RAYMOND CHAMPIONS THE PRESIDENT
1866
When Congress convened in December, 1865, President Johnson, in a calm
and carefully prepared message, advocated the admission of Southern
congressmen whenever their States ratified the Thirteenth Amendment.
He also recommended that negro suffrage be left to the States. On the
other hand, extreme Radicals, relying upon the report of Carl Schurz,
whom the President had sent South on a tour of observation, demanded
suffrage and civil rights for the negro, and that congressional
representation be based upon actual voters instead of population.
Schurz had remained three months in South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama,
Mississippi, and Louisiana, and to him "treason, under existing
circumstances, does not appear odious in the South. The people are not
impressed with any sense of its criminality. And there is yet among
the Southern people an utter absence of national feeling.... While
accepting the abolition of slavery, they think that some species of
serfdom, peonage, or other form of compulsory labour is not slavery,
and may be introduced without a violation of their pledge." Schurz,
therefore, recommended negro suffrage as "a condition precedent to
readmission."[1045]
[Footnote 1045: Senate Ex. Doc. No. 2, 39th Cong., 1st Session.]
On the contrary, General Grant, who had spent a couple of weeks in the
South upon the invitation of the President, reported that the mass of
thinking men accepted conditions in good faith; that they regarded
slavery and the right to secede as settled forever, and were anxious
to return to self-government within the Union as soon as possible;
that "while reconstructing they want and require protection from the
government. They are in earnest in wishing to do what is required by
the government, not humiliating to them as citizens, and if such a
course was pointed out they would pursue it in good faith."[1046]
[Footnote 1046: McPherson, _History of Reconstruction_, pp. 67-68.]
The North had been too happy over the close of the war and the return
of its soldiers to anticipate the next step, but when Thaddeus Stevens
of Pennsylvania, the leader of the Radicals, opened the discussion in
Congress on December 10 (1865), the people quickly saw the drift of
things. Stevens contended that hostilities had severed the original
contract between the Southern States and the Union, and that the
former, in order to return to the Union, must come in as new States
upon terms made by Congress and approved by the President. In like
manner he argued that negroes, if denied suffrage, should be excluded
from the basis of representation, thus giving the South 46
representatives instead of 83. "But why should slaves be excluded?"
demanded Stevens. "This doctrine of a white man's government is as
atrocious as the infamous sentiment that damned the late Chief Justice
to everlasting fame, and, I fear, to everlasting fire."[1047]
[Footnote 1047: _Congressional Globe_, Vol. 37, Part 1, pp. 73-74.]
Stevens' speech, putting Johnson's policy squarely in issue, was
answered by Henry J. Raymond, now the selected and acknowledged leader
of the Administration in the House. Raymond had entered Congress with
a prestige rarely if ever equalled by a new member. There had been
greater orators, abler debaters, and more profound statesmen, but no
one had ever preceded him with an environment more influential. He was
the favourite of the President; he had been brought into more or less
intimate association with all the men of his party worth knowing; he
was the close friend of Weed and the recognized ally of Seward; his
good will could make postmasters and collectors, and his displeasure,
like that of a frigid and bloodless leader, could carry swift penalty.
Indeed, there was nothing in the armory of the best equipped
politician, including able speaking and forceful writing, that he did
not possess, and out of New York as well as within it he had been
regarded the earnest friend and faithful champion of Republican
doctrines. On the surface, too, it is doubtful if a member of
Congress, whether new or old, ever seemed to have a better chance of
winning in a debate. Only three months before the people of the North,
with great unanimity, had endorsed the President and approved his
policy. Besides, the great body of Republicans in Congress preferred
to work with the President. He held the patronage, he had succeeded by
the assassin's work to the leadership of the party, and thus far had
evinced no more dogmatism than Stevens or Sumner. Moreover, the
sentiment of the North at that time was clearly against negro
suffrage. All the States save six[1048] denied the vote to the negro,
and in the recent elections three States had specifically declared
against extending it to him.
[Footnote 1048: New York and the New England States except Connecticut,
although New York required a property qualification, but none for the
white.]
Thus fortified Raymond did not object to speaking for the
Administration. To him Stevens' idea of subjecting the South to the
discipline and tutelage of Congress was repulsive, and his ringing
voice filled the spacious hall of the House with clear-cut sentences.
He denied that the Southern States had ever been out of the Union. "If
they were," he asked, "how and when did they become so? By what
specific act, at what precise time, did any one of those States take
itself out of the American Union? Was it by the ordinance of
secession? An ordinance of secession is simply a nullity, because it
encounters the Constitution which is the supreme law of the land. Did
the resolutions of those States, the declaration of their officials,
the speeches of the members of their Legislatures, or the utterances
of their press, accomplish the result desired? Certainly not. All
these were declarations of a purpose to secede. Their secession, if it
ever took place, certainly could not date from the time when their
intention to secede was first announced. They proceeded to sustain
their purpose of secession by arms against the force which the United
States brought to bear against them. Were their arms victorious? If
they were, then their secession was an accomplished fact. If not, it
was nothing more than an abortive attempt--a purpose unfulfilled. They
failed to maintain their ground by force of arms. In other words, they
failed to secede. But if," he concluded, "the Southern States did go
out of the Union, it would make those in the South who resisted the
Confederacy guilty of treason to an independent government. Do you
want to make traitors out of loyal men?"[1049]
[Footnote 1049: _Congressional Globe_, Vol. 37, Part 1, pp. 120-123.]
Raymond received close attention. Several leaders acknowledged their
interest by asking questions, and the congratulations that followed
evidenced the good will of his colleagues. His speech had shown none
of the usual characteristics of a maiden effort. Without advertising
his intention to speak, he obtained the floor late in the afternoon,
referred with spirit to the sentiments of the preceding speaker, and
moved along with the air of an old member, careless of making a
rhetorical impression but intensely in earnest in what he had to
present. As an argument in favor of the adoption of a liberal policy
toward the South, regardless of its strict legal rights, the speech
commended itself to his colleagues as an admirable one, but it
entirely failed to meet Stevens' logic that the States lately in
rebellion could not set up any rights against the conqueror except
such as were granted by the laws of war. In his reply the
Pennsylvanian taunted Raymond with failing to quote a single authority
in support of his contention. "I admit the gravity of the gentleman's
opinion," he said, "and with the slightest corroborating authority
should yield the case. But without some such aid I am not willing that
the sages of the law--Grotius, Vattel, and a long line of
compeers--should be overthrown and demolished by the single arm of the
gentleman from New York. I pray the gentleman to quote authority; not
to put too heavy a load upon his own judgment; he might sink under the
weight. Give us your author."[1050]
[Footnote 1050: _Congressional Globe_, Vol. 37, Part 2, pp. 1307-1308.]
As the debate continued it became evident the President's friends were
losing ground. Aside from the withering blows of Stevens, unseen
occurrences which Raymond, in his eagerness to champion Johnson's
policy, did not appreciate or willingly ignored, had a most disturbing
influence. The Northern people welcomed peace and approved the
generosity of the government, but they wanted the South to exhibit its
appreciation by corresponding generosity to the government's friends.
Its acts did not show this. Enactments in respect to freedmen, passed
by the President's reconstructed legislatures, grudgingly bestowed
civil rights. A different punishment for the same offence was
prescribed for the negroes; apprentice, vagrant, and contract labour
laws tended to a system of peonage; and the prohibition of public
assemblies, the restriction of freedom of movement, and the
deprivation of means of defence illustrated the inequality of their
rights. Such laws, for whatever purpose passed, had a powerful effect
on Northern sentiment already influenced by reported cruelties, while
the Southern people's aversion to Union soldiers settling in their
midst intensified the feeling. Moreover, Southern and Democratic
support of the President made Republicans distrust his policy. If
States can be reconstructed in a summer and congressmen admitted in a
winter, it was said, the South, helped by the Democracy of the North,
might again be in control of the Government within two years. These
considerations were bound to affect the judgment of Republicans, and
when Stevens began to talk and the real conditions in the South came
to be known, it aroused party indignation to a high pitch in the
House.
Raymond, in his brilliant rejoinders, endeavoured to recover lost
ground. He had created no enemies. On the contrary his courtesy and
tact smoothed the way and made him friends. But after weeks of
discussion an effort to adopt a resolution of confidence in the
President met with overwhelming defeat. Stevens asked that the
resolution be referred to the Committee on Reconstruction--Raymond
demanded its adoption at once. On a roll-call the vote stood 32 to 107
in favour of reference, Raymond and William A. Darling of New York
City being the only Republicans to vote against it. It was a heavy
blow to the leader of the Conservatives. It proved the unpopularity of
Johnson's policy and indicated increasing estrangement between the
President and his party. Moreover, it was personally humiliating. On a
test question, with the whole power of the Administration behind him,
Raymond had been able, after weeks of work, to secure the support of
only one man and that a colleague bound to him by the ties of personal
friendship.
The division in the party spread with the rapidity of a rising thunder
cloud. On February 6 Congress passed the Freedman's Bureau Bill,
designed to aid helpless negroes, which the President vetoed. A month
later his treatment of the Civil Rights Bill, which set in motion the
necessary machinery to enforce the Thirteenth Amendment, shattered the
confidence of the party. "Surely," declared Senator Trumbull of
Illinois, "we have authority to enact a law as efficient in the
interest of freedom as we had in the interest of slavery."[1051] But
the President promptly vetoed it, because, he said, it conferred
citizenship on the negro, invaded the rights of the States, had no
warrant in the Constitution, and was contrary to all precedent.
[Footnote 1051: _Congressional Globe_, p. 474.]
The President had developed several undesirable characteristics, being
essentially obstinate and conceited, the possessor of a bad temper,
and of a coarse and vulgar personality. His speech on February 22, in
which he had invoked the wild passions of a mob, modified the opinions
even of conservative men. "It is impossible to conceive of a more
humiliating spectacle," said Sherman.[1052] "During the progress of
events," wrote Weed, "the President was bereft of judgment and reason,
and became the victim of passion and unreason."[1053] But up to this
time the party had hoped to avoid a complete break with the Executive.
Now, however, the question of passing the Civil Rights Bill over his
veto presented itself. Not since the beginning of the government had
Congress carried an important measure over a veto. Besides, it meant a
complete and final separation between the President and his party.
Edwin D. Morgan so understood it, and although he had heretofore
sustained the President, he now stood with the Radicals. Raymond also
knew the gravity of the situation. But Raymond, who often wavered and
sometimes exhibited an astonishing fickleness,[1054] saw only one side
to the question, and on April 9 when the House, by a vote of 122 to
41, overrode the veto, he was one of only seven Unionists to support
the President.[1055]
[Footnote 1052: _Congressional Globe_, Appendix, p. 124.]
[Footnote 1053: T.W. Barnes, _Life of Thurlow Weed_, Vol. 1, p. 630.]
[Footnote 1054: Augustus Maverick, _Life of Henry J. Raymond_, p. 225.
Apropos of Raymond's fickleness Stevens remarked, when the former
appealed to his friends on the floor to furnish him a pair, that he
saw no reason for it, since he had observed that the gentleman from
New York found no difficulty in pairing with himself.--William M.
Stewart, _Reminiscences_, pp. 205-206.
At another time when an excited member declared that Stevens commands
us to "go it blind," Hale of New York, with an innocent expression,
asked the meaning of the phrase. Instantly Stevens retorted: "It means
following Raymond." The hit was doubly happy since Hale had followed
Raymond in his support of Johnson.--Boutwell, _Reminiscences_, Vol. 2,
p. 11.]
[Footnote 1055: Edward McPherson, _History of the Reconstruction_, p.
81.]
After the passage of the Civil Rights Bill the President's friends
proposed to invoke, through a National Union convention to be held at
Philadelphia on August 14, the support of conservative Republicans
and Democrats. Weed told Raymond of the project and Seward urged it
upon him. Raymond expressed a disinclination to go to the convention
because it seemed likely to fall into the hands of former Confederates
and their Northern associates, and to be used for purposes hostile to
the Union party, of which, he said, he was not only a member, but the
chairman of its national committee. Seward did not concur in this
view. He said it was not a party convention and need not affect the
party standing of those who attended it. He was a Union man, he
declared, and he did not admit the right of anybody to turn him out of
the Union party. Moreover, he wanted Raymond to attend the convention
to prevent its control by the enemies of the Union party.
Raymond, still undecided, called with Seward upon the President, who
favoured neither a new party nor the restoration to power of the
Democratic party, although the movement, he said, ought not to repel
Democrats willing to act with it. He wanted the matter settled within
the Union party, and thought the proposed convention, in which
delegates from all the States could again meet in harmony, would exert
a wholesome influence on local conventions and nominations to
Congress.[1056] Raymond, however, was still apprehensive. He deemed the
Thirteenth and Fourteenth Amendments "reasonable, wise, and popular;"
thought the President had "made a great mistake in taking grounds
against them;" and declared that notwithstanding the peppery method of
their passage "the people will not be stopped by trifles." The outcome
of the convention also worried him. "If it should happen to lay down a
platform," he continued, "which shall command the respect of the
country, it would be such a miracle as we have no right to expect in
these days. However," he concluded, "I shall be governed in my course
toward it by developments. I do not see the necessity of denouncing
it from the start, nor until more is known of its composition,
purposes, and actions."[1057]
[Footnote 1056: The above statement is based upon the diary of Raymond,
published by his son.]
[Footnote 1057: Letter of July 17.--Augustus Maverick, _Life of
Raymond_, pp. 173-174.]
Raymond did not attend the preliminary State convention held at
Saratoga on August 9. He left this work to Weed, who, with the help of
Dean Richmond, made an excellent showing in numbers and enthusiasm.
The support of the Democrats was assured because they would benefit,
and the presence of Tilden, Kernan, William H. Ludlow, and Sanford E.
Church created no surprise; but the interest manifested by John A.
Dix, Hamilton Fish, Moses Taylor, Marshall O. Roberts, Francis B.
Cutting, and Richard M. Blatchford amazed the Republicans. Henry J.
Raymond was made a delegate-at-large, with Samuel J. Tilden, John A.
Dix, and Sanford E. Church.
At Philadelphia the convention derived a manifest advantage from
having all the States, South as well as North, fully represented,
making it the first real "National" convention to assemble, it was
said, since 1860. Besides, it was a picturesque convention, full of
striking contrasts and unique spectacles. In the hotel lobbies Weed
and Richmond, walking together, seemed ubiquitous as they dominated
the management and arranged the details. Raymond and Church sat side
by side in the committee on resolutions, while the delegates from
Massachusetts and South Carolina, for spectacular effect, entered the
great wigwam arm in arm. This picture of apparent reconciliation
evoked the most enthusiastic cheers, and became the boast of the
Johnsonians until the wits likened the wigwam to Noah's Ark, into
which there went, "two and two, of clean beasts, and of beasts that
are not clean, and of fowls, and of everything that creepeth upon the
earth."
John A. Dix became temporary chairman, and the resolutions, reciting
the issue between the President and the Republicans, laid great
emphasis upon the right of every State, without condition, to
representation in Congress as soon as the war had ended. But Raymond,
presumably to please Southern delegates,[1058] pressed the argument far
beyond the scope of the resolutions, maintaining that even if the
condition of the Southern States rendered their admission unsafe
because still disloyal in sentiment and purpose, Congress had no power
to deny them rights conferred by the Constitution. This reckless claim
amazed his friends as much as it aroused his enemies, and he at once
became the object of most cutting reproaches. "Had he been elected as
a Copperhead," said the _Tribune_, "no one could have complained that
he acted as a Copperhead, and had Judas been one of the Pharisees
instead of one of the Disciples, he would not be the worst example
that Presidents and Congressmen can follow."[1059] Ten days later the
Republican National committee removed him from the chairmanship, a
punishment promptly followed by his removal from the committee.[1060]
Raymond, in his talk with Seward, had anticipated trouble of this
character, but the humiliation was now doubly deep because it
separated him from friends whose staunch support had contributed to
his strength. Moreover, in a few weeks he was compelled to abandon the
President for reasons that had long existed. "We have tried hard," he
wrote, "to hold our original faith in his personal honesty, and to
attribute his disastrous action to errors of judgment and infirmities
of temper. The struggle has often been difficult, and we can maintain
it no longer."[1061] But the change came too late. He had followed too
far. It added to the sadness, also, because his popularity was never
to return to any considerable extent during the remaining three years
of his brilliant life.
[Footnote 1058: New York _Tribune_, August 22, 1866.]
[Footnote 1059: _Ibid._, September 28.]
[Footnote 1060: _Ibid._, September 4 and 6.]
[Footnote 1061: Augustus Maverick, _Life of Raymond_, p. 174.]
Raymond's congressional experience, confined to a single term, added
nothing to his fame. He delivered clever speeches, his wide
intelligence and courteous manner won him popularity, and to some
extent he probably influenced public opinion; but his brief career
left no opportunity to live down his fatal alliance with Johnson.
Indeed, it may well be doubted if longer service or more favourable
conditions would have given him high standing as a legislator.
Prominence gained in one vocation is rarely transferred to another.
Legislation is a profession as much as medicine or law or journalism,
the practice of which, to gain leadership, must be long and
continuous, until proposed public measures and their treatment worked
out in the drudgery of the committee room, become as familiar as the
variety of questions submitted to lawyers and physicians. The
prolonged and exacting labour as a journalist which had given Raymond
his great reputation, must, in a measure, have been repeated as a
legislator to give him similar leadership in Congress. At forty-five
he was not too old to accomplish it. Samuel Shellabarger of Ohio, who
made his greatest speech in reply to Raymond, began his congressional
life at forty-nine, and Thaddeus Stevens, the leader of the House, at
fifty-seven. But the mental weariness, already apparent in Raymond's
face, indicated that the enthusiasm necessary for such preparation had
departed. Besides, he lacked the most important qualification for a
legislative leader--the rare political sagacity to know the thoughts
of people and to catch the tiniest shadow of a coming event.
Seward shared Raymond's unpopularity. Soon after assuming office
President Johnson outlined a severe policy toward the South, violently
denouncing traitors, who, he declared, must be punished and
impoverished. "The time has arrived," he said, "when the American
people should be educated that treason is the highest crime and those
engaged in it should suffer all its penalties."[1062] These sentiments,
reiterated again and again, extorted from Benjamin F. Wade, the chief
of Radicals, an entreaty that he would limit the number to be hung to
a good round dozen and no more.[1063] Suddenly the President changed
his tone to one of amnesty and reconciliation, and in answering the
question, "who has influenced him?" Sumner declared that "Seward is
the marplot. He openly confesses that he counselled the present fatal
policy."[1064] Blaine also expressed the belief that the Secretary of
State changed the President's policy,[1065] a suggestion that Seward
himself corroborated in an after-dinner speech at New York in
September, 1866. "When Mr. Johnson came into the Presidency," said the
Secretary, "he did nothing until I got well, and then he sent for me
and we fixed things."[1066]
[Footnote 1062: McPherson's _Reconstruction_, p. 45.]
[Footnote 1063: Blaine's _Twenty Tears of Congress_, Vol. 2, p. 14.]
[Footnote 1064: Edward L. Pierce, _Life of Sumner_, Vol. 4, p. 376;
Sumner's _Works_, Vol. 11, p. 19.]
[Footnote 1065: James G. Blaine, _Twenty Years of Congress_, Vol. 2, p.
63.]
[Footnote 1066: New York _Tribune_, September 4, 1866.]
But Seward did more to exasperate Republicans than change a harsh
policy to one of reconciliation. He believed in the soundness of the
President's constitutional views and the correctness of his vetoes,
deeming the course of Congress unwise.[1067] It is difficult,
therefore, to credit Blaine's unsupported statement that Seward
"worked most earnestly to bring about an accommodation between the
Administration and Congress."[1068] The split grew out of the
President's veto messages which Seward approved and probably wrote.
[Footnote 1067: Thornton K. Lothrop, _Life of Seward_, p. 424.]
[Footnote 1068: James G. Blaine, _Twenty Years of Congress_, Vol. 2, p.
115.]
Until the spring of 1866 Seward's old friends believed he had remained
in the Cabinet to dispose of diplomatic questions which the war left
unsettled, but after his speech at Auburn on May 22 the men who once
regarded him as a champion of liberty and equality dropped him from
their list of saints. He argued that the country wanted reconciliation
instead of reconstruction, and denied that the President was
unfaithful to the party and its cardinal principles of public policy,
since his disagreements with Congress on the Freedman's Bureau and
Civil Rights Bills "have no real bearing upon the question of
reconciliation." Nor was there any "soundness in our political
system, if the personal or civil rights of white or black, free born
or emancipated, are not more secure under the administration of a
State government than they could be under the administration of the
National government."[1069] This sentiment brought severe criticism.
"Mr. Seward once earned honour by remembering the negro at a time when
others forgot him," said the _Independent_; "he now earns dishonour by
forgetting the negro when the nation demands that the negro should be
remembered."[1070]
[Footnote 1069: This speech does not appear in his _Works_, but was
published at the time of its delivery in pamphlet form.]
[Footnote 1070: New York _Independent_, May 31, 1866.]
Seward's participation in the President's tour of the country
contributed to destroy his popularity. This Quixotic junketing journey
quickly passed into history as the "swinging-around-the-circle" trip,
which Lowell described as an "advertising tour of a policy in want of
a party."[1071] Seward had many misgivings. The memory of the
President's condition on inauguration day and of his unfortunate
speech on February 22 did not augur well for its success. "But it is a
duty to the President and to the country," he wrote, "and I shall go
on with right good heart."[1072] In the East the party got on very
well, but at Cleveland and other Western cities the President acted
like a man both mad and drunk, while people railed at him as if he
were the clown of a circus. "He sunk the Presidential office to the
level of a grog-house," wrote John Sherman.[1073]
[Footnote 1071: James Russell Lowell, _Political Essays_, p. 296.]
[Footnote 1072: F.W. Seward, _Life of W.H. Seward_, Vol. 3, p. 339.]
[Footnote 1073: Sherman's Letters, p. 278.]
Seward's position throughout was pathetic. His apologies and
commonplace appeals for his Chief contrasted strangely with the
courageous, powerful, and steady fight against the domination of
slavery which characterised his former visits to Cleveland, and the
men who had accepted him as their ardent champion deprecated both his
acts and his words. It called to mind Fillmore's desertion of his
anti-slavery professions, and Van Buren's revengeful action in 1848.
"Distrusted by his old friends," said the _Nation_, "he will never be
taken to the bosom of his old enemies. His trouble is not that the
party to which he once belonged is without a leader, but that he
wanders about like a ghost--a leader without a party."[1074]
[Footnote 1074: New York _Nation_, Vol. 3, p. 234.]