date when high court of
history sits in judgment
on each one of us

On January 10, 1961, John F. Kennedy was invited to address the Massachusetts State Legislature. The next speech he would give would be in 10 days in Washington, DC when he was sworn in as President of the United States.

President Elect Kennedy, looking ahead to the next four years, saying ” … our success or failure, in whatever office we may hold, will be measured by the answers to four questions …”

Here is what he said.

History will not judge our endeavors–and a government cannot be selected–merely on the basis of color or creed or even party affiliation. Neither will competence and loyalty and stature, while essential to the utmost, suffice in times such as these.

For of those to whom much is given, much is required. And when at some future date the high court of history sits in judgment on each one of us–recording whether in our brief span of service we fulfilled our responsibilities to the state–our success or failure, in whatever office we may hold, will be measured by the answers to four questions:

First, were we truly men of courage–with the courage to stand up to one’s enemies–and the courage to stand up, when necessary, to one’s associates–the courage to resist public pressure, as well as private greed?

Secondly, were we truly men of judgment–with perceptive judgment of the future as well as the past–of our own mistakes as well as the mistakes of others–with enough wisdom to know that we did not know, and enough candor to admit it?

Third, were we truly men of integrity–men who never ran out on either the principles in which they believed or the people who believed in them–men who believed in us–men whom neither financial gain nor political ambition could ever divert from the fulfillment of our sacred trust?

Finally, were we truly men of dedication–with an honor mortgaged to no single individual or group, and compromised by no private obligation or aim, but devoted solely to serving the public good and the national interest.

Courage–judgment–integrity–dedication–these are the historic qualities of the Bay Colony and the Bay State–the qualities which this state has consistently sent to this chamber on Beacon Hill here in Boston and to Capitol Hill back in Washington.

For a historical exercise, shall we ask these four questions of the current administration?

Well, why not?

First, are they truly people of courage?

No, not as I understand the word courage.

Secondly, are they truly people of judgment?

No, not as I understand the word judgment.

Third, are they truly people of integrity?

HA!

No.

Just recently, I can give you 1.776 billion reasons and earlier, I had another 11,000 reasons to say NO to integrity. It is to laugh just to ask this question.

This last question is tricky.

If we ask, are they truly people of dedication?

They people of this current administration are certainly dedicated to the cult of following, blindly, that man currently in office.

But if we ask the complete question, are they truly people of dedication–with an honor mortgaged to no single individual or group, and compromised by no private obligation or aim, but devoted solely to serving the public good and the national interest?

I think that once again, the answer is no.

An honor mortgaged to no single individual or group?

HA!

Compromised by no private obligation or aim?

HA!

Devoted solely to serving the public good and the national interest?

DOUBLE HA!

Courage–judgment–integrity–dedication.

It’s like sadly remembering the life and times of our childhood when the everyday things of our lives, a long summer break in summertime, the sound of Ernie Harwell’s voice in summertime, the excitement of summertime in summertime are gone forever.

Here is the twist.

Somewhere deep inside myself, I cannot write these people off.

I feel that deep in their hearts, they know what they are doing and what they are giving up and what they are throwing away.

I feel sorry for them.

I feel sorry because at some future date the high court of history sits in judgment on each one of us–recording whether in our brief span of service we fulfilled our responsibilities to the state–their success or failure, in whatever office we may hold.

For of those to whom much is given, much is required

They will not be able to say, we didn’t know.

They know.

And they know they know it.

And I feel worse for all us.

to me, was wholly
simple, without vanity,
grandiosity

To me he seems one of the two or three greatest men ever born of our blood.

You will observe that I am talking as if we were one household and speaking of our blood, for no drop ran in his veins which was not British in its ultimate origin.

I like to think that in him we see at its highest that kind of character and mind which is the special glory of our common race.

He was wholly simple, without vanity or grandiosity or cant.

He was a homely man, full of homely common sense and homely humour, but in the great moment he could rise to a grandeur which is for ever denied to posturing, self-conscious talent.

He conducted the ordinary business of life in phrases of a homespun simplicity, but when necessary he could attain to a nobility of speech and a profundity of thought which have rarely been equalled.

He was a plain man, loving his fellows and happy among them, but when the crisis came he could stand alone.

He could talk with crowds and keep his virtue; he could preserve the common touch and yet walk with God.

There is no such bond between peoples as that each should enter into the sacred places of the other, and in the noble merchantry of civilization let us remember that, if we of England have given Shakespeare to America, you have paid us back with Lincoln.

From Two Ordeals of Democracy, an address delivered on the Alumni War Memorial Foundation at Milton Academy, Massachusetts, October 16, 1924 and republished in his book Homilies and Recreations by John Buchan (Books For Libraries Press. Freeport, NE, 1926).

John Buchan, 1st Baron Tweedsmuir (born Aug. 26, 1875, Perth, Perthshire, Scot.—died Feb. 11, 1940, Montreal) was a statesman and writer best known for his swift-paced adventure stories. His 50 books, all written in his spare time while pursuing an active career in politics, diplomacy, and publishing, include many historical novels and biographies.

John Buchan, 1st Baron Tweedsmuir (born Aug. 26, 1875, Perth, Perthshire, Scot.—died Feb. 11, 1940, Montreal) was a statesman and writer best known for his swift-paced adventure stories. His 50 books, all written in his spare time while pursuing an active career in politics, diplomacy, and publishing, include many historical novels and biographies.

According to Wikipedia, “Outside the field of literature he was, at various times, a barrister, a publisher, a lieutenant colonel in the Intelligence Corps, the Director of Information—reporting directly to prime minister David Lloyd George—during the First World War and a Unionist MP who served as Governor General of Canada, the fifteenth to hold the office since Canadian Confederation.

Canadian history professor Roger Hall noted in a book review that “a great deal of [Buchan’s] success resulted from the extraordinary person he was, adding that “not many of our contemporary [Governor General] candidates come with those credentials” and “in the end it is Buchan’s role as a moral compass that seems most worthy.”

Buchan’s moral certainty was, as historian Sir John Keegan wrote, “one of his strengths as a writer [giving] him the power to achieve something particularly elusive: moral atmosphere”

John Buchan was and is an “inspiring example of a life lived for others”, as Ursula Buchan has written, from humble origins “without money or family influence, he nevertheless carved out a hugely successful writing and public career … His strengths, underpinned by a sincere and unwavering Christian faith, were his intelligence, humanity, clarity of thought, wit, moral and physical courage, a capacity to get on with everybody, from monarchs to miners, and an elegant prose style that appealed to a very wide readership.

Mr. Buchan saw something in Mr. Lincoln.

I think often of Mr. Lincoln today.

As President, Mr. Lincoln governed a nation that was so split, that a good part of the country fought tooth and nail to stop being a part of the country.

Luckily or maybe unluckily, the feelings were regional and the divide by feelings accommodated the geography.

He was wholly simple, without vanity or grandiosity or cant.

Wholly simple.

Without vanity.

Without grandiosity (what a great word).

Without cant.

In this case, one source states: cant here means insincere, fake, preachy, or hypocritical talk, especially moralizing language someone doesn’t truly mean.

Not insincere,

fake,

preachy,

or hypocritical talk,

especially moralizing language someone doesn’t truly mean.

Buchan’s moral certainty was, as historian Sir John Keegan wrote, “one of his strengths as a writer [giving] him the power to achieve something particularly elusive: moral atmosphere”

In this moral atmosphere of Mr. Buchan’s was Mr. Lincoln.

I have this feeling that had Mr. Buchan been around today and asked to describe that current man in office, he would take up his pen and think and put it down and take it up and think and put it down and finally, give it up.

What can one do when your subject lives outside any moral atmosphere.

Back to Mr. Lincoln.

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio.