PRESIDENT JOHNSON SURRENDERS.
President Johnson was by nature and temperament squarely disposed
toward justice and the right, but he could not resist the concerted
appeals made to him by the dominant whites at the South. Early in
May, rules were issued governing trade with the States lately in
rebellion, but in June these restrictions were removed, and there
rapidly followed executive orders restoring Virginia to her federal
relations, establishing provisional governments in the Southern
States, and granting a general amnesty to all persons engaged in
the Rebellion, except certain classes, who could receive pardon by
special application. These acts speedily alienated the President
from the party whose votes elected him, but he was always "sure he
was right, even in his errors."
Andrew Johnson's daily life as President was a very simple one.
He arose promptly at six o'clock in the morning, read the newspapers,
and breakfasted with his family at eight. Going into the executive
office at nine, he remained there until four in the afternoon,
devoting himself to conferences with Cabinet officers, his official
correspondence, and the reception of visitors when he had leisure.
At four o'clock he went into his family sitting-room, dined at
five, and after dinner took a walk or a carriage-drive. From nine
until eleven he received visitors, and then retired for the night.
He had a few favorites who went into his room without being
announced.
Prominent among them was Mr. S. P. Hanscom, of Massachusetts, who
had been in early life a prominent Abolitionist and temperance
lecturer. During the Johnson Administration Mr. Hanscom edited
the Washington _Republican_, and obtained office for applicants
for a pecuniary consideration. When Mr. Buffington refused to pay
the stipulated fee for his appointment, Mr. Hanscom published a
handbill, in which he unblushingly related the circumstances and
denounced the ex-Congressman for breach of faith. Mr. Hanscom
spent the large income which he received for office brokerage very
freely. He was kind to the poor and a generous friend, but he
died a few years afterward in reduced circumstances.
Jefferson Davis, the leader of the conquered Confederacy, had been
brought from Georgia, where he was captured, and imprisoned at
Fortress Monroe. He occupied the inner apartment of a casemate,
with a guard in the outer apartment and sentries posted on the
outside at the porthole and at the door. He became naturally
somewhat irascible, and orders having been sent to put him in irons
if he gave any provocation, he one day gave it by throwing a tin
plate of food which he did not fancy into the face of the soldier
who had served him.
Captain Titlow, who was especially charged with the custody of Mr.
Davis, and who is the authority for this statement, was accordingly
ordered by the Commandant of the fort to place his prisoner in
irons. Summoning a blacksmith who was in the habit of riveting
irons on soldiers sentenced by court-martial to wear them, the
Captain went to the casemate, accompanied by the blacksmith carrying
the fetters and his tools. They found Mr. Davis seated on his cot,
there being no other furniture besides but a stool and a few articles
of tinware. When he glanced at the blacksmith and comprehended
the situation, he exclaimed: "My God! this indignity to be put on
me! Not while I have life." At first he pleaded for opportunity
to inquire of Secretary Stanton. Then his excitement rose to fury
as he walked the cell, venting himself in almost incoherent ravings.
The Captain at length calmly reminded him that as a soldier he must
be aware that however disagreeable the duty assigned, it must be
performed, and that, as in duty bound, he should perform it.
"None but a dog would obey such orders," replied Mr. Davis,
emphasizing his determination never to be manacled alive by grasping
the stool and aiming a very vicious blow. The sentries rushed
forward to disarm him, but were ordered back into their places.
Captain Titlow explained that such demonstrations of self-defense
were foolish and useless, and that it would be much better for Mr.
Davis to submit to the inevitable necessity. But while receiving
this advice, Davis took the opportunity of grasping the musket of
one of the sentries, and in the furious endeavor to wrest it from
him, quite a scuffle ensued.
That ended, the Captain took the precaution of clapping his hand
on his sword-hilt, as he perceived Mr. Davis' eye was upon it, and
at once ordered the corporal of the guard to send into the casemate
four of his strongest men without side arms, as he feared they
might get into the wrong possession and cause damage. They were
ordered to take the prisoner as gently as possible, and, using no
unnecessary force, to lay him upon the cot and there hold him down.
It proved about as much as four men could do, the writhings and
upheavings of the infuriated man developing the strength of a
maniac, until it culminated in sheer exhaustion. When the unhappy
task was done Mr. Davis, after lying still for awhile, raised
himself and sat on the side of the bed.
As his feet touched the floor and the chain clanked he was utterly
overcome; the tears burst out in a flood. When he became calm he
apologized in a manly way to the Captain for the needless trouble
he had caused him, and they afterward maintained mutual relations
of personal esteem and friendliness. The indignity had, however,
such an effect upon Mr. Davis that the physician called in insisted
on the removal of the irons. Permission to do this was reluctantly
obtained from Washington, and the same man who had put on the
fetters took them off.
This act did much to restore the deposed leader of the Rebellion
to the foremost place, which he had forfeited, in the hearts of
those who had rebelled. The imperious manner in which Mr. Davis
had dictated the military operations of the Confederacy, placing
his personal favorites in command, and his inglorious flight from
Richmond, which was burned and plundered by the Confederates, while
the fugitive "President" carried away a large sum in gold, had
increased the feeling of dissatisfaction which had always existed
in "Dixie" with Mr. Davis. But when he was ironed and otherwise
subjected to harsh treatment, the Southern heart was touched, and
every white man, woman, and child felt that they were, through him,
thus harshly dealt with. The manacling of Mr. Davis delayed the
work of reconstruction for years, and did much to restore the
feeling of sectional hatred which fair fighting had overcome.
John Pierpont, the veteran parson-poet, came to Washington as the
chaplain to Henry Wilson's regiment, but he found himself unable
to endure the hardships of camp life, and Senator Sherman obtained
a clerkship in the Treasury for him. When he reached his eightieth
birthday, in 1866, he was told in the evening that a few friends
had called, and on entering the parlor to greet them he was entirely
surprised. One presented him with a gold watch, another with a
valuable cane, and another with a large photograph-album containing
the portraits of old Boston friends and parishioners. But the most
valuable gift was a large portfolio filled with autograph letters
of congratulation in poetry and prose from Sumner, Wilson, Mr.
Sigourney, Whittier, Wood, Dana, Holmes, Whipple, and other prominent
authors, with other letters signed Moses Williams, Gardner Brewer,
William W. Clapp, and other "solid men of Boston." All old
differences of opinion were forgotten and due honor was paid to
the poet, the priest, the emancipationist, and the temperance
reformer of "Auld Lang Syne."
Those who were encouraging the President in his opposition to the
reconstruction policy of Congress, with others who had received or
who expected to obtain Federal offices, got up at Philadelphia what
was known as the "Bread and Butter Convention," at which the Union
"as it was" was advocated. Soon afterward, President Johnson with
Secretaries Seward and Welles, with General Grant and others, set
out for Chicago to attend the ceremonies of laying the corner-stone
of the monument to Stephen A. Douglas. It was this political
pilgrimage that gave rise to the well-known expression, "swinging
round the circle." The President spoke very freely of his policy
in the different places on the route, openly denouncing Congress
and saying many things that were decidedly inconsistent with the
dignity of his position, and unquestionably injurious to him.
Senator Sumner was married at Boston on the 17th of October, 1866,
by Bishop Eastman, to Mrs. Alice Hooper, a daughter of Jonathan
Mason and the widow of Samuel Sturges Hooper, only son of Representative
Sam Hooper. Mr. Sumner was then in the fifty-sixth year of his
age, and had never before been a victim to the tender passion.
Almost every day through the preceding session Mrs. Hooper had
occupied a seat in the gallery directly behind him, and had appeared
engrossed in his words and actions. They saw a good deal of each
other at Mrs. Hooper's, where Mr. Sumner became a daily visitor,
and on the last day of the session he announced his engagement to
his friends.
The newly married couple passed their honeymoon at Newport,
accompanied by the bride's young daughter. He finished a letter
there to a friend by quoting from the _Spectator_, and saying: "I
shall endeavor to live hereafter suitably to a man in my station,
as a prudent head of a family, a good husband, a careful father
(when it shall so happen), and as your most sincere friend,
C. SUMNER."
The bridegroom little thought that these dreams of domestic happiness
would never be realized, and that in a few months his life would
be embittered by his great family trouble, which the world never
guessed, much less knew, but which turned his love for his wife
into hatred, and his hopes for handing his name to posterity into
unforgiving anger. Senator and Mrs. Sumner, when they came to
Washington after their marriage, occupied a handsomely furnished
house on I Street. Mrs. Sumner at once manifested a fondness for
"society," often insisting on remaining at receptions until a late
hour, when he had unfinished Senatorial work on his desk that would
have to be completed on his return home.
President Johnson suffered by his undue kindness to pardon-brokers,
prominent among whom as a good-looking young woman named Mrs. Cobb.
She was a constant visitor at the White House, and boasted that
she could obtain pardons in six hours for a proper pecuniary
consideration. Detective Baker worked up a fictitious case for
the purpose of entrapping her. She agreed, in writing, for three
hundred dollars, to obtain the pardon of a Captain Hine, receiving
one hundred dollars cash down, the rest to be paid when the pardon
was delivered. After the pardon was signed by President Johnson,
Detective Baker laid the papers before him, upon which the President
grew very angry, and finally ordered Detective Baker from the White
House. Mrs. Cobb and her friends insisted that it was a "put-up"
job, and the Grand Jury indicted Detective Baker, but the case was
never brought to trial.
When Congress met in December, 1866, Representative James M. Ashley,
of the Toledo district of Ohio, commenced operations as chief
impeacher of President Johnson. He had begun life at an early age
as a clerk on a trading-boat on the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers,
driving sharp bargains with the plantation darkies on the banks,
in the exchange of cheap jewelry and gay calicoes for cotton and
eggs. Next he undertook to learn the art and mystery of printing,
studying law meanwhile, and finally located at Toledo as the editor
of a Democratic paper. He was not a success as an editor, and went
from the sanctum into a drug-store, where he put up prescriptions
"at all hours of the night." Joining the Republican party in its
infancy, he obtained an election to Congress, but failed to create
any sensation until he mounted the hobby of impeachment, which
enabled him to advertise himself extensively, and without expense.
He was a rather short, fat man, with a clean-shaven face, and a
large shock of bushy, light hair, which he kept hanging over his
forehead like a frowsy bang threatening to obstruct his vision.
He passed much of his time in perambulating the aisles of the House,
holding short conferences with leading Republicans, and casting
frequent glances into the ladies' gallery. A man of the lightest
mental calibre and most insufficient capacity, he constituted
himself the chief impeacher, and assumed a position that should
have been held by a strong-nerved, deep-sighted, able man.
The Supreme Court, on the last day of 1866, presented to the Radicals
an unacceptable New Year's present in the shape of a decision on
the legality of military commissions. The case was that of Lamden
P. Milligan, who had been sentenced to death, and on whose appeal
for setting aside his trial there had been a division of opinion
between the Judges of the Circuit Court of the United States for
the District of Indiana. The Supreme Court was unanimous in deciding
that no authority existed in the State of Indiana for the trial of
Milligan by a Military Commission, and that he was entitled to the
discharge prayed for in his petition, his case coming within the
strict letter of the law of Congress, passed in 1863, authorizing
the suspension of the writ of _habeas corpus_. On the question
whether Congress had a right to legalize military commissions in
States where the authority and action of the established courts
was unimpeded for the trial of civilians, there was a disagreement.
Five of the judges held the affirmative, and four the negative.
This decision made the leading Radicals very angry, and Thad.
Stevens undertook to prepare a bill to remodel the court. Public
opinion generally rejoiced at the suppression of unjust tribunals
"organized to convict."
[Facsimile]
Edwin MStanton
SecofWar
EDWIN McMASTERS STANTON was born at Steubenville, Ohio, December
19th, 1814; was graduated at Kenyon College in 1834; practiced law
at Steubenville and afterward at Pittsburg; was Attorney-General
under President Buchanan, December, 1860 - March, 1861; was Secretary
of War under President Lincoln and Johnson, January, 1860 - May,
1868; was appointed Associate Justice of the Supreme Court by
President Grant, and the appointment was promptly confirmed by the
Senate, but before the commission was issued he died, December
24th, 1869.