Address at the Opening of the Annual Lectures of the Parker
Fraternity, at the Music Hall, Boston, October 2, 1866.
MR. PRESIDENT,—More than a year has passed
since I last had the honor of addressing my fellow-citizens
of Massachusetts. I then dwelt on what seemed
the proper policy towards the States recently in rebellion,—insisting
that it was our duty, while renouncing
Indemnity for the past, to obtain at least Security for
the future; and this security, I maintained, could be
found only in exclusion of ex-Rebels from political power,
and in irreversible guaranties especially applicable to
the national creditor and the national freedman.[59] During
intervening months, the country has been agitated by
this question, which was perplexed by unexpected difference
between the President and Congress. The President
insists upon installing ex-Rebels in political power,
and sets at nought the claim of guaranties and the idea
of security for the future, while he denies to Congress
any control over the question, taking it all to himself.
Congress asserts control, and endeavors to exclude ex-Rebels
from political power and establish guaranties, to
the end that there may be security for the future.
Meanwhile the States recently in rebellion, with the exception
of Tennessee, are without representation. Thus
stands the case.
The two parties are the President, on the one side,
and the people of the United States in Congress assembled,
on the other side,—the first representing the Executive,
the second representing the Legislative. It is
The One Man Power vs. Congress. Of course, each performs
its part in the government; but until now it
has always been supposed that the legislative gave law
to the executive, and not that the executive gave law
to the legislative. This irrational assumption becomes
more astonishing, when it is considered that the actual
President, besides being the creature of circumstance, is
inferior in ability and character, while the House of
Representatives is eminent in both respects. A President
who has already sunk below any other President,
even James Buchanan, madly undertakes to rule
a House of Representatives which there is reason to
believe is the best that has sat since the formation of
the Constitution. Looking at the two parties, we are
tempted to exclaim, Such a President dictating to such
a Congress! It was said of Gustavus Adolphus, that
he drilled the Diet of Sweden to vote or be silent at
the word of command; but Andrew Johnson is not
Gustavus Adolphus, and the American Congress is not
the Diet of Sweden.
The question at issue is one of the vastest ever presented
for practical decision, involving the name and
weal of the Republic at home and abroad. It is not
a military question; it is a question of statesmanship.
We are to secure by counsel what was won by war.
Failure now will make the war itself a failure; surrender
now will undo all our victories. Let the President
prevail, and straightway the plighted faith of the
Republic will be broken,—the national creditor and the
national freedman will be sacrificed,—the Rebellion itself
will flaunt its insulting power,—the whole country,
in length and breadth, will be disturbed,—and the
Rebel region will be handed over to misrule and anarchy.
Let Congress prevail, and all this will be reversed:
the plighted faith of the Republic will be preserved;
the national creditor and the national freedman
will be protected; the Rebellion itself will be trampled
out forever; the whole country, in length and breadth,
will be at peace; and the Rebel region, no longer harassed
by controversy and degraded by injustice, will
enjoy the richest fruits of security and reconciliation.
To labor for this cause may well tempt the young and
rejoice the old.
And now, to-day, I again protest against any present
admission of ex-Rebels to the great partnership of this
Republic, and I renew the claim of irreversible guaranties,
especially applicable to the national creditor and
the national freedman,—insisting now, as I did a year
ago, that it is our duty, while renouncing Indemnity
for the past, to obtain at least Security for the future.
At the close of a terrible war, wasting our treasure,
murdering our fellow-citizens, filling the land with funerals,
maiming and wounding multitudes whom Death
had spared, and breaking up the very foundations of
peace, our first duty is to provide safeguards for the
future. This can be only by provisions, sure, fundamental,
and irrepealable, fixing forever the results of
the war, the obligations of the Government, and the
equal rights of all. Such is the suggestion of common
prudence and of self-defence, as well as of common
honesty. To this end we must make haste slowly.
States which precipitated themselves out of Congress
must not be permitted to precipitate themselves back.
They must not enter the Halls they treasonably deserted,
until we have every reasonable assurance of
future good conduct. We must not admit them, and
then repent our folly. The verses in which the satirist
renders the quaint conceit of the old Parliamentary
orator, verses revived by Mr. Webster, and on another
occasion used by myself, furnish the key to our duty:—
“I hear a lion in the lobby roar:
Say, Mr. Speaker, shall we shut the door,
And keep him there? or shall we let him in,
To try if we can turn him out again?”
[60]
I am against letting the monster in, until he is no
longer terrible in mouth or paw.
But, while holding this ground of prudence, I desire
to disclaim every sentiment of vengeance or punishment,
and also every thought of delay or procrastination.
Here I do not yield to the President, or to
any other person. Nobody more anxious than I to
see this chasm closed forever.
There is a long way and a short way. There is a
long time and a short time. If there be any whose
policy is for the longest way or for the longest time,
I am not of the number. I am for the shortest way,
and also for the shortest time. And I object to the interference
of the President, because, whether intentionally
or unintentionally, he interposes delay and keeps
the chasm open. More than all others, the President,
by officious assumptions, has lengthened the way and
lengthened the time. Of this there can be no doubt.
From all quarters we learn that after the surrender
of Lee the Rebels were ready for any terms, if they
could escape with life. They were vanquished, and
they knew it. The Rebellion was crushed, and they
knew it. They hardly expected to save a small fraction
of property. They did not expect to save political
power. They were too sensible not to see that
participants in rebellion could not pass at once into
the copartnership of government. They made up their
minds to exclusion. They were submissive. There was
nothing they would not do, even to the extent of enfranchising
the freedmen and providing for them homesteads.
Had the National Government taken advantage of this
plastic condition, it might have stamped Equal Rights
upon the whole people, as upon molten wax, while it
fixed the immutable conditions of permanent peace.
The question of Reconstruction would have been settled
before it arose. It is sad to think that this was
not done. Perhaps in all history there is no instance
of such an opportunity lost. Truly should our country
say in penitential supplication, “We have left undone
those things which we ought to have done, and
we have done those things which we ought not to have
done.”
Do not take this on my authority. Listen to those
on the spot, who have seen with their own eyes. A
brave officer of our army writes from Alabama:—
“I believe the mass of the people could have been easily
controlled, if none of the excepted classes had received pardon.
These classes did not expect anything more than life,
and even feared for that. Let me condense the whole subject.
At the surrender, the South could have been moulded
at will; but it is now as stiff-necked and rebellious as ever.”
In the same vein another officer testifies from Texas:—
“There is one thing, however, that is making against
the speedy return of quietness, not only in this State, but
throughout the entire South, and that is the Reconstruction
policy of President Johnson. It is doing more to unsettle
this country than people who are not practical observers of
its workings have any idea of. Before this policy was made
known, the people were prepared to accept anything. They
expected to be treated as rebels,—their leaders being punished,
and the property of others confiscated. But the moment
it was made known, all their assurance returned. Rebels
have again become arrogant and exacting; Treason stalks
through the land unabashed.”
This testimony might be multiplied indefinitely. From
city and country, from highway and by-way, there is but
one voice. When, therefore, the President, in opprobrious
terms, complains of Congress as interposing delay, I
reply to him: “No, Sir, it is you, who, by unexpected
and most perverse assumption, have put off the glad
day of security and reconciliation, so much longed for.
It is you who have inaugurated anew that malignant
sectionalism, which, so long as it exists, will keep the
Union divided in fact, if not in name. Sir, you are
the Disunionist.”
Glance, if you please, at that Presidential policy—so
constantly called “my policy”—now so vehemently
pressed upon the country, and you will find that it
pivots on at least two alarming blunders, as can be
easily seen: first, in setting up the One Man Power
as the source of jurisdiction over this great question;
and, secondly, in using the One Man Power for the
restoration of Rebels to place and influence, so that
good Unionists, whether white or black, are rejected,
and the Rebellion itself is revived in the new governments.
Each of these assumptions is an enormous
blunder. You see that I use a mild term to characterize
such a double-headed usurpation.
Pray, Sir, where in the Constitution do you find any
sanction of the One Man Power as source of this extraordinary
jurisdiction? I had always supposed that
the President was the Executive,—bound to see the
laws faithfully executed, but not empowered to make
laws. The Constitution expressly says: “The Executive
power shall be vested in a President of the United
States of America.” But the Legislative power is elsewhere.
According to the Constitution, “All Legislative
powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress
of the United States, which shall consist of a
Senate and House of Representatives.” And yet the
President has assumed legislative power, even to the
extent of making laws and constitutions for States.
You all know, that, at the close of the war, when the
Rebel States were without lawful governments, he assumed
to supply them. In this business of Reconstruction
he assumed to determine who should vote,
and also to affix conditions for adoption by the conventions.
Look, if you please, at the character of this
assumption. The President, from the Executive Mansion
at Washington, reaches his long executive arm
into certain States and dictates constitutions. Surely
here is nothing executive; it is not even military. It
is legislative, pure and simple, and nothing else. It
is an attempt by the One Man Power to do what can
be done only by the legislative branch of Government.
And yet the President, perversely absorbing to himself
all power over the reconstruction of the Rebel States,
insists that Congress must accept his work without
addition or subtraction. He can impose conditions:
Congress cannot. He can determine who shall vote:
Congress cannot. His jurisdiction is not only complete,
but exclusive. If all this be so, then has our President
a most extraordinary power, never before dreamed of.
He may exclaim, with Louis the Fourteenth, “The
State, it is I,” while, like this magnificent king, he sacrifices
the innocent, and repeats that fatal crime, the
revocation of the Edict of Nantes. His whole “policy”
is “revocation” of all that has been promised and all
we have a right to expect.
Here it is well to note a distinction, not without importance
in the issue between the President and Congress.
Nobody doubts that the President may, during
war, govern any conquered territory as commander-in-chief,
and for this purpose detail any military officer
as military governor. But it is one thing to govern a
State temporarily by military power, and quite another
thing to create a constitution for a State which shall
continue when the military power has expired. The former
is a military act, and belongs to the President;
the latter is a civil act, and belongs to Congress. On
this distinction I stand; and this is not the first time
that I have asserted it. Of course, governments set
up in this illegitimate way are necessarily illegitimate,
except so far as they acquire validity from time or
subsequent recognition. It needs no learned Chief Justice
of North Carolina solemnly to declare this. It is
manifest from the nature of the case.
But this illegitimacy becomes still more manifest,
when it is known that the constitutions which the
President orders and tries to cram upon Congress have
never been submitted to popular vote. Each is the naked
offspring of an illegitimate convention called into
being by the President, in the exercise of illegitimate
power.
There is another provision of the Constitution, by
which, according to a judgment of the Supreme Court
of the United States, this question is referred to Congress,
and not to the President. I refer to the provision
that “the United States shall guaranty to every
State in this Union a republican form of government.”
On these words Chief Justice Taney, speaking for the
Supreme Court, has adjudged, that “it rests with Congress
to decide what government is the established one
in a State; for, as the United States guaranty to each
State a republican government, Congress must necessarily
decide what government is established in the State, before
it can determine whether it is republican or not”; and
that “unquestionably a military government established
as the permanent government of the State would not be
a republican government, and it would be the duty of
Congress to overthrow it.”[61] But the President sets at
nought this commanding text, reinforced by the positive
judgment of the Supreme Court, and claims this
extraordinary power for himself, to the exclusion of
Congress. He is “the United States.” In him the Republic
is manifest. He can do all; Congress nothing.
And now the whole country is summoned by the
President to recognize State governments created by
constitutions thus illegitimate in origin and character.
Without considering if they contain the proper elements
of security for the future, or if they are republican
in form, and without any inquiry into the
validity of their adoption,—nay, in the very face of
testimony showing that they contain no elements of
security for the future, that they are not republican in
form, and that they have never been adopted by the
loyal people,—we are commanded to accept them;
and when we hesitate, the President, himself leading
the outcry, assails us with angry vituperation, blunted,
it must be confessed, by coarseness without precedent
and without bound. It is well that such a cause has
such an advocate.
Thus setting up the One Man Power as a source
of jurisdiction, the President has committed a blunder
of Constitutional Law, proceeding from an immense egotism,
in which the little pronoun “I” plays a gigantic
part. It is “I” vs. The People of the United States
in Congress assembled. On this unnatural blunder I
might say more; but I have said enough. My present
purpose is accomplished, if I make you see it
clearly.
The other blunder is of a different character. It is
giving present power to ex-Rebels, at the expense of
constant Unionists, white or black, and employing them
in the work of Reconstruction, so that the new governments
continue to represent the Rebellion. This
same blunder, when committed by one of the heroes
of the war, was promptly overruled by the President
himself; but Andrew Johnson now does what Sherman
was not allowed to do. The blunder is strange
and unaccountable.
Here the evidence is constant and cumulative. It
begins with his proclamation for the reconstruction of
North Carolina. Holden was appointed Provisional
Governor,—an officer unknown to law, and for whom
there was no provision,—although it was notorious that
he had been a member of the Convention which adopted
the Act of Secession, and that he signed it. Then
came Perry, Provisional Governor of South Carolina,
who, besides holding a judicial station under the Rebel
Government, was one of its Commissioners of Impressments.
I have a Rebel newspaper containing one of
his advertisements in the latter character. There also
was Parsons, Provisional Governor of Alabama, who
in 1863 introduced into the Legislature of that State
formal resolutions tendering to Jefferson Davis “hearty
thanks for his good labors in the cause of our common
country, together with the assurance of continued
support,”—and afterwards, in 1864, denounced our national
debt, exclaiming in the Legislature: “Does any
sane man suppose we will consent to pay their [the
United States] war debt, contracted in sending armies
and navies to burn our towns and cities, to lay waste
our country,—whose soldiers have robbed and murdered
our peaceful inhabitants?” Such were the agents
appointed by the President to institute loyal governments.
But this selection becomes more strange and
unaccountable, when it is considered that all this was
done in defiance of law.
There is a recent enactment of Congress requiring
that no person shall be appointed to any office of the
United States, unless such office has been created by
law.[62] And there is another enactment of Congress, providing
that all officers, civil or military, before entering
upon their official duties or receiving any salary or compensation,
shall take an oath declaring that they have
held no office under the Rebellion or given any aid
thereto.[63] In face of these enactments, which are sufficiently
explicit, the President began his work of Reconstruction
by appointing civilians to an office absolutely
unknown to law, when besides they could not
take the required oath of office; and to complete the
disregard of Congress, he fixed their salary, and paid
it out of the funds of the War Department.
Of course such proceeding was an instant encouragement
and license to all ex-Rebels, no matter how much
blood was on their hands. Rebellion was at a premium.
It was easy to see, that, if these men were
good enough to be governors of States, in defiance of
Congress, all others in the same political predicament
would be good enough for inferior offices. And it was
so. From top to bottom these States were organized
by men who had been warring on their country. Ex-Rebels
were appointed by the governors or chosen by
the people everywhere. Ex-Rebels sat in Conventions
and in Legislatures. Ex-Rebels became judges, justices
of the peace, sheriffs, and everything else,—while the
faithful Unionist, white or black, was rejected. As
with Cordelia, his love was “according to his bond, nor
more nor less”; but all this was of no avail. How
often during the war have I pleaded for such patriots,
and urged to every effort for their redemption!—and
now, when our arms have prevailed, it is they who
are cast down, while the enemies of the Republic are
exalted. The pirate Semmes returns from his ocean
cruise to be chosen Probate Judge,—leaping from the
deck of the Ship Alabama to the judicial bench of the
State Alabama. In New Orleans the Rebel mayor at
the surrender to the national flag is once more mayor,
and employs his regained power in the terrible massacre
which rises in judgment against the Presidential
policy. Persons are returned to Congress whose service
in the Rebellion makes it impossible for them to
take the oath of office,—as in the case of Georgia, which
selects as Senators Herschel V. Johnson, a Senator of
the Rebel Congress, and Alexander H. Stephens, Vice-President
of the Rebellion. These are instances; but
from these learn all.
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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.”
That I may give practical direction to these remarks,
let me tell you plainly what must be done. In the
first place, Congress must be sustained in its conflict
with the One Man Power; and, in the second place,
ex-Rebels must not be hurried back to power. Bearing
in mind these two things, the way is easy. Of
course, the Constitutional Amendment must be adopted.
As far as it goes, it is well; but it does not go far
enough. More is necessary. Impartial suffrage must
be established. A homestead must be secured to every
freedman, if in no other way, through the pardoning
power. If to these is added education, there will be a
new order of things, with liberty of the press, liberty
of speech, and liberty of travel, so that Wendell Phillips
may speak freely in Charleston or Mobile. There is
an old English play under the name of “The Four P’s.”
Our present desires may be symbolized by four E’s,—standing
for Emancipation, Enfranchisement, Equality,
and Education. Securing these, all else will follow.
I can never cease to regret that Congress hesitated
by proper legislation to assume temporary jurisdiction
over the whole Rebel region. To my mind the power
was ample and unquestionable, whether in the exercise
of belligerent rights or in the exercise of rights directly
from the Constitution itself. In this way everything
needful might have been accomplished. Through this
just jurisdiction the Rebel communities might have been
fashioned anew, and shaped to loyalty and virtue. The
President lost a great opportunity at the beginning.
Congress has lost another. But it is not too late. If
indisposed to assume this jurisdiction by an Enabling
Act constituting provisional governments, there are
many things Congress may do, acting indirectly or directly.
Acting indirectly, it may insist that Emancipation,
Enfranchisement, Equality, and Education shall
be established as conditions precedent to the recognition
of any State whose institutions have been overthrown
by rebellion.[66] Acting directly, it may, by Constitutional
Amendment, or by simple legislation, fix all
these forever.
You are aware that from the beginning I have insisted
upon Impartial Suffrage as the only certain guaranty
of security and reconciliation. I renew this persistence,
and mean to hold on to the end. Every argument,
every principle, every sentiment is in its favor.
But there is one reason which at this moment I place
above all others: it is the necessity of the case. You
require the votes of colored persons in the Rebel States
to sustain the Union itself. Without their votes you
cannot build securely for the future. Their ballots will
be needed in time to come much more than their muskets
were needed in time past. For the sake of the
white Unionists, and for their protection,—for the sake
of the Republic itself, whose peace is imperilled, I appeal
for justice to the colored race. Give the ballot to
the colored citizen, and he will be not only assured in
his own rights, but the timely defender of yours. By
a singular Providence your security is linked inseparably
with the recognition of his rights. Deny him, if
you will: it is at your peril.
But it is said, Leave this question to the States; and
State rights are pleaded against the power of Congress.
This has been the cry: at the beginning, to prevent effort
against the Rebellion; and now, at the end, to prevent
effort against a revival of the Rebellion. Whichsoever
way we turn, we encounter the cry. But yielding
now, you will commit the very error of President
Buchanan, when at the beginning he declared that we
could not “coerce” a State. Nobody now doubts that
a State in rebellion may be “coerced”; and to my
mind it is equally clear that a State just emerging
from rebellion may be “coerced” to the condition required
by the public peace.
There are powers of Congress, not derived from the
Rebellion, which are adequate to this exigency; and
now is the time to exercise them, and thus complete
the work. It was the Nation that decreed Emancipation,
and the Nation must see to it, by every obligation
of honor and justice, that Emancipation is secured.
It is not enough that Slavery is abolished in name.
The Baltimore platform, on which President Johnson
was elected, requires the “utter and complete extirpation
of Slavery from the soil of the Republic”; but this
can be accomplished only by the eradication of every
inequality and caste, so that all shall be equal before
the law.
Be taught by Russia. The Emperor there did not content
himself with naked Emancipation. He followed
this glorious act with minute provisions for rights of all
kinds,—as, to hold property, to sue and testify in court,
to vote, and to enjoy the advantages of education. All this
by the same power which decreed Emancipation.
Be taught also by England, speaking by her most
illustrious statesmen, who solemnly warn against trusting
to any local authorities for justice to the colored
race. I begin with Burke, who saw all questions with
the intuitions of the statesman, and expressed himself
with the eloquence of the orator. Here are his words,
uttered in 1792:—
“I have seen what has been done by the West Indian
Assemblies [in reference to the improvement of the condition
of the negro]. It is arrant trifling. They have done little;
and what they have done is good for nothing,—for it is
totally destitute of an executory principle.”[67]
Should we leave this question to the States, we, too,
should find all they did “arrant trifling,” and wanting
“an executory principle.”
Edmund Burke was followed shortly afterwards by
Canning, who, in 1799, exclaimed:—
“There is something in the nature of the relation between
the despot and his slave which must vitiate and render nugatory
and null whatever laws the former might make for
the benefit of the latter,—which, however speciously these
laws might be framed, however well adapted they might
appear to the evils which they were intended to alleviate,
must infallibly be marred and defeated in the execution.”[68]
Then again he says:—
“Trust not the masters of slaves in what concerns legislation
for slavery. However specious their laws may appear,
depend upon it, they must be ineffectual in their application.
It is in the nature of things that they should be so.…
Their laws can never reach, will never cure the evil.…
There is something in the nature of absolute authority, in the
relation between master and slave, which makes despotism,
in all cases and under all circumstances, an incompetent and
unsure executor even of its own provisions in favor of the
objects of its power.”[69]
The same testimony was repeated at a later day by
Brougham, who, in one of his most remarkable speeches,
while protesting against leaving to the colonies legislation
for the freedmen, said,—
“I entirely concur in the observations of Mr. Burke, repeated
and more happily expressed by Mr. Canning: that the
masters of slaves are not to be trusted with making laws
upon slavery; that nothing they do is ever found effectual;
and that, if, by some miracle, they ever chance to enact a
wholesome regulation, it is always found to want what Mr.
Burke calls the executory principle,—it fails to execute itself.”[70]
Such is the concurring authority of three statesmen
orators, whose eloquent voices unite to warn against
trusting the freedmen to their old masters.
Reason is in harmony with this authoritative testimony.
It is not natural to suppose that people who
have claimed property in their brethren, God’s children,—who
have indulged that “wild and guilty fantasy
that man can hold property in man,”—will become
at once the kind and just legislators of freedmen.
It is unnatural to expect it. Even if they have made
up their minds to Emancipation, they are, from inveterate
habit and prejudice, incapable of justice to the
colored race. There is the President himself, who once
charmed the country and the age by announcing himself
the “Moses” of their redemption; and yet he now
exerts all his mighty power against the establishment
of safeguards without which there can be no true redemption.
In present discussion, the old proslavery
spirit that was in him, with hostility to principles and
to men, comes out anew,—as, on the application of
heat, the old tunes frozen up in the bugle of Baron
Munchausen were set a-going and broke forth freshly.
People do not change suddenly or completely. The
old devils are not all cast out at once. Even the best
of converts sometimes backslide. From so grave a
writer as Southey, in his History of Brazil, we learn
that a woman accustomed to consider human flesh an
exquisite dainty was converted to Christianity in extreme
old age. The faithful missionary strove at once
to minister to her wants, and asked if there was any
particular food she could take, suggesting various delicacies;
to all which the venerable convert replied:
“My stomach goes against everything. There is but
one thing which I think I could touch. If I had the
little hand of a little tender Tapuya boy, I think I
could pick the little bones. But, woe is me! there
is nobody to go out and shoot one for me!”[71] In
similar spirit our Presidential convert now yearns for
a taste of those odious pretensions which were a part
of Slavery.
Now, when a person thus situated, with great responsibilities
to his country and to history, bound by
public professions and by political associations, who
has declared himself against Slavery, and has every
motive for perseverance to the end,—when such a
person openly seeks to preserve its odious pretensions,
are we not admonished again how unsafe it must be
to trust old masters, under no responsibility and no
pledge, with the power of legislating for freedmen? I
protest against it.
I claim this power for the Nation. If it be said
that the power has never been employed, then I say
that the time has come for its employment. I claim
it on at least three several grounds.
1. There is the Constitutional Amendment, already
adopted by the people, which invests Congress with
plenary powers to secure the abolition of Slavery,—ay,
its “extirpation,” according to the promise of the
Baltimore platform,—including the right to sue and
testify in court, and the right also to vote. The distinction
attempted between what are called civil rights
and political rights is a modern invention. These two
words in their origin have the same meaning. One
is derived from the Latin, and the other from the Greek.
Each signifies what pertains to a city or citizen. Besides,
if the elective franchise seem “appropriate” to
assure the “extirpation” of Slavery, Congress has the
same power to secure this right that it has to secure
the right to sue and testify in courts, which it has
already done. Every argument, every reason, every
consideration, by which you assert the power for the
protection of colored persons in what are called civil
rights, is equally strong for their protection in what
are called political rights. In each case you legislate
to the same end,—that the freedman may be maintained
in the liberty so tardily accorded; and the legislation
is just as “appropriate” in one case as in the
other.
2. There is also that distinct clause of the Constitution
requiring the United States to “guaranty to
every State in this Union a republican form of government.”
Here is a source of power as yet unused. The
time has come for its use. Let it be declared that a
State which disfranchises any portion of its citizens
by a discrimination in its nature insurmountable, as
in the case of color, cannot be considered a republican
government. The principle is obvious, and its practical
adoption would ennoble the country and give to
mankind a new definition of republican government.
3. Another reason with me is peremptory. There
is no discrimination of color in the allegiance you require.
Colored citizens, like white citizens, owe allegiance
to the United States; therefore they may claim
protection as an equivalent. In other words, allegiance
and protection must be reciprocal. As you claim allegiance
of colored citizens, you must accord protection.
One is the consideration of the other. And this protection
must be in all the rights of citizens, civil and
political. Thus again do I bring home to the National
Government this solemn duty. If this has not been
performed in times past, it was on account of the tyrannical
influence of Slavery, which perverted our Government.
But, thank God! that influence is overthrown.
Vain are the victories of the war, if this influence
continues to tyrannize. Formerly the Constitution
was interpreted always for Slavery. I insist,
that, from this time forward, it shall be interpreted
always for Freedom. This is the great victory of the
war,—or rather, it is the crowning result of all the
victories.
One of the most important battles in the world’s
history was that of Tours, in France, where the Mahometans,
who had come up from Spain, contended
with the Christians under Charles the Hammer. On
this historic battle Gibbon remarks, that, had the result
been different, “perhaps the interpretation of the
Koran would now be taught in the schools of Oxford,
and her pulpits might demonstrate to a circumcised
people the sanctity and truth of the revelation of Mahomet.”[72]
Thus was Christianity saved; and thus by
our victories has Liberty been saved. Had the Rebels
prevailed, Slavery would have had voices everywhere,
even in the Constitution itself. But it is Liberty now
that must have voices everywhere, and the greatest
voice of all in the National Constitution and the laws
made in pursuance thereof.
In this cause I cannot be frightened by words. There
is a cry against “Centralization,” “Consolidation,” “Imperialism,”—all
of which are bad enough, when dedicated
to any purpose of tyranny. As the House of
Representatives is renewed every two years, it is inconceivable
that such a body, fresh from the people
and promptly returning to the people, can become a
Tyranny, especially when seeking safeguards for Human
Rights. A government inspired by Liberty is as wide
apart from Tyranny as Heaven from Hell. There can
be no danger in Liberty assured by central authority;
nor can there be danger in any powers to uphold Liberty.
Such a centralization, such a consolidation,—ay,
Sir, such an imperialism,—would be to the whole
country a well-spring of security, prosperity, and renown.
As well find danger in the Declaration of Independence
and the Constitution itself, which speak with
central power; as well find danger in those central laws
which govern the moral and material world, binding
men together in society and keeping the planets wheeling
in their orbits.
Often during recent trials the cause of our country
has assumed three different forms, each essential in itself
and yet together constituting a unit, like the shamrock,
or white clover, with triple leaf, originally used
to illustrate the Trinity. It was Three in One. These
three different forms were: first, the national forces;
secondly, the national finances; and, thirdly, the ideas
entering into the controversy. The national forces and
the national finances have prevailed. The ideas are
still in question, and even now you debate with regard
to the great rights of citizenship. Nobody doubts that
the army and navy fall plainly within the jurisdiction
of the National Government, and that the finances fall
plainly within this jurisdiction; but the rights of citizenship
are as thoroughly national as army and navy or
finances. You cannot without peril cease to regulate
the army and navy, nor without peril cease to regulate
the finances; but there is equal peril in abandoning
the rights of citizens, who, wherever they may be, in
whatever State, are entitled to protection from the
Nation. An American citizen in a foreign land enjoys
the protecting hand of the National Government.
That protecting hand should be his not less at home
than abroad.
Fellow-citizens, allow me to gather the whole case
into brief compass. The President, wielding the One
Man Power, has assumed a prerogative over Congress
utterly unjustifiable, while he has dictated a fatal “policy”
of Reconstruction, which gives sway to Rebels, puts
off the blessed day of security and reconciliation, and
leaves the best interests of the Republic in jeopardy.
Treacherous to party, false to the great cause, and unworthy
of himself, he has set his individual will against
the people of the United States in Congress assembled.
Forgetful of truth and decency, he has assailed members
as “assassins,” and has denounced Congress itself
as a revolutionary body, “called or assuming to be the
Congress of the United States,” and “hanging upon the
verge of the Government,”[73]—as if this most enlightened
and patriot Congress did not contain the embodied
will of the American people. To you, each and all, I
appeal to arrest this madness. Your votes will be the
first step. The President must be taught that usurpation
and apostasy cannot prevail. He who promised
to be Moses, and has become Pharaoh, must be overthrown.
And may the Egyptians that follow him share
the same fate, so that it shall be said now as aforetime,
“And the Lord overthrew the Egyptians in the
midst of the sea!”