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Triumphs and Tragedies of The Modern Presidency Case Studies in Presidential Leadership Maxmillian Angerholzer Iii
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About the Center for the Study of the Presidency & Congress
Established in 1965, the Center for the Study of the Presidency & Congress is a
unique non-partisan, non-profit 501(c)(3) organization in Washington, D.C., that
collaborates with the best minds in government, the private sector, and academia
to apply strategic thinking and the lessons of history and leadership to today’s
most critical policy challenges.
Copyright © 2016 by Center for the Study of the Presidency & Congress
20 19 18 17 16 1 2 3 4 5
Praeger
An Imprint of ABC-CLIO, LLC
ABC-CLIO, LLC
130 Cremona Drive, P.O. Box 1911
Santa Barbara, California 93116-1911
Andrew F. Barth
President
Capital Guardian Trust Company
Maury Bradsher
Chairman & CEO
District Equity
Eli Broad
Founder
The Broad Foundation
Jay Collins
Vice Chairman
Corporate and Investment Banking
Citi
Robert A. Day
Former Chairman and CEO
Trust Company of the West
Bradford M. Freeman
Founding Partner
Freeman Spogli & Co.
Daniel C. Lubin
Founder & Managing Partner
Radius Ventures
H. Gregory Platts
Former Senior Vice President and Treasurer
National Geographic Society
Pamela Scholl
Vice Chairman of the Board
Chairman of the Executive Committee
Chairman and President
Dr. Scholl Foundation
Stephen A. Schwarzman
Chairman, CEO, & Co-Founder
The Blackstone Group
George Stephanopoulos
Chief Anchor
ABC News
Stanley R. Zax
Former Chairman, President & CEO
Zenith National Insurance Corporation
Contents
Introduction
Notes
Selected Bibliography
Contributors
Acknowledgments
Index
About the Editors
Introduction
“SOFT” PREROGRATIVE
Political scientists distinguish between a claim of “hard” and “soft”
prerogative. Presidents rely on “soft” prerogative when they act
unilaterally to resolve an issue but later claim that they acted under
color of law. They may use delegated powers in ways inconsistent
with congressional intent. They may claim that prerogative and law
allow them to interpret expansively narrowly drawn delegations of
power. They may claim the president has the prerogative to enforce
the “mass of legislation” such that he is carrying out congressional
intent, even where no specific statutory provision can be found.
Such claims were made by President Grover Cleveland after he
put down the Pullman strike, by President Harry Truman after he
seized steel mills during the Korean War, and by President Richard
Nixon when he impounded funds. A related argument holds that
there is a “peace of the United States” that the president is bound to
enforce: presidents combine commander-in-chief powers and
statutes to claim that they possess quasi-judicial enforcement
powers involving strikes, civil insurrection, alleged subversive
activities and terrorism and to conduct surveillance without judicial
warrant. Presidents claim to be able, in national emergencies, to
exercise powers that go beyond or contravene statute law.
Executive power, when combined with a statute, may even
permit a president to take action that is not authorized in advance
by the law but that involves subsequent “joint concord” of the
executive and Congress. The Supreme Court held in Hirabayashi v.
U.S. that an executive order followed by congressional authorization
would constitute such joint concord. Lower federal courts have used
the doctrine since the 1970s to uphold presidential war making
absent a declaration of war and absent specific congressional
authorization. And presidents rely on a combination of “executive
power” and the “take care” clause to claim discretion in the exercise
of law—what is known in formal terms as the “dispensing power.”
President Barack Obama unilaterally determined which
undocumented aliens would be subject to deportation and which
would not, based on the argument that Congress had not provided
him with the resources to fully implement its statutes, thus providing
him with discretion in implementation. He used that discretion by
directing the Department of Homeland Security to issue a
departmental memorandum on which categories of undocumented
aliens would not face deportation.
FRONTLASH, BACKLASH, AND OVERSHOOT
Presidents must simultaneously defend the wisdom of their policy
and thus preserve their authority, as well as the constitutionality and
legality of their actions, thus preserving their legitimacy. When their
authority is preserved, their legitimacy is not at risk. When their
authority is successfully questioned, however, the legitimacy of their
actions will be questioned as well.
There are generally three outcomes that flow from a prerogative
governance. If the policy works, there will often be a “frontlash”
effect. Success quiets the critics and enables the president to retain
support of party and public. His own party unites while the
opposition splits. Congress passes laws “perfecting” the president’s
initiatives: broad delegations, supportive resolutions, retrospective
authority and funding, subsequent authorization, and immunity or
indemnification of officials if there were a question of the legality of
their actions. Presidents gain both political strength and an
expansion of their powers through this kind of precedent. The
institutional self-confidence of the executive branch tends to increase
in such cases, while that of Congress decreases.
Backlash tends to occur when the presidential initiative succeeds,
but at a high cost, or when the policy fails altogether. Attacks on a
presidential policy lead critics to attack the associated prerogatives.
The president’s party becomes dispirited and divided, while the
opposition is emboldened. There may be investigations and tough
oversight, Congress may follow on with framework legislation that
promotes inter-branch policy collaboration. It may pass obstructive
or prohibitory legislation, funding cutoffs or conditions, or make cuts.
It may pass resolutions condemning the presidential action. It may
require additional reporting and consultation for future decisions. It
may take reprisals, such as holding up nominations, failing to pass
unrelated legislation, or holding up reorganization plans until they
are modified to suit congressional interests. Courts may resuscitate
the doctrine of separation of powers and find presidential
transgressions. Private parties may sue for damages on the grounds
that presidents and their subordinates did not act according to law.
Prosecutions of presidential agents may result, involving the original
offense or cover-ups. The precedent becomes not the exercise of
power, but the check against it. The president’s exercise of
prerogative, if failed, affects his reputation in the Washington
community, his public standing, and consequently limits his options
and weakens his leadership.
At times, presidential assertions of prerogative so overshoot the
accepted bounds of legality and constitutionality that a crisis of
legitimacy ensues, and the policy in question collapses. The
impeachment of Andrew Johnson over the removal power; the
resignation of Richard Nixon over the Watergate cover-up; and the
paralysis in the latter stages of the Reagan Administration over the
Iran-Contra Affair represent examples of presidential assertions of
prerogative that led to a crisis of legitimacy and subsequent
collapse. The president loses the battle for public opinion and some
of his party deserts him. High-ranking officials are investigated by
Congress and grand juries for criminal offenses. The president and
his top aides are distracted with the investigations, there is turnover
in the ranks, and eventually the president seeks resignations of top
officials and replaces them with others who have the confidence of
Congress. This occurred in the aftermath of the Watergate and Iran-
Contra affairs, in effect creating for a time a quasi-parliamentary
system. During these scandals there is a sharp drop in presidential
approval ratings, which is accompanied by a similar drop in approval
scores on administration-sponsored legislation. Impeachment may
occur as happened with Andrew Johnson or Bill Clinton (whose
transgressions were mostly personal but did involve charges of
perjury), or to forestall them, the president may resign, as Nixon did
(see the essays on Watergate and the Lewinsky Scandal in Section V,
this volume).
IT’S MY PREROGATIVE
History suggests that presidents should invoke prerogative powers
with caution. Prerogative governance should be instituted only in the
national interest and when national security is at risk, for instance,
and not for partisan or personal advantage. It should never be used
against legitimate political opponents. Presidents take a huge risk if
their lawyers argue that emergency powers are unlimited (or that
the emergency defines the scope of the power), or that the courts
do not have jurisdiction. Judges tend to take a dim view of such
assertions of prerogative power. Certain decisions and actions may
need to be kept secret, but it will usually go badly for the White
House if it keeps these secrets from congressional committees
authorized to conduct oversight. Parallel governance may seem to
provide the advantage of unity, secrecy, and dispatch, but its use is
likely to delegitimize the administration, because the idea of
separation of powers and checks and balances is hardwired into the
American political culture. There are also lessons to be drawn from
framework legislation, usually designed by Congress to rein in
presidential excess and in response to presidential fiascos, and those
who do not learn the lessons are destined to repeat the fiascos.
Perhaps the most important lesson is that the key to defending
prerogative governance and preserving presidential authority is to
get the policy right. To the extent that prerogative governance is
tempting because it will enable the White House to avoid explaining
and justifying its policies to Congress, the courts, and the public, it is
a temptation that is best resisted by presidents and those who
advise them. Presidents must institute decision processes that lead
to good decisions. Good decisions in turn lead to successful policies
that by definition can be defended before public opinion,
congressional committees, and, if necessary, in court. The successful
defense of a decision, in turn, leads to a successful defense of the
prerogatives necessary to implement it. That is what defines the
great presidents, all of whom did not hesitate to rely on their
prerogative powers to implement policies of supreme national
interest.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
2. White House Rules: The Post–World War II
Presidency
by James P. Pfiffner
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
3. The 21st-Century Imperial Presidency
by Andrew C. Rudalevige
A PAGE OF HISTORY
The Framers worried a good deal about executive power, and the
war powers were thought particularly problematic. No one doubted
the president’s authority to defend the country against sudden
attack, nor the need for a unified chain of command in wartime. But
as James Madison summarized, “the constitution supposes, what the
history of all governments demonstrates, that the executive is the
branch of power most interested in war and prone to it. It has
accordingly with studied care, vested the question of war in the
Legislature.”3 Congress was given the power to declare war, and thus
to activate the forces the president would direct as commander in
chief; to raise and regulate fleets and armies; to make rules
regarding the conduct of warfare and the use of the militia; to ratify
treaties; and even to govern foreign trade.4
That was the idea, but as Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell
Holmes, Jr., once observed, “a page of history is worth a volume of
logic.”5 In practice, enough was left vague—notably in the vesting of
an undefined “executive power” in the president—that presidents
quickly proved skilled at interpreting constitutional ambiguity in their
own favor. The huge growth in governmental capacity over time,
cemented by the expansive national security apparatus built up
during and after World War II in particular, tended to empower the
executive branch. If nothing else, the large, standing army and vast
arsenal of nuclear weaponry maintained during the Cold War meant
that presidents always have forces ready to command.6 The unitary
structure of the executive branch, as Hamilton recognized in the
Federalist, also has strong advantages over the collective decision
making of the legislature, especially when it comes to foreign policy.7
And for its part, Congress, especially after its embarrassing
isolationism in the 1930s, was happy to delegate discretion to the
presidency. Harry Truman never sought its approval to prosecute the
Korean War, while a series of “blank check” resolutions authorizing
presidents to respond to world events culminated in the 1964 Gulf of
Tonkin Resolution—and 58,000 American war deaths in Vietnam.
Vietnam and Watergate finally prompted a legislative backlash
that sought to rein in presidential autonomy.8 For instance,
intelligence oversight acts sought to ensure consultation with
Congress when presidents planned covert action. The 1978 Foreign
Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA) required the intelligence
community to obtain judicial approval for its efforts within the United
States. And the War Powers Resolution (WPR) aimed to constrain
the unilateral use of force by presidents. Presidents were given
authority to introduce U.S. troops into ongoing or imminent
“hostilities” only under a specific legislative authorization, or in “a
national emergency created by attack upon the United States . . . or
its armed forces.” Deploying troops or using force would also trigger
a “clock” that would require the troops be removed by a fixed
deadline unless Congress had agreed to a longer deployment.
Today’s imperial presidency is defined by the reaction to—and the
crumbling of—that “resurgence regime.” Over the next two decades,
presidents pushed back against the constraints described in the WPR
and met surprisingly little resistance. Only once, in 1975, was the
WPR even invoked by a president. At best, presidents reported their
actions (in Iran, Grenada, Panama, etc.) “consistent with” the WPR
but not admitting its constraining authority. Indeed, one critic
termed Bill Clinton’s military intervention in the Balkans in 1999 “one
of the most flagrant acts of usurpation of the war power in the
history of the republic.”9
A COMPLIANT CONGRESS
First, over time Congress had blessed many things President Bush
had claimed to be able to do by himself. The PATRIOT Act (2001);
the Military Commissions Act (2006); the “Protect America Act”
(2007); the FISA Amendments Act (2008)—all these gave the
president enhanced and sometimes amorphous powers over national
security. The scope of the surveillance allowed by the PATRIOT Act
and the FISA Amendments, for example, became clear when
whistle-blower Edward Snowden released a cache of National
Security Agency documents starting in 2013.
Another legislative workhorse also helped: the 2001 AUMF
described earlier. Combined with a broad interpretation of the laws
of war, Obama wound up using that AUMF as authority to act against
targets only tangentially related to 9/11 itself. This justified, for
instance, the use of unmanned drones carrying out military
operations in far-flung countries such as Yemen and Somalia. And in
2014 the administration argued that attacks against the terrorist
group calling itself the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL)
had also been authorized by the AUMF—even though ISIL had
broken away from, and was even repudiated by, al-Qaeda. This
argument had potentially unlimited reach: how many degrees of
separation would it permit from al-Qaeda and the original terrorist
architects of 9/11?16
Indeed, the administration was quite willing to interpret extant
statutes in creative ways. In November 2011, for instance, drones
targeted and killed at least two American citizens in Yemen. The
attorney general, claiming that “the Constitution guarantees due
process, not judicial process,” argued that a criminal trial was
unnecessary.17 Instead, the administration renewed broad claims
about the unbounded geographic scope of the war on terror and
defined “imminence” (as in imminent threat) more or less out of
existence.
Another instance of sustained institutional aggrandizement is
found in the prisoner swap that freed American soldier Bowe
Bergdahl in exchange for several Taliban prisoners held at
Guantanamo Bay. The 2014 defense authorization act that President
Obama signed into law had required thirty-day notification to
Congress in advance of a transfer of such detainees. The
administration did not notify Congress. It decided instead that
legislators “did not intend” to bar such action: “the notification
requirement should be construed not to apply to this unique set of
circumstances” because it would “interfere” with “functions that the
Constitution assigns to the president.”18 The difference between this
and a claim of presidential over congressional prerogative was hard
to distinguish.
A third example came with the 2011 operation in Libya, where
the United States and the NATO alliance sought first to protect
refugees against dictator Muammar Gaddafi, and then to protect
militias seeking to overthrow him. Obama first invoked Article II,
noting he was acting “pursuant to my constitutional authority to
conduct U.S. foreign relations and as Commander in Chief and Chief
Executive.” This notification, he said, was “consistent with” the WPR.
But as the WPR “clock” ticked, the administration changed course: it
argued that the law did not apply here at all because the
engagement did not constitute “hostilities,” never mind that U.S. war
planes were dropping real bombs, and real people were being killed.
That term “hostilities,” the president stressed, was meant for the
next Vietnam: “half-a-million soldiers . . ., tens of thousands of lives
lost, hundreds of billions of dollars spent.”19
This rewriting of the WPR was blatant, but presidents had long
skirted the WPR in what they considered “police” actions (for
instance, when Ronald Reagan authorized “imminent danger” pay for
sailors in the Persian Gulf but denied there were “imminent
hostilities” that would invoke the WPR). It has taken a large-scale
contemplated intervention, as in the 1991 and 2003 wars with Iraq,
to persuade presidents to seek advance authorization for the use of
force. Even in those cases they did not admit the need for such
approval. As George H.W. Bush said, “I didn’t have to get permission
from some old goat in Congress to kick Saddam Hussein out of
Kuwait.”20
Typically, modern presidents invoke one of two broad conditions
as justifying the unilateral use of force: a grounding in self-defense
or in an international endorsement that justifies the action. In the
first, presidents rely on the WPR’s permission to use force without
specific authorization in an “attack upon the United States.” Some of
these cases are clear, as with the (failed) rescue attempt of the
American hostages in Iran in 1980 or the 1998 missile strikes
retaliating for the bombing of U.S. embassies in Africa. In others,
presidents have been more creative. The 1989 invasion of Panama
was explained by President Bush as a response to “an imminent
danger to the 35,000 American citizens” there.21 In 1983, President
Reagan justified the Grenada operation likewise: “American lives are
at stake.”22
The blessing of the international community, often on
humanitarian grounds, can also be invoked. In Grenada, Reagan
stressed that its neighbors had invited the United States to respond
and that “this collective action has been forced on us by events that
have . . . no place in any civilized society.” Likewise in Somalia
(1992), Kosovo (1999), and even in Obama’s Libyan and anti-ISIL
operations, presidents cited both humanitarian concerns and treaty
obligations, normally to the United Nations or NATO. The WPR
specifically says such obligations do not bypass the need for
congressional action. Nonetheless, they muddy the legal waters.
Another random document with
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Cincinnati when threatening news began to arrive from Detroit.
Harrison had military knowledge and instincts. He saw that after the
capture of Mackinaw Detroit must fall, and that Hull could save
44
himself only by evacuating it. Harrison’s ambition, which had
drawn him to Tippecanoe, drew him also to lead the new crusade for
the relief or recovery of Detroit. He went to Kentucky at the invitation
of Governor Scott, and under the patronage of Scott and Henry Clay
he took the direction of military affairs. August 24 news reached
Kentucky that Hull was shut in Detroit, and must surrender unless
45
immediately relieved. The Governor of Kentucky at once
summoned what was then called a caucus, composed of himself, his
successor elect Governor Shelby, Henry Clay, Justice Todd of the
United States Supreme Court, Major-General Hopkins of the
46
Kentucky militia, various Congressmen, judges, and other citizens,
whose whole authority was needed to warrant giving to Harrison,
who was not a citizen of Kentucky, the commission of major-general
and the command of the expedition to Detroit. By general
acclamation, and on the warm assurances of universal popular
approval, the measure was taken; and Harrison started at once for
Cincinnati and Detroit to organize the campaign. The news of Hull’s
surrender met him as he left Frankfort.
By this combination of skill and accident, Harrison reached the
object of his ambition,—the conduct of war on a scale equal to his
faith in his own powers; but the torrent of Western enthusiasm swept
him forward faster than his secret judgment approved. Appointed by
caucus the general of volunteers, he could keep his position only by
keeping his popularity. Without deciding precisely where to march, or
what military object to pursue, he talked and acted on the idea that
47
he should recover Detroit by a coup-de-main. He knew that the
idea was baseless as a practical plan, and futile as a military
measure; but nothing less would satisfy the enthusiasm of his
Kentucky volunteers, and the national government almost compelled
him to pretend what he did not at heart believe possible.
The confusion thus created was troublesome. First, Harrison
insisted on commanding the troops marching to relieve Fort Wayne,
and obliged the good-natured General Winchester, who outranked
48
him, to yield the point. Then after a forced march with the
Kentuckians down the St. Mary’s River, having relieved Fort Wayne,
Harrison was obliged, September 19, to surrender the command to
Winchester, who arrived with orders from the Secretary of War to
take general charge of the northwestern army. Harrison then left Fort
Wayne for Piqua. Meanwhile the President and Eustis, learning what
had been done in Kentucky, September 17, after much debate
decided to give to Harrison the commission of brigadier-general, with
the command of the northwestern army, to consist of ten thousand
49
men, with unlimited means and no orders except to retake Detroit.
Brigadier-General Winchester, who was already at Fort Wayne, was
given the option of serving under Harrison, or of joining the army at
Niagara.
These new orders reached Harrison September 25 at Piqua.
Harrison then resumed command, and two days afterward,
September 27, wrote to the secretary, announcing his plan for the
autumn campaign. Three columns of troops, from widely distant
quarters, were to move to the Maumee Rapids,—the right column,
consisting of Virginia and Pennsylvania troops, by way of the
Sandusky River; the centre column, of twelve hundred Ohio militia,
by Hull’s road; the left column, consisting of four Kentucky regiments
and the Seventeenth U. S. Infantry, was to descend the Auglaize
River to Fort Defiance on the Maumee, and thence to fall down that
river to the point of junction with the two other columns.
Compared with Hull’s resources, Harrison’s were immense; and
that he had no serious enemy to fear was evident from his dividing
the army into three columns, which marched by lines far beyond
supporting distance of each other. At the same time he ordered
Major-General Hopkins of the Kentucky militia to march with two
thousand men up the Wabash into the Indian country, and to destroy
the Indian settlements on the Wabash and Illinois rivers. Had a
British force been opposed to the Americans, its general would have
had little difficulty in destroying some one of these four isolated
columns, and driving Harrison back to central Ohio; but only bands
of Indians, not exceeding five hundred at most, were to be feared
before the army should cross the Maumee, and little anxiety existed
on account of enemies, unless for the safety of Fort Wayne.
Harrison’s anxieties bore a different character. September 23 he
wrote to the Secretary of War: “If the fall should be very dry, I will
take Detroit before the winter sets in; but if we should have much
rain, it will be necessary to wait at the rapids until the Miami of the
50
Lakes is sufficiently frozen to bear the army and its baggage.” The
promise was rash. However dry the season might be, the task of
marching an army with siege-artillery past Malden to Detroit, and of
keeping it supplied from a base two hundred miles distant, with the
British commanding the Lake, was one which Harrison had too much
sense to attempt. Nothing but disaster could have resulted from it,
even if Detroit had been taken. In the actual condition of that
territory, no army could be maintained beyond the Maumee River
without controlling the Lake. Perhaps Harrison was fortunate that
constant rains throughout the month of October brought the army to
a halt long before it reached the Maumee. Only the left division of
five Kentucky regiments succeeded in getting to the river, and
camped in the neighborhood of old Fort Defiance, waiting for the
other columns to reach the rapids. There the Kentuckians remained,
under the command of General Winchester, without food, clothing, or
sufficient shelter, in a state of increasing discontent and threatening
mutiny, till the year closed.
Within a month after assuming command Harrison found himself
helpless either to advance or to retreat, or to remain in any fixed
position. The supplies required for ten thousand troops could not be
sent forward by any means then known. October 22 the left column,
consisting of the Kentucky regiments and some regulars, was at
Defiance on the Maumee; the central column of a thousand Ohio
troops under General Tupper was on Hull’s road, a hundred miles
from the Maumee, unable to march beyond Urbana, where its
supplies were collecting; the right column of Pennsylvanians and
Virginians was still farther from the front, slowly approaching the
Sandusky River from the southeast, but far out of reach. General
Hopkins’s expedition up the Wabash ended in failure, his troops
becoming a mere mob, and at last disbanding, leaving their general
to follow them home. Harrison himself was riding indefatigably
through the mud, from one end to the other of his vast concave line,
—now at Defiance, making speeches to pacify Winchester’s
Kentuckians; then at Piqua and Urbana with the Ohioans; soon a
hundred miles away at the river Huron, east of Sandusky; next at
Wooster, Delaware, or Franklinton, afterward Columbus, in the
centre of Ohio, looking for his right wing; but always searching for a
passable ridge of dry land, on which his supplies could go forward to
the Maumee Rapids. The result of his search was given in a letter of
October 22, from Franklinton, to the Secretary of War:—
“I am not able to fix any period for the advance of the troops
to Detroit. It is pretty evident that it cannot be done upon proper
principles until the frost shall become so severe as to enable us
to use the rivers and the margin of the Lake for transportation of
the baggage and artillery upon the ice. To get them forward
through a swampy wilderness of near two hundred miles, in
wagons or on packhorses which are to carry their own
provisions, is absolutely impossible.”
The excuse did not satisfy the Cabinet, who thought they saw
that Harrison wished to throw upon Government the responsibility for
a military failure fatal to himself. Perhaps a simpler motive guided
Harrison, who from the first never had known precisely what to do, or
had seen any clear path to success. He wrote, January 4, from
Franklinton,—
Harrison added that his only fear was lest Winchester should be
overpowered. He waited at the Maumee Rapids two days, until at
noon, January 22, a messenger arrived with disastrous tidings from
the front.
Winchester afterward told the story of his own proceedings with
so much candor that his narrative became a necessary part of any
explanation of his disaster:—
85
“Their appearance,” said Major Richardson, “was
miserable to the last degree. They had the air of men to whom
cleanliness was a virtue unknown, and their squalid bodies were
covered by habiliments that had evidently undergone every
change of season, and were arrived at the last stage of repair....
It was the depth of winter; but scarcely an individual was in
possession of a great coat or cloak, and few of them wore
garments of wool of any description. They still retained their
summer dress, consisting of cotton stuff of various colors
shaped into frocks, and descending to the knee. Their trowsers
were of the same material. They were covered with slouched
hats, worn bare by constant use, beneath which their long hair
fell matted and uncombed over their cheeks; and these, together
with the dirty blankets wrapped round their loins to protect them
against the inclemency of the season, and fastened by broad
leathern belts, into which were thrust axes and knives of an
enormous length, gave them an air of wildness and savageness
which in Italy would have caused them to pass for brigands of
the Apennines. The only distinction between the garb of the
officer and that of the soldier was that the one, in addition to his
sword, carried a short rifle instead of a long one, while a dagger,
often curiously worked and of some value, supplied the place of
the knife.”