MORAL.

At the conclusion of a fable there is a moral, or, as sometimes

called, the application. There is a moral now, or, if you please, the

application. And, believe me, in these serious days, I should have

little heart for literary diversion, if I did not hope to make it help

those just principles which are essential to the well-being, if not the

safety, of the Republic. To this end I have written. This article is

only a long whip with a snapper.

Two verses rescued from the wreck of a once popular poem have become

proverbs, and one of these is very famous. They inculcate clemency,

and the common sense found in not running upon one danger to avoid

another. Never was the lesson more needed than now, when, in the

name of clemency to belligerent traitors, the National Government is

preparing to abandon the freedman, to whom it is bound by the most

sacred ties,--is preparing to abandon the national creditor also, with

whose security the national welfare is indissolubly associated,--and

is even preparing, without probation or trial, to invest belligerent

traitors, who for four bloody years have murdered our fellow-citizens,

with those Equal Rights in the Republic which are denied to friends and

allies, so that the former shall rule over the latter. Verily, here is

a case for common sense.

The lesson of clemency is of perpetual obligation. Thanks to the

mediæval poet for teaching it! Harshness is bad. Cruelty is detestable.

Even justice may relent at the prompting of mercy. Fail not, then,

to cultivate the grace of clemency. Perhaps no scene in history is

more charming than that of Cæsar, who, after vows against an enemy,

listened calmly to the appeal for pardon, and, listening, let the

guilty papers fall from his hand. Early in life he had pleaded in the

Senate for the lives of conspirators; and afterwards, when supreme

ruler of the Roman world, practised the clemency he had once defended,

except where enemies were incorrigible, and then he knew how to be

rigorous and firm. By example we are instructed; and from the great

master of clemency we may well learn that the general welfare must not

be sacrificed to this indulgence. And also from the Divine Teacher

we may learn, that, even while forgiving enemies, there are Scribes

and Pharisees to be exposed, and money-changers who must be scourged

from the temple. But with us are Scribes and Pharisees, and there are

also criminals, worse than any money-changers, now trying to establish

themselves in the very temple of our Government.

Cultivate clemency. But consider well what is embraced in this charity.

It is not required that you surrender the Republic into the hands of

pardoned criminals. It is not required that you surrender friends

and allies to the tender mercies of these same pardoned criminals.

Clearly not. Clemency has limitations; and when it transcends these,

it ceases to be a virtue, and is only a mischievous indulgence. Of

course, one of these limitations, never to be disregarded, is _the

general security_, which is the first duty of Government. No pardon

can be allowed to imperil the nation; nor can any pardon be allowed to

imperil those rightfully looking to us for protection. There must be no

vengeance upon enemies; but there must be no sacrifice of friends. And

here is the distinction never to be forgotten. _Nothing for vengeance;

everything for justice._ Follow this rule, and the Republic will be

safe and glorious. Words attributed to Marcus Aurelius in a letter to

his colleague in empire, Lucius Verus, are worthy to be repeated now by

the chief of the Republic:--

“Ever since the Fates

Placed me upon the throne, two aims have I

Kept fixed before my eyes; and they are these,--

Not to revenge me on my enemies,

_And not to be ungrateful to my friends_.”[364]

It is easy for the individual to forgive. It is easy, also, for the

Republic to be generous. But forgiveness of offences must not be a

letter of license to crime; it must not be recognition of an ancient

tyranny, and it must not be stupendous ingratitude. There is a familiar

saying, with the salt of ages, that is addressed to us now: “Be just

before you are generous.” Be just to all before you are generous to

the few. Be just to the millions _only half rescued_ from oppression,

before you are generous to their cruel taskmasters. Do not imitate

that precious character in the gallery of old Tallemant des Réaux,

“who built churches without paying his debts.” Our foremost duties now

are to pay our debts, and these are twofold,--first, to the national

freedman, and, secondly, to the national creditor.

Apply these obvious principles practically. A child can do it. No

duty of clemency can justify injustice. Therefore, in exercising the

beautiful power of pardon at this moment, several conditions must be

observed.

1. As a general rule, belligerent traitors, who have battled against

the country, must not be permitted _at once_, without probation or

trial, to resume old places of trust and power. Such a concession would

be clearly against every suggestion of common sense, and President

Johnson doubtless saw it so, when, addressing his fellow-citizens of

Tennessee, June 9, 1864, he said: “I say that traitors should take a

back seat in the work of restoration. If there be but five thousand

men in Tennessee loyal to the Constitution, loyal to freedom, loyal

to justice, these true and faithful men should control the work of

reorganization and reformation absolutely.”[365] Let belligerent

traitors be received slowly and cautiously back into the sovereignty of

citizenship. Better that they should wait than the general security be

imperilled, or our solemn obligations, whether to the national freedman

or the national creditor, impaired.

2. Especially are we bound, by every obligation of justice and by every

sentiment of honor, to see that belligerent traitors, who have battled

against their country, are not allowed to rule the constant loyalists,

whether white or black, embracing the recent freedmen, our friends and

allies.

3. Let pardons issue only on satisfactory assurance that the applicant,

who has been engaged for four years in murdering our fellow-citizens,

shall sustain the Equal Rights, civil and political, of all men,

according to the principles of the Declaration of Independence; that he

shall pledge himself to the support of the national debt; and, if he be

among the large holders of land, that he shall set apart homesteads for

all his freedmen.

Following these simple rules, clemency will be a Christian virtue, and

not a perilous folly.

* * * * *

The other proverb has its voice also, saying plainly, Follow common

sense, and do not, while escaping one danger, rush upon another. You

are now escaping from the whirlpool of war, which threatened to absorb

and ingulf the Republic. Rush not upon the opposite terror, where

another shipwreck of a different kind awaits you, while Sirens tempt

with “song of death.” Take warning: _Seeking to escape Charybdis, do

not drive upon Scylla_.

Alas! the Scylla on which the Republic now drives is that old rock

of _concession and compromise_ which from the beginning has been a

constant peril. It appeared in the Convention that framed the National

Constitution, and ever afterwards, from year to year, showed itself

in Congress, until at last the Oligarchy, nursed by our indulgence,

rebelled. And now that the war is over, it is proposed to invest the

same Rebel Oligarchy with a new lease of immense power, involving

control over loyal citizens, whose fidelity to the Republic has been

beyond question. Here, too, are Sirens, in the shape of belligerent

traitors, suing softly that the Republic may be lured to the old

concession and compromise. _Alas, that, escaping Charybdis, we drive

upon Scylla!_

The Oligarchy conducted all its operations in the name of State Rights,

and in this name it rebelled. And when the Republic sought to suppress

the Rebellion, it was replied, that a State could not be coerced.

Now that the Rebellion is overthrown, and a just effort is made to

obtain that “security for the future” without which the war will have

been in vain, the same cry of State Rights is raised, and we are told

again that a State cannot be coerced,--as if the same mighty power

which directed armies upon the Rebellion could be impotent to exact

all needful safeguards. To overcome these pretensions, and stamp _E

Pluribus Unum_ ineffaceably upon the Republic, we contended in war; and

now we surrender again to these tyrannical pretensions. Escaping from

war, we drive upon the opposite peril,--_as from Charybdis to Scylla_.

Again, we are told gravely, that the national power which decreed

Emancipation cannot maintain it by assuring universal enfranchisement,

because an imperial government must be discountenanced,--as if the

whole suggestion of “imperialism” or “centralism” were not out of place

until the national security is established, and our debts, whether to

the national freedman or the national creditor, are placed where they

cannot be repudiated. A phantom is created, and, to avoid this phantom,

we drive towards concession and compromise,--_as from Charybdis to

Scylla_.

Again, we are reminded that military power must yield to the civil

power and to the rights of self-government. Therefore the Rebel

States must be left to themselves, each with full control over all,

whether white or black, within its borders, and empowered to keep

alive a Black Code abhorrent to civilization and dangerous to liberty.

Here, again, we drive from one peril upon another. Every exercise of

military power is to be regretted, and yet there are occasions when

it cannot be avoided. War itself is the transcendent example of this

power. But transition from war to peace must be assured by all possible

safeguards. Civil power and self-government cannot be conceded to

belligerent enemies until after the establishment of “security for the

future.” Such security is an indispensable safeguard, without which

there will be new disaster. Therefore, in escaping from military power,

care must be taken not to run upon the opposite danger,--_as from

Charybdis to Scylla_.

Again, it is said solemnly, that “we must trust each other”; which,

being interpreted, means that the Republic must proceed at once

to trust belligerent enemies who have for long years murdered our

fellow-citizens. Of course, this is only another form of surrender. In

trusting them, we concede political power, including license to oppress

loyal persons, whether white or black, and especially the freedmen. For

four years we have met them in battle; and now we run to trust them,

and commit into their keeping the happiness and well-being of others.

There is peril in trusting such an enemy, more even than in meeting him

on the field. God forbid that we drive now upon this rock,--_as from

Charybdis to Scylla_!

The true way is easy. Follow common sense. Seeking to avoid one peril,

steer clear of another. Consider how everything of worth or honor is

bound up with the national security and the national faith,--and

that, until these are fixed beyond change, agriculture, commerce, and

industry of all kinds must suffer. Capital cannot stay where justice is

denied. Emigration must avoid a land blasted by the spirit of caste.

Cotton itself will refuse to grow until labor is assured its just

reward. By natural consequence, the same Barbarism which has drenched

the land in blood will continue to prevail, with wrong, outrage, and

the insurrections of an oppressed race; the national name will be

dishonored, and the national power weakened. But the way is plain to

avoid these calamities. _Follow common sense; and obtain guaranties

commensurate with the danger._ Do this without delay, so that security

and reconciliation may not be postponed. Every day’s delay is a loss

to the national wealth and an injury to the national treasury. But

if adequate guaranties cannot be obtained at once, then at least

_postpone all present surrender to the Oligarchy_, trusting meanwhile

to Providence for protection, and to time for that awakened sense of

justice and humanity which must in the end prevail. And, finally, _be

careful not to drive, under any pretence, from Charybdis to Scylla_.