Part 14

There is nothing within reach of the President which he has not lavished on ex-Rebels. The power of pardon and amnesty, like the power of appointment, has been used for them, wholesale and retail. It would have been easy to affix a condition to every pardon, requiring, that, before it took effect, the recipient should carve out of his estate a homestead for every one of his freedmen, and thus secure to each what they all covet so much, a piece of land. But the President did no such thing, although, in the words of the old writ, “often requested so to do.” Such a condition would have helped the loyal freedmen, rather than the rebel master. In the same spirit, while undertaking to determine who shall be voters, all colored persons, howsoever loyal, were disfranchised, while all white persons, except certain specified classes, although black with rebellion, were constituted voters on taking a simple oath of allegiance, thus investing ex-Rebels with a prevailing power.

Partisans of the Presidential “policy” are in the habit of declaring it a continuation of the policy of the martyred Lincoln. This is a mistake. Would that he could rise from his bloody shroud to repel the calumny! Happily, he has left his testimony behind, in words which all who have ears to hear can hear. The martyr presented the truth bodily, when he said, in suggestive metaphor, that we must “build up from the sound materials”; but his successor insists upon building from materials rotten with treason and gaping with rebellion. On another occasion, the martyr said that “an attempt to guaranty and protect a _revived_ State government, constructed in whole or _in preponderating part_ from _the very element_ against whose hostility and violence it is to be protected, is _simply absurd_.”[64] But this is the very thing the President is now attempting. He is constructing State governments, not merely in preponderating part, but _in whole_, from the hostile element. Therefore he departs openly from the policy of the martyred Lincoln.

The martyr says to his successor that the policy adopted is “simply absurd.” He is right, although he might say more. Its absurdity is too apparent. It is as if, in abolishing the Inquisition, the inquisitors had been continued under another name, and Torquemada had received a fresh license for cruelty. It is as if King William, after the overthrow of James the Second, had made the infamous Jeffreys Lord Chancellor. Common sense and common justice cry out against the outrage; and yet this is the Presidential “policy” now so passionately commended to the American people.

A state, according to Aristotle, is a “copartnership,” and I accept the term as especially applicable to our government. And now the President, in the exercise of the One Man Power, decrees that communities lately in rebellion shall be taken at once into our “copartnership.” I object to the decree as dangerous to the Republic. I am not against pardon, clemency, or magnanimity, except where they are at the expense of good men. I trust that they will always be practised; but I insist that recent rebels shall not be admitted, without proper precautions, to the business of the firm. And I insist also that the One Man Power shall not be employed to force them into the firm.

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Such are two pivotal blunders. It is not easy to see how he has fallen into these, so strong were his early professions the other way. The powers of Congress he had distinctly admitted. Thus, as early as 24th July, 1865, he had sent to Sharkey, acting by his appointment as Provisional Governor of Mississippi, this despatch: “It must, however, be distinctly understood that the restoration to which your proclamation refers _will be subject to the will of Congress_.” Nothing could be more positive. And he was equally positive against the restoration of Rebels to power. You do not forget, that, in accepting his nomination as Vice-President, he rushed forward to declare that the Rebel States must be remodelled, that confiscation must be enforced, and that Rebels must be excluded from the work of Reconstruction. His language was plain and unmistakable. Announcing that “government must be fixed on the principles of _eternal justice_,” he declared, that, “if the man who gave his influence and his means to destroy the Government should be permitted to participate in the great work of reorganization, then all the precious blood so freely poured out will have been wantonly spilled, and all our victories go for nought.” True, very true. Then, in words of surpassing energy, he cried out, that “the great plantations must be seized and divided into small farms,” and that “traitors should take a back seat in the work of restoration.” Perhaps the true rule was never expressed with more homely and vital force than in this last saying, often repeated in different forms, “For Rebels, back seats.” Add that other saying, as often repeated, “Treason must be made odious,” and you have two great principles of just reconstruction, once proclaimed by the President, but now practically disowned by him.

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You will ask how the President fell. This is hard to say, certainly, without much plainness of speech. Mr. Seward openly confesses that he counselled the present fatal “policy.” Unquestionably the Blairs, father and son, did the same. So also, I doubt not, did Mr. Preston King. It is easy to see that Mr. Seward was not a wise counsellor. This is not his first costly blunder. In formal despatches he early announced that “the rights of the States, and the condition of every human being in them, will remain subject to exactly the same laws and forms of administration, whether the revolution shall succeed or whether it shall fail.”[65] And now he labors for the fulfilment of his own prophecy. Obviously, from the beginning, he has failed to comprehend the Rebellion, while in nature he is abnormal and eccentric, jumping like the knight on the chess-board, rather than moving on straight lines. Undoubtedly the influence of such a man over the President has not been good. But the President himself is his own worst counsellor, as he is his own worst defender. He does not open his mouth without furnishing evidence against himself.

The brave words with which he accepted his nomination as Vice-President resounded through the country. He was elected. Then followed two scenes, each of which filled the people with despair. The first was of the new Vice-President taking the oath of office--in the presence of the foreign ministers, the judges of the Supreme Court, and the Senate--while in such a condition that his attempted speech became trivial and incoherent, and he did not know the name of the Secretary of the Navy, who is now the devoted supporter of his policy, as he has been his recent travelling companion. One month and one week thereafter President Lincoln was assassinated. The people, wrapt in affliction at the great tragedy, trembled as they beheld a drunken man ascend the heights of power. But they were generous and forgiving,--almost forgetful. He was our President, and hands were outstretched to welcome and sustain him. His early utterances as President, although commonplace, loose, and wordy, gave assurance that the Rebellion and its authors would find little favor. Treason was to be made odious.

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At this time my own personal relations with him commenced. I had known him slightly while he was in the Senate; but I lost no time in seeing him after he became President. He received me kindly. I hope that I shall not err, if I allude briefly to what passed between us. You are my constituents, and I wish you to know the Presidential mood at that time, and also what your representative attempted.

Being in Washington during the first month of the new Administration, destined to fill such an unhappy place in history, I saw the President frequently, at the private house he then occupied, or at his office in the Treasury. He had not yet taken possession of the Executive Mansion. The constant topic was “Reconstruction,” which was considered in every variety of aspect. More than once I ventured to press the duty and renown of carrying out the principles of the Declaration of Independence, and of founding the new governments on the consent of the governed, without distinction of color. To this earnest appeal he replied, as I sat with him alone, in words which I can never forget: “On this question, Mr. Sumner, there is no difference between us; you and I are alike.” Need I say that I was touched to the heart by this annunciation, which seemed to promise a victory without a battle? Accustomed to controversy, I saw clearly, that, if the President declared himself for the Equal Rights of All, the good cause must prevail without controversy. Expressing to him my joy and gratitude, I remarked that there should be no division in the great Union party,--that no line should be run through it, on one side of which would be gentlemen calling themselves “the President’s friends,” but we should be kept all together as one seamless garment. To this he promptly replied, “I mean to keep you all together.” Nothing could be better. We were to be kept all together on the principle of Equal Rights. As I walked away, that evening, the battle of my life seemed ended, while the Republic rose before me, refulgent in the blaze of assured freedom, an example to the nations.

On another occasion, during the same period, the case of Tennessee was discussed. I expressed the earnest hope that the President would use his influence directly for the establishment of impartial suffrage in that State, saying that in this way Tennessee would be put at the head of the returning column and be made an example,--in one word, that all the other States would be obliged to dress on Tennessee. The President replied, that, if he were at Nashville, he would see this accomplished. I could not help rejoining, that he need not be at Nashville, for at Washington his hand was on the long end of the lever with which he could easily move all Tennessee,--referring, of course, to the powerful, but legitimate, influence the President might exercise in his own State by the expression of his desires. Let me confess that his hesitation disturbed me; but I attributed it to unnecessary caution, rather than to infidelity. He had been so positive with me, how could I suspect him?

At other times the conversation was renewed. Such was my interest in the question, that I could not see the President without introducing it. As I was about to return home, I said that I desired, even at the risk of repetition, to make some parting suggestions on the constant topic, and that, with his permission, I would proceed point by point, as was the habit of the pulpit in former days. He smiled, and observed pleasantly, “Have I not always listened to you?” I replied, “You have; and I am grateful.” After remarking that the Rebel region was still in military occupation, and that it was the plain duty of the President to use his temporary power for the establishment of correct principles, I proceeded to say: “First, see to it that no newspaper is allowed which is not thoroughly loyal, and does not speak well of the National Government and of Equal Rights”; and here I reminded him of the saying of the Duke of Wellington, that in a place under martial law an unlicensed press is as impossible as on the deck of a ship of war. “Secondly, let the officers that you send, as military governors or otherwise, be known for devotion to Equal Rights, so that their names alone will be a proclamation, while their simple presence will help educate the people”; and here I mentioned Major-General Carl Schurz, who still held his commission in the army, as such a person. “Thirdly, encourage the population to resume the profitable labors of agriculture, commerce, and manufactures without delay,--but for the present to avoid politics. Fourthly, keep the whole region under these good influences, and at the proper moment hand over the subject of Reconstruction, with the great question of Equal Rights, to the judgment of Congress, where it belongs.” All this the President received with perfect kindness, and I mention this with the more readiness because I remember to have seen in the papers a very different statement.

Only a short time afterwards there was a change, which seemed like a somersault or an apostasy; and then ensued a strange sight. Instead of faithful Unionists, recent Rebels thronged the Presidential antechambers, rejoicing in new-found favor. They made speeches at the President, and he made speeches at them. A mutual sympathy was manifest. On one occasion the President announced himself a “Southern man” with “Southern sympathies,” thus quickening that sectional flame which good men hoped to see quenched forever. Alas! if, after all our terrible sacrifices, we are still to have a President who does not know how to spurn every sectional appeal and make himself representative of all! Unhappily, whatever the President said or did was sectional. He showed himself constantly a sectionalist. Instead of telling the ex-Rebels who thronged the Presidential antechambers, as he should have done, that he was their friend, that he wished them well from the bottom of his heart, that he longed to see their fields yield an increase, with peace in all their borders, and that, to this end, he counselled them to pursue agriculture, commerce, and manufactures, and for the present to say nothing about politics,--instead of this, he sent them away talking and thinking of nothing but politics, and frantic for the reëstablishment of a sectional power. Instead of designating officers of the army as military governors, which I had supposed he would do, he appointed ex-Rebels, who could not take the oath required by Congress of all officers of the United States, and they in turn appointed ex-Rebels to office under them; so that participation in the Rebellion found reward, and treason, instead of being made odious, became the passport to power. Everywhere ex-Rebels came out of hiding-places. They walked the streets defiantly, and asserted their old domination. Under auspices of the President, a new campaign was planned against the Republic, and they who failed in open war now sought to enter the very citadel of political power. Victory, purchased by so much loyal blood and treasure, was little better than a cipher. Slavery itself revived in the spirit of Caste. Faithful men who had been trampled down by the Rebellion were trampled down still more by these Presidential governments. For the Unionist there was no liberty of the press or liberty of speech, and the lawlessness of Slavery began to rage anew.

Every day brought tidings that the Rebellion was reappearing in its essential essence. Amidst all professions of submission, there was immitigable hate to the National Government, and prevailing injustice to the freedman. This was last autumn. I was then in Boston. Moved by desire to arrest this fatal tendency, I appealed by letter to members of the Cabinet, entreating them to stand firm against a “policy” which promised nothing but disaster. As soon as the elections were over, I appealed directly to the President himself, by a telegraphic despatch, as follows:--

“BOSTON, November 12, 1865.

“TO THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, WASHINGTON.

“As a faithful friend and supporter of your administration, I most respectfully petition you to suspend for the present your policy towards the Rebel States. I should not present this prayer, if I were not painfully convinced that thus far it has failed to obtain any reasonable guaranties for that security in the future which is essential to peace and reconciliation. To my mind, it abandons the freedmen to the control of their ancient masters, and leaves the national debt exposed to repudiation by returning Rebels. The Declaration of Independence asserts the equality of all men, and that rightful government can be founded only on the consent of the governed. I see small chance of peace, unless these great principles are practically established. Without this, the house will continue divided against itself.

“CHARLES SUMNER, “_Senator of the United States_.”

Reaching Washington Saturday evening, immediately before the opening of the last session of Congress, I lost no time in seeing the President. I was with him that evening three hours. I found him changed in temper and purpose. How unlike that President who, only a few days after arrival at power, made me feel so happy in the assurance of agreement on the great question! No longer sympathetic, or even kindly, he was harsh, petulant, and unreasonable. Plainly, his heart was with ex-Rebels. For the Unionist, white or black, who had borne the burden of the day, he had little feeling. He would not see the bad spirit of the Rebel States, and insisted that the outrages there were insufficient to justify exclusion from Congress. The following dialogue ensued.

THE PRESIDENT. Are there no murders in Massachusetts?

MR. SUMNER. Unhappily, yes,--sometimes.

THE PRESIDENT. Are there no assaults in Boston? Do not men there sometimes knock each other down, so that the police is obliged to interfere?

MR. SUMNER. Unhappily, yes.

THE PRESIDENT. Would you consent that Massachusetts, on this account, should be excluded from Congress?

MR. SUMNER. No, Mr. President, I would not.

And here I stopped, without remarking on the entire irrelevancy of the inquiry. I left the President that night with the painful conviction that his whole soul was set as flint against the good cause, and that by the assassination of Abraham Lincoln the Rebellion had vaulted into the Presidential chair. Jefferson Davis was then in the casemates at Fortress Monroe, but Andrew Johnson was doing his work.

“Ah! what avails it, … If the gulled conqueror receives the chain, And flattery subdues, when arms are vain?”

From this time forward I was not in doubt as to his “policy,” which asserted a condition of things in the Rebel region inconsistent with the terrible truth. It was, therefore, natural that I should characterize one of his messages, covering over the enormities there, as “whitewashing.” This mild term was thought by some too strong. Subsequent events have shown that it was too weak. The whole Rebel region is little better than a “whited sepulchre.” It is that saddest of all sepulchres, the sepulchre of Human Rights. The dead men’s bones are the remains of faithful Union soldiers, dead on innumerable fields, or stifled in the pens of Andersonville and Belle Isle,--also of constant Unionists, white and black, whom we are sacredly bound to protect, now murdered on highways and by-ways, or slaughtered at Memphis and New Orleans. The uncleanness is injustice, wrong, and outrage, having a loathsome stench; and the President is engaged in “whiting” over these things, so that they shall not be seen by the American people. To do this, he garbles a despatch of Sheridan, and abuses the hospitality of the country by a travelling speech, where every word, not foolish, vulgar, and vindictive, is a vain attempt at “whitewashing.”

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Meanwhile the Presidential madness is more than ever manifest. It has shown itself in frantic effort to defeat the Constitutional Amendment proposed by Congress for adoption by the people. By this Amendment certain safeguards are established. Citizenship is defined, and protection is assured at least in what are called civil rights. The basis of representation is fixed on the number of voters, so that, if colored citizens are not allowed to vote, they will not by their numbers contribute to representative power, and one voter in South Carolina will not be able to neutralize two voters in Massachusetts or Illinois. Ex-Rebels who had taken an oath to support the Constitution are excluded from office, National or State. The National debt is guarantied, while the Rebel debt and all claim for slaves are annulled. All these essential safeguards are rudely rejected by the President.

The madness that would set aside provisions so essentially just, whose only error is inadequacy, has broken forth naturally in brutal utterance, where he has charged persons by name with seeking his life, and has stimulated a mob against them. It is difficult to surpass the criminality of this act. The violence of the President has provoked violence. His words were dragon’s teeth, which have sprung up armed men. Witness Memphis; witness New Orleans. Who can doubt that the President is author of these tragedies? Charles the Ninth of France was not more completely author of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew than Andrew Johnson is author of the recent massacres now crying out for judgment. History records that the guilty king was pursued in the silence of night by the imploring voices of murdered men, mingled with curses and imprecations, while ghosts stalked through his chamber, until he sweated blood from every pore; and when he came to die, his soul, wrung with the tortures of remorse, stammered out, “Ah, nurse, my good nurse! what blood! what murders! Oh, what bad counsels I followed! Lord God, pardon me! have mercy on me!” Like causes produce like effects. The blood at Memphis and New Orleans must cry out until heard, and a guilty President may suffer the retribution which followed a guilty king.

The evil he has done already is on such a scale that it is impossible to measure it, unless as you measure an arc of the globe. I doubt if in all history there is any ruler who in the same brief space of time has done so much. There have been kings and emperors, proconsuls and satraps, who have exercised tyrannical power; but facilities of communication now lend swiftness and extension to all evil influences, so that the President is able to do in a year what in other days would have taken a life. Nor is the evil confined to any narrow spot. It is coextensive with the Republic. Next to Jefferson Davis stands Andrew Johnson as its worst enemy. The whole country has suffered; but the Rebel region has suffered most. He should have sent peace; instead, he sent a sword. Behold the consequences!

In support of a cruel “policy” he has not hesitated to use his enormous patronage. President Lincoln said, familiarly, that, as the people had continued him in office, he supposed they meant that others should be continued also; and he refused to make removals. But President Johnson announces “rotation in office”; and then, warming in anger against all failing to sustain his “policy,” he roars that he will “kick them out.” Men appointed by the martyred Lincoln are to be “kicked out” by the successor, while he pretends to sustain the policy of the martyr. The language of the President is most suggestive. He “kicks” the friends of his well-loved predecessor; and he also “kicks” the careful counsel of that well-loved predecessor, that we must “build up from the sound materials.”