity for constant aggression which underlies the throne of the Tsar — a fate at once terrible and resist- less, which impels the empire towards its destiny. Even as these sheets are passing through the press, the half-completed system he devised is one of the most important elements of what is known as the 3 26 LETTERS TO A KING. "European situation." When it is perfected, and the whole strength of the great empire can be readily concentrated at any point on its borders, no adjoin- ing nationahty will be able to resist its power, and no allied forces able to punish it for aggression, "Russia has but to wait and watch," said the great Peter. More truly might it now be said that she has but to wait, and build railroads diverging from her great, unassailable center. So interested did the American become in his great project that unconsciously he took a seat beside the emperor, and unfolding the map upon his knee, began to point out to the autocrat of all the Russias the capabilities of his vast dominion. Mile after mile the train sped on, and still the two continued their conversation. Sometimes it was the engineer- ing difficulties of the line over which they were pass- mg, and sometimes the future of the empire that occupied their attention. In the suite of the autocrat were cabinet ministers, generals, officers of his body- guard, and many of the most illustrious nobles of the realm. All of them remained standing ; only the Tsar and the American, in his plain frock-coat, were seated. The engineer was unconscious of this breach of royal etiquette, and the Tsar had either been too deeply absorbed to notice, or had chosen to overlook it. To the courtiers, however, it was a most heinous offense. Their eyes flashed, the black Muscovite brows contracted, and their swarthy cheeks burned " LONG LIVE THE KING." 27 with rage, as they noted the unconscious impudence of the American. At length their muttered indigna- tion reached the ear of JSTicholas. He was not one to allow inferiors to comment on wliat he chose to permit. Turning towards them with that imperial dignity which characterized him, he said: " You are wrong, gentlemen. This man is a king! You are only subjects. He may be the ruler of his people to-morrow; you can never be more than the servants of your sovereign !" The Tsar was not only right, but in a sense which he could hardly have understood, the man with whom he conversed was not only a possible ruler, but an actual sovereign, and, as such, entitled by royal eti- quette to sit in the presence of kings. You have no doubt come to accept the modern notion which sneers at American political ideas as, in the main, correct. You have, perhaps, been accus- tomed to speak of our government as the "republican experiment," and wagged your head in grave premo- nition while discoursing of specific ills that seem to impend. You may even have questioned whether citi- zenship in the great Republic is a thing to be proud of; though I trust you have not yet come to profess yourself ashamed of the birthright hallowed by your father's blood. Comparing our American life with spe- cific phases of life in other lands, you may, however; have become sufficiently " advanced " in your views to coolly ask yourself whether there is any solid distinc- 28 LETTERS TO A KING. tion between the terms "citizen" and "subject," and whether "republican institutions" really imply an enlargement of human liberty and individual rights. It is a curious fact, that among those claiming to rep- resent the most highly cultivated and intelligent classes, especially of the Eastern and Middle States, the general trend of sentiment is in the direction of admitting the failure of republican institutions, and the acceptance of modifications and limitations thereof which will restrict the privileges of the many and enhance the power of the few. In other words, there is to be found among those claiming to represent the most advanced thought, the highest aspiration and purest purpose, a distinct tendency to restrict the oper- ation of the distinctive principle of American democ- racy, — equality of right, privilege, and opportunity. We are often told that the "experiment" of self- government and unrestricted privilege has proved a failure — as if it were a completed experiment, a system, a form, and not 2l\\ evolution or condition of individual and collective life. The fact that kings have become tyrants, and that misgovernment and revolution resulted, though it has been repeated over and over again for centuries, is not regarded as sufficient to establish the conclu- sion that monarchy as a form of government is a failure. Yet monarchy is an experiment which has failed a hundred times for every instance in which democracy has proved unsuccessful. In such cases, ^