Something also must be attributed to individual character. And here I
express no opinion of my own; I shall allow another to speak in solemn
words echoed from the tomb.
On reaching Washington at the opening of Congress in December, 1869,
I was pained to hear that Mr. Stanton, lately Secretary of War, was
in failing health. Full of gratitude for his unsurpassed services,
and with a sentiment of friendship quickened by common political
sympathies, I lost no time in seeing him, and repeated my visits until
his death, toward the close of the same month. My last visit was marked
by a communication never to be forgotten. As I entered his bedroom,
where I found him reclining on a sofa, propped by pillows, he reached
out his hand, already clammy cold, and in reply to my inquiry, “How
are you?” answered, “Waiting for my furlough.” Then at once, with
singular solemnity, he said, “I have something to say to you.” When
I was seated, he proceeded without one word of introduction: “I know
General Grant better than any other person in the country can know him.
It was my duty to study him, and I did so night and day, when I saw him
and when I did not see him; and now I tell you what I know: _he cannot
govern this country_.” The intensity of his manner and the positiveness
of his judgment surprised me; for, though I was aware that the late
Secretary of War did not place the President very high in general
capacity, I was not prepared for a judgment so strongly couched. At
last, after some delay, occupied in meditating his remarkable words,
I observed, “What you say is very broad.” “It is as true as it is
broad,” he replied promptly. I added, “You are tardy; you tell this
late: why did you not say it before his nomination?” He answered, that
he was not consulted about the nomination, and had no opportunity of
expressing his opinion upon it, besides being much occupied at the time
by his duties as Secretary of War and his contest with the President.
I followed by saying, “But you took part in the Presidential election,
and made a succession of speeches for him in Ohio and Pennsylvania.”
“I spoke,” said he, “but I never introduced the name of General Grant.
I spoke for the Republican Party and the Republican cause.” This was
the last time I saw Mr. Stanton. A few days later I followed him to the
grave where he now rests. As the vagaries of the President became more
manifest, and the Presidential office seemed more and more a plaything
and perquisite, this dying judgment of the great citizen who knew him
so well haunted me constantly, day and night; and I now communicate
it to my country, feeling that it is a legacy which I have no right
to withhold. Beyond the intrinsic interest from its author, it is not
without value as testimony in considering how the President could have
been led into that Quixotism of personal pretension which it is my duty
to expose.[58]