ACT IN THE DRAMA.—PRIDE ON THE ONE SIDE AND JUSTICE ON THE OTHER PROMPTING THE ACTORS.
THERE is nothing so uncommon as common sense; nor is there anything more distasteful than common sense to such as pride themselves on technical knowledge. The doctor who would rather kill by rule than cure by reason, if the reason chanced to come from a sick-nurse, or from an old woman; and the lawyer who would rather lose a case by observing technicalities and following precedents, than gain it by exercising plain common sense, are by no means so rare as some suppose. They are to be found in all the walks of life, high as well as low, and whenever or wherever found, should be carefully noted, especially by the historian, in order to warn others from falling into a like error.
From the very day the provost-court opened in Alexandria, the secessionists of that city, and all whom they could influence in Washington and elsewhere, commenced to oppose it—not so much openly as secretly. This was especially true of the only lawyer remaining there, and his reasons for opposition were of a threefold character. First, he saw it might, and probably would be used in the interests of the Union cause and in the cause of freedom, and thus interfere with the plans of secessionists and of slave-owners; secondly, he opposed it because the court refused to admit him, or any other lawyer, to practise in it, unless they would first take the oath of allegiance to the United States government; and thirdly, because the court was presided over by one who was not a professional lawyer; by one who seemed to have more regard for justice and equity than for legal technicalities; by one who cared nothing about the laws of Virginia, or law precedents of any State, if one or the other stood in the way of justice; by one who preferred to be guided by the rules of common sense, rather than by the rules of law. To one who is not a professional man himself, all this may seem strange; but to one who has mingled much with professional men, it will be readily understood as comprehending cases which have fallen under his own observation. On the pretence of protecting the people, though really to protect their own selfish interests, both doctors and lawyers have procured the passage of laws in many States, whereby no one is authorized to practise in either profession until he shall have complied with such rules and regulations as these laws prescribe. It is virtually a relinquishment by the people of one of the very first principles of freedom—namely, the right to choose their own agents or servants, but it is submitted to on the plea that it keeps out quacks and pettifoggers. If, while keeping these out, it imparted more of common sense to those taken in, it would be at least compensating in its operations, but it does neither.
It was observed that immediately after the court fined that secessionist five hundred dollars for assault and threat to kill the Unionist (an account of which has heretofore been given), the Alexandria lawyer became doubly active in his opposition to the court, and it was stated, as a reason for his greatly increased activity, that the hardware merchant had agreed to give the five hundred dollars as a fee to the lawyer, provided he could get it back, and procure an order from General McClellan, or from the authorities at Washington, to suppress the court. To effect this object the Alexandria lawyer applied to every prominent secessionist at Washington, and got from each the promise to bring to bear whatever influence he could, through Northern sympathizers. He went himself, personally, to every lawyer in Washington, and appealed to each to protect the "honor of their profession," by assisting to suppress a court which had no legal existence, or, at least, to remove from its head one who was not a lawyer, but a doctor, by profession. Even several Union lawyers were moved to activity by this plea for "protection to the profession," while secession lawyers were ready enough to make this, or anything else, a plea whereby to cripple the government.
It came to the ears of Judge Freese that some of these professedly Union, but really disloyal, lawyers had gone direct to President Lincoln and urged him, both as President and as a lawyer, to issue an order to suppress the Alexandria court, or, at least, direct the removal of the "doctor-judge." The reply, as reported by one who chanced to be present, was characteristic of President Lincoln, and in about the following words: "I have known Dr. Freese as a first-class physician for some years, and have only known of him as a judge for a few months: but from the way he administers law-doses to these Alexandrians, I am beginning to think that he is even a better judge than he is a doctor. He may not understand legal technicalities and the rules of courts quite as well as some lawyers I know of—present company, of course, always excepted—but he shows in his decisions a wonderful deal of common sense, which is far better than rules of law or technicalities. What they say of the doctor reminds me of a story which is told of a man who said he could not cure chills and fever, but was 'death on fits,' and wanted all his patients to have fits, when he would cure them at once. Most of our lawyers and judges are death on technicalities, but can't cure the commonest ills to which society is subjected; whereas, Dr. Freese is curing the ills of Alexandria so rapidly and so successfully, that it will soon be one of the most healthy and one of the most thoroughly Union cities in the whole country'. I would not interfere with him or his court for the world, and don't think any one else should."
Finding that they could make no impression upon the President, they next went to the Secretary of War, Simon Cameron. He listened to all they had to say, and then replied about as follows: "Yes, I've heard considerable about Freese's 'Bayonet Court,' as secessionists and Northern sympathizers with secession call it, and the more I've heard of it the better I like it. I only wish we had just such a court, and just such a judge at the head of it, in every city we've conquered from the rebels. They would do more towards extracting the venom of these secession serpents than all our armies combined. As to the Judge being a doctor, instead of a lawyer, by profession, that only makes me think the more of him. A lawyer is anybody's man who'll pay him a fee, and the one who'll pay the best is apt to get from him the best service, no matter on which side he pretends to be employed, but a doctor has only to cure the case in hand, and can have no conflicting interests; and from the way Judge Freese is pulling out the teeth of those secession scoundrels, by taking from them the means to do harm and transferring it to the pockets of those to whom it justly belongs, and who will use it to sustain the Union cause, I am satisfied that he is just the man for the place, and on no account would I do anything to suppress either him or his court."
Their next applications were to the Attorney-General, Edward Bates, of Missouri, and Postmaster-General Montgomery Blair, of Maryland. Here they struck chords which were much more likely to prove responsive—not only because they each had been pro-slavery men all their lives, and would naturally resent Judge Freese's interference with the "institution," and with those who still claimed the right to hold and to use "human chattels" just as they pleased, but, more especially, because they were both lawyers, both felt a special interest in maintaining the "dignity of the profession" for both expected to return to active practice so soon as they vacated their then official positions in Mr. Lincoln's cabinet. Mr. Bates took up the matter with great earnestness so soon as it was fairly before him, and, within one hour from the time the self-constituted committee left him, he was with the President, urging him to suppress the court. When Mr. Lincoln had expressed his opinions concerning it, Mr. Bates, for the time being, seemed entirely nonplussed; but next day he returned to the attack with renewed energy, and for days and weeks after that, whenever he met the President, he had something to say against the Alexandria provost-court. Mr. Blair also spoke to the President concerning it, and strongly contended that it would greatly aid the Union cause, "especially in the border States," if that court were suppressed. The President did not think so, and would give no such order.
While these efforts were being made with the President and with the Cabinet, corresponding efforts were being made with General McClellan, then in command of the troops on the south side of the Potomac. Within a week or two from the opening of the court, one of the General's aids called upon General Montgomery to make inquiry about it, and several times after that this same aid (whom the Union men of Alexandria knew personally as a pro-slavery Washington sympathizer with the rebellion, though professedly a Union man) called upon General Montgomery to protest against the acts of the court, so far as they related to the people of Alexandria. Whether always sent by General McClellan, or whether he sometimes called on his own volition, was not definitely known. The Alexandria secession lawyer seemed to be on intimate personal relations with this aid-de-camp, and it may have been that this personal relationship stirred up the aid to special efforts. Doubtless the lawyer kept the aid, and, through the aid, General McClellan, well-informed of all that was going on in Alexandria—especially with regard to the doings of the provost court.
Thus matters had gone on, and were going on, up to the time when the last case recorded in the previous chapter was decided by the court. The publicity given to that case, by the publication at length of the Judge's opinion in the New York Times and other Northern papers, aroused the entire pro-slavery secession-sympathizing element of the Northern States, and in a few days thereafter it came surging into Washington like a flood. It beat against the door of every Cabinet officer; it rolled and tumbled about in every hotel and drinking-saloon; it surged violently against the White House; and even found its way into the executive chamber. Mr. Bates now put on renewed and increased vigor, and insisted with the President, that, as all United States courts belonged to his department, and the people held him responsible, as Attorney-General, for their doings and misdoings, he, and he alone, ought to have the deciding of the Alexandria matter, and, if left with him, he would at once suppress the court.
When things had reached this crisis, the President sent word to Judge Freese to call upon him at his earliest convenience. The Judge, after being stationed at Alexandria, had, during the first few months, called frequently upon President Lincoln, Secretary Seward, and Secretary Cameron, as he had known them all personally, and somewhat intimately, for many years; but for the month preceding this word from the President, the Judge had been kept so exceedingly busy with the affairs of his court that he had scarcely been to Washington. On the afternoon of the next day after getting Mr. Lincoln's message, Judge Freese called upon him, and was received with the utmost cordiality. So soon as they were entirely alone, the President told the Judge of the position which Attorney-General Bates had taken with reference to the Alexandria court, and added: "I really think Bates will resign unless he can have his own way in this thing. I wish, Doctor, you would call upon him at once, and see if you can't change his mind. It would be a dreadful thing, just now, when we are in the midst of a war, to have any Cabinet officer resign, as our enemies would regard it as showing weakness on our part, and as a triumph for themselves, and yet I don't want your court closed, if it can possibly be helped. Call upon Bates, Doctor, call upon Bates, and let me know the result."
From the President's room the Judge went direct to Mr. Bates's office and had a long conference with him. The Attorney-General, while admitting the correctness of Judge Freese's decisions, so far as he had heard of them, still insisted that there was no law by which the existence of such a court was authorized, and therefore it ought to cease its operations at once. The Judge admitted that he knew of no law by which such a court was authorized, but contended that "necessity knew no law," and that the existence of just such a court was a real necessity in Alexandria, not only as a means of preserving the peace of the city, but for all other purposes for which courts were ever used, since the State, county, and municipal courts had all run away when the Union troops came in, and this was the only court through which justice could be obtained in any case or for any purpose. All this, the Attorney-General said, seemed to be true, but it was better to wait for justice than to violate known rules of law in trying to obtain it. "The court has no legal existence, sir, the court has no legal existence," he kept saying over and over again, and this was his answer, and his only answer, to every argument brought forth by the Judge. The Judge finally made him this proposition: "If you, sir, will withdraw your opposition to the continuance of this court, I will enter into a bond with the United States government, in the sum of one hundred thousand dollars, with good and sufficient sureties, the condition of which bond shall be, that, when the war shall have ended, every case which has been adjudicated by that court, and every one which may be adjudicated by it hereafter, shall be revised by the Supreme Court of the United States, or by any one or more of the justices thereof, and if in any case it be found that injustice has been done, I will refund to the parties doubly the amount out of which they have been wronged because of the action of the court; or, if any punishment has been inflicted beyond what the Supreme Court will say was right, under the circumstances, I will pay to the party punished, or to his legal representatives, whatever damages the Supreme Court may adjudge."
"This, certainly," replied the Attorney-General, "is a very fair proposition on your part; but, sir, the court has no legal existence, no legal existence, and while I remain Attorney-General, and am responsible for whatever is done in this department of governmental affairs, I cannot consent that such a court shall continue."
This ended their interview, for the Judge plainly saw that he might talk till doomsday and yet not change the Attorney-General's mind an iota. "Convince a man against his will, and he remains of the same opinion still," says an old maxim, and never was the maxim better exemplified than in the case of Mr. Bates. He was one of those men who looked at everything, as it were, through a gun-barrel, and could see nothing to the right or left of the one line of vision; one of those men who are so straight, that, like the Indian's gun, they "lean a little over;" one of those self opinionated men, who, having once conceived an idea or prejudice, no amount of argument can change his mind.
The next day the Judge again called upon the President, and told him all that had passed between the Attorney-General and himself. The President laughed heartily at the "mulishness of old Bates," as he called it, and yet seemed a good deal annoyed at the unreasonable stubbornness manifested by the Attorney-General. He did not, he said, know what to do or to say. He was in a quandary, and could not see his way clearly out. Finally, he asked the Judge to call upon the Secretary of War, and see what he might say about it.
The Judge then called upon Mr. Cameron, and told him of the interviews he had had with the President and with the Attorney-General, relative to the Alexandria court. The Secretary listened attentively, and, when the Judge had finished, expressed opinions about the Attorney-General more forcible than polite. He talked, he said, "just like a d—d old traitor, and if he is not one, his own tongue belies him!" He strongly suspected, he said, that "both Bates and Blair were wolves in sheep's clothing, and this only went to confirm that opinion." He had, he said, "expressed as much to the President, and would do so again when next he met him." He had thought himself of resigning, rather than remain in the Cabinet in company "with such d—d rascals and traitors to their country." For a full half-hour the Secretary fairly raved with excitement, and when the Judge was about to leave, told him to hold on, let come what would.
In this connection it may be well to add that within a few weeks after that interview Mr. Cameron did resign his place in the cabinet, and Mr. E. M. Stanton was appointed in his stead; but whether Bates's action in the case of the Alexandria court was one of his reasons for resigning, we have no means of knowing, though it Is not at all improbable.
Again the Judge called upon the President, and told him what had passed between Secretary Cameron and himself. The President seemed now more confounded than ever, and finally told the Judge to let things rest for a few days until he could think over the matter, and see what was best to be done.
About a week after this, the aid-de-camp of General McClellan, who had so often before called upon General Montgomery, called again, and told him that it was General McClellan's special wish that the provost-court should have nothing more to do with civil cases, or cases touching the subject of slavery in any way. That while General McClellan greatly preferred not to issue a formal order on the subject, yet he would certainly do so if his wishes could not be carried out in any other way. He was not willing, the aid said, to have Judge Freese interfere with the old citizens of Alexandria in any way, though if he chose to continue the court merely for the punishment of soldiers who got drunk within the city limits, or otherwise disturbed the peace, he had no objection. At the same visit, the aid delivered to General Montgomery an order from General McClellan requiring the court to refund to the Alexandria hardware merchant the five hundred dollars which he had been required to pay as a fine, because of the assault, with threat to kill, upon the Union man—all of which has heretofore been related.
When the aid had gone, General Montgomery sent for Judge Freese, and they had a long conference as to what had best be done under the circumstances. The Judge had before told the General all that had passed between the President, the Attorney-General, the Secretary of War, and himself; and the General now told the Judge all that had passed between General McClellan's aid-de-camp and himself. The Judge said that under no circumstances could he consent to continue the court, if thenceforth it was only to punish soldiers for drunkenness and other misdemeanors; that it had been exceedingly distasteful to him from the first to have to punish a soldier at all, and now to punish him alone, and let citizens, who committed offences far worse, go free from punishment, would be, in his opinion, a mockery of justice, and he would not be the presiding officer of such a court; that, it having gone abroad that the court was willing and ready to assist Northern creditors in their efforts to collect claims against disloyal debtors, it would now be exceedingly unpleasant to have to deny such claimants as might thereafter call, and, rather than have to do this, he would much prefer to see the court closed; for then the public would place the responsibility just where it belonged. The Judge added, that he knew the court was placing the President in a very embarrassing position, so far as related to his Cabinet; that, while Cameron and Seward were anxious to have the court continue, Bates and Blair were just as anxious to have it suppressed; and from the order just received from General McClellan to return the five hundred dollars fine, it was entirely clear that the secessionists of Alexandria, and the sympathizers with secession at the North, had gained complete control over him; from all of which the Judge thought it would be best to close the court.
General Montgomery fully concurred with the Judge in all these views, and added that, as the court had been organized upon his order, without first consulting with General McClellan or the President, he would much prefer to have it close voluntarily, than to be compelled to close it upon the order of General McClellan or of the President. The Judge replied, that while he believed that President Lincoln would never issue such an order, no matter what the consequences to himself might be, still he should be glad to relieve the President from what to him was evidently a great embarrassment; and if he, General Montgomery, would issue an order directing the court to close its operations on the next or any day following, he, the Judge, would gladly announce the order from the bench and adjourn the court sine die.
Such was the conclusion finally agreed upon. General Montgomery wrote out the necessary order and handed it to the Judge. Next day, after all the business before the court had been disposed of as usual, the Judge read General Montgomery's order from the bench, and explained to those present why it had been issued. Had a cannon burst then and there and killed a hundred men, the surprise could not have been greater. Some raved at Attorney-General Bates, and pro-slavery men generally; others cursed General McClellan and Northern sympathizers with rebellion, generally; deep and somewhat loud were the mutterings among all present; but the order was irrevocable, and thus closed at once and forever the provost-court of Alexandria.
Had that court been continued, and others like it established in every city of the South, so soon as they came into the possession of Union troops, at least one hundred millions of dollars would have been collected from the property of Southern debtors and gone into the pockets of Northern creditors; the war would have ended two years sooner; over five hundred millions of dollars would have been saved to the United States treasury; and over one hundred thousand lives been saved to the homes and families of both the North and the South. Only at the last judgment-day will it be known how great was the mistake—a mistake which, in its ultimate consequences, was not less ruinous to the South than to the North—of those who insisted upon, and who finally compelled, the closing of the provost-court at Alexandria.
We say this after a full consideration of the whole subject as drawn from the facts heretofore detailed in this volume, and do not think we shall have to take a single word of it back. True, very true, as eloquently stated in a letter from our old friend, J. E. Brush, Esq., of New York—"Floyd, Thompson, and Cobb, of Buchanan's Cabinet, had so disarmed and depleted the government of means, that Lincoln had very slender resources; and the gullibility of Northern business men in filling the orders of Southern men for war material, for months previous to the opening of the war, proves that they meant business, while the North did not take in the situation at all;" still we think, but for the secret machinations of Northern sympathizers—of men on whom, for a time, the government relied and entirely trusted, including generals in the field, officers in the navy, and even officers in the Cabinet—the war would have been ended at least two years sooner, and hundreds of millions saved to the taxpayers of the country.
We are aware that such a statement at first sight seems extravagant, if not wild; but if the reader will carefully weigh each factor of the problem, and follow out the relation which each bears to the other; and then if he will suspend judgment until he shall have read the last chapter and last line of this book—so that he shall have all the facts before him, all the secret springs which were so adroitly worked, but of which nobody even suspected the existence, all the villanies of men singly and of men united in political and religious associations—we have no doubt at all but what he will reach the same conclusion that we have reached in the above paragraph. Facts and figures never lie when properly placed; but men are so disposed to shut their eyes against unpleasant facts, and so inclined to place figures in such a way as will bring the result they wish for, that the most palpable truths are often hid, and kept hid, from the public, until by some accident or incident the secrets are revealed, as in this volume.
WHEN, on the 15th of April, 1861, Abraham Lincoln, as President of the United States, called for 75,000 men, for three months, to suppress the rebellion, he did it after repeated consultations with every member of his Cabinet, both when assembled in council and privately with each individual member. That Cabinet was one of the ablest, if not the very ablest, that any President of the United States ever had about him. William H. Seward had been Governor of New York, had long been United States Senator, and understood the strength and resources of each individual State, and of the whole Union, as well, probably, as any man then living. Salmon P. Chase had been Governor of Ohio, long a United States Senator, was a thorough statistician, mathematician, and financier, and had made the resources of both States and nation a long and faithful study. Simon Cameron had been a statistician and banker nearly his whole life, had long been a United States Senator, was a man of unusually strong common sense, and had, from a political stand-point, made the Southern States and their peculiar institutions and resources a special study. Wells and Smith were good, strong, practical-sensed men; while Blair and Bates were both Southern men, were thoroughly conversant with the institutions, with the leading men, with the wealth, and with the resources of every Southern State.
One would have thought the combined wisdom of such a body of men as near perfection, as near certainty in political prophecy, as it was possible for men to attain, when judging of the future by inferences drawn from actual knowledge of the past and present; and yet, subsequent events proved that never were men wider from the mark than were these men in advising the President to call out 75,000 men for three months to subdue the rebellion. Why this great error of calculation and judgment?
Those who have carefully read the preceding chapters of this book will have the answer, in part, but not the whole answer. Of course, President Lincoln and his Cabinet thoroughly understood the sympathy which existed between English cotton-spinners and American cotton-growers, and, in their calculations, made due allowance for this feeling. They also understood thoroughly the sympathy existing between the aristocracy of England and king cotton of America; for they well knew that the aristocracy of England were largely the owners of those cotton-mills or furnished the capital with which to run them. For this, then, they also made due allowance in all their calculations; and, with a view to checkmate this influence as far as possible, sent Thurlow Weed on a secret mission to England. They understood the business relations of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company with the Southern States, as well as the relations of other incorporated companies, and of merchants generally, with the South. They knew of the debt that was then owing—nearly two hundred millions of dollars—from Southern merchants to Northern merchants, and fully comprehended the sympathy which such community of interests would naturally create between the parties; and for all this made due allowance. They understood, of course, the love of gain natural to every man, and that merchants, manufacturers, and others, by the thousands, would be on the constant lookout to make money out of the war in any possible way commensurate with their own safety; and for this made due allowance in their calculations as to what was to be overcome. And last, but not least, they well understood the general sympathy which was felt by the Democratic party of the North for the people and peculiar institutions of the South, and how ready some of the leaders of that party would be to aid the South in any way they could with safety to themselves; but they also understood that a very large number of the followers of the masses—of the bone and sinew of that party—were patriotic; while another portion, and a very large portion, would be ready to hire themselves to do whatever would pay best, and that if large monthly pay and large bounties were offered, these men would be as ready to hire themselves to kill their fellow-men as to slaughter cattle; and with these two elements (the patriotic and the mercenary), they believed the party could be so far controlled as to prevent it from doing any material injury to the Union cause.
But while comprehending all these things, and making due allowance for them all, they did not comprehend nor make allowance for the deep-seated, desperate, condemnable villany that was hid away in the hearts of these same Democratic leaders, and that would come forth from its hiding-places whenever and wherever it could do so with the hope of gain to itself, or with the hope of so crippling the Union cause that it would finally fail, when the affairs of the government would again fall into the hands of the Democratic party.
They did not comprehend, nor was it possible for any human foresight to have conceived any one of the many secret devices recorded in the preceding chapters of this volume, whereby men could and would serve the rebellion in the guise of Unionism; whereby men would, while playing the patriot, really be the most desperate rebels At heart; whereby men could, while receiving pay as generals in the Union army, do acts whereby millions of dollars were lost to loyal merchants; whereby transportation companies would, through its leading officers, while receiving large pay from the United States government for services legitimately rendered, be all the while aiding the rebellion by furnishing ships and money with which to exchange cotton for war materials and army supplies; whereby, in a word, the Democratic party, as a party would so exercise its influence that vice disguised would seem virtue personified; that the promise of a candidacy to the office of President would so change the heart and paralyze the arm of a Union general as to make him favor the rebel cause by delays, and by transferring (through the closing of a provost-court) the sinews of war (millions of dollars) from Union pockets to rebel coffers; that steamship companies, while receiving the protection of Union arms, would be all the while aiding the rebel cause; and that men, otherwise regarded as honorable, high-minded gentlemen, would, because of old political prejudice and present gain, meet in secret conclaves in New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington, and then and there concoct the most desperate measures in aid of rebellion. These were secrets which no human eye could penetrate, exigencies against which no human foresight could provide, and hence it cannot be said in truth that these men failed in judgment, since they only failed upon points which were entirely outside of all human calculation.
But for these things, three months' service of 75,000 men would have been amply sufficient to crush the rebellion, and from this we draw our first inference—which no one can pronounce otherwise than fair—that whatever time it took beyond three months to crush the rebellion, whatever men it took beyond 75,000, whatever money it cost beyond the pay of 75,000 for three months, together with collateral expenses for the same time, and whatever lives it cost beyond what would have been the probable mortality among the 75,000, are chargeable, fairly chargeable, unquestionably chargeable, to the Democratic party as a party. We are careful to say as a party, for we know many individuals of that party who are as honorable, as pure, as patriotic as any in the Republican party, and who only continue their connection with that party (for they know its past sins and present corruptions quite as well as we do) either because their fathers were Democrats' and they do not wish to be regarded as "turn-coats," or because they think the chances of political preferment are better in the Democratic than in the Republican party; or, as they have sometimes replied to us, half in jest and half in earnest, "the more corrupt the party is as a party, the greater necessity is there to have some good men remain in it, to prevent it from doing greater injury to the country."
As historian, and as readers searching after truth, our next inquiry will naturally be—First. How much more time did it take to subdue the rebellion? Second. How many more men did it take? Third. How much additional did it cost? Fourth. How many additional lives were sacrificed? All these we regard as properly belonging to "Secrets of the Late Rebellion, now Revealed for the First Time," for the reason that no one heretofore has ever made researches in this particular direction, and while the facts have existed ever since they came into being (just as the continent of America existed long before Columbus discovered it), yet they have never until now been revealed to the public in the relations and connections to which they historically belong.
I. Though both North and South had been making preparations months before, the actual beginning of open war may be dated from the firing upon Fort Sumter, on the 12th of April, 1861. The close of the war may be reckoned from the surrender of General Lee to General Grant, at Appomattox Court-House, on April 9th, 1865, though it was months after before all the volunteer troops were disbanded and had reached their homes. From the firing on Fort Sumter to the surrender was three years, eleven months, and twenty-eight days; or, to make the calculation still finer, from the calling out of the seventy-five thousand troops to Lee's surrender was three years, eleven months, and twenty-five days. Now, deduct from this three months, and you have the extra time consumed in crushing the rebellion, every month, every week, and every day of which is justly chargeable to the Democratic party.
II. The records of the War Department show that 2,688,523 men were called into the national service from the beginning to the end of the war. Deduct from this number 75,000, and you have the additional number called into service because of the secret machinations and villa-nies heretofore spoken of., viz, 2,613,523, every man of whom is chargeable, fairly chargeable, unquestionably chargeable to the Democratic party.
III. At the close of the fiscal year (June 30th) for 1861, the Treasurer reported the debt of the United States to be $90,867,828. On the 31st of March, 1865, the Treasurer reported the public debt of the United States to be $2,423,437,001, showing an increase during the war of $2,332,567,173. This increase of debt of the general government by no means represents the sum-total cost of the war; for, meanwhile, the people had been paying immensely increased taxes every year, and beside this every State, every county, every large city, and almost every township of the North had been issuing bonds with which to pay bounties and other war expenses, so that in 1865 the amount of bounties paid by States and local authorities, so far as returned to the general government, amounted to $285,941,036. Add this to the government debt and you have the sum of $2,709,378,037. It is difficult, if not impossible, for any mind to really comprehend so large a sum, and the only way to appreciate it is to divide it among families, or individualize it. In 1860 the United States census returns show for the eighteen Northern States 18,855,831. In 1870 the returns show for the same States 24,035,359. There being no census returns for 1865 (as the United States census is only taken at the close of each ten years), the only way to approximate the population then is to divide the increase between 1860 and 1870. This indicates a population in these eighteen States for 1865 to have been about 21,445,595. Now the average estimate for each family is five. This would give us 4,289,119 families as existing in these States at that time. Next, divide the number of families into the number of dollars of public debt, and you show that upon each family was saddled, at the close of the war, a debt of $631.68. Or, to individualize it, divide this sum by five, and you have the sum of $126.33 as the average debt then owing by every mart, woman, and child then residing in the eighteen Northern States. Thus, it mattered not how poor a man was, or how many children he had, a ticket of indebtedness for the sum of $126.33 was plastered on the forehead of each. "Oh, well," some one may say, "that was easy enough for rich men to pay, and of course the poor never paid it, nor never will, since many of the very poor never handle as much money as that in all their lives. Why, to a man with ten children (and the poor, you know, generally have the most) that would have made a debt of $1515.96, which of course he could never pay, in addition to supporting his family." Ah! but, my friend, there is just where you are most mistaken; for it is just that class of men, together with farmers, who do pay much the larger proportion of public debts. True, they never pay it, nor would try to pay it, in dollars and cents to the tax-gatherer; but they pay it in the increased price they pay the merchant for the tea and coffee they drink, for the muslins and woollens, and hats and shoes they wear; they pay it in increased rents and decreased wages; and the farmer pays it not only in every article that he purchases, but in increased taxes and in decreased receipts for what he raises to sell. And what these fail to pay, the rich have to pay in increased taxes for State, county, township, or municipal purposes.
Now let us apply these facts to the solving of the problem (third)—How much additional did it cost?
This we can only do approximately by stating the problem thus: If to bring into the field 2,688,523 men for forty-seven months cost $2,709,378,037, how much would it have cost to bring in 75,000 for three months? Deduct this sum, amounting to $4,824,369 from the whole cost, and we have remaining the sum of $2,704,553,668 as the additional cost of the war because of the secret machinations and most desperate villanies described in the previous chapters of this book—every dollar of which, every penny of which, is justly chargeable to the Democratic party as a party. Or, to make the matter still plainer, more than three-fourths of all the taxes which the poor man, or farmer, or rich man has heretofore paid, or will hereafter pay, whether upon what he eats and drinks and wears, or upon cash paid tax-collector, is directly chargeable to the Democratic party.
IV. How many additional lives were sacrificed? This, like the last question, can only be answered approximately, and by the same process of reasoning.
The reports made to the War Department, during the war, show the total loss to have been 280,420 men—the very sight of which figures makes the heart sink in agony and sicken over the thought, and yet there is no escaping their terrible reality.
To get at the additional sacrifice, the proposition may be stated thus: If in a war lasting forty-seven months, with 2,688,523 men in service (of whom 1,500,000 it is estimated were in battles), the sacrifice of life amounted to 280,420 men, what would have been the sacrifice had the war lasted only three months, with 75,000 men in service? The answer to this problem is 499 lives. Now take this number from the former, and you have as the additional number 279,921 lives—the loss of which is as fairly attributable to the Democratic party as though it had by sentence condemned, and by its own power had executed, every one of these men.
The remains of thousands and tens of thousands who died in the service never were gathered, but to-day lie in Southern swamps, scattered over Southern cotton-fields, or at the bottom of the deep, blue sea, "unknown, unhonored, and unwept;" but the remains of other thousands and tens of thousands have been gathered, and now lie in National cemeteries at Arlington Heights, at Gettysburg, at Antietam, at Beverly, and at many other places throughout the length and breadth of our land. The above calculations show—and figures never lie when correctly placed—that if upon ninety-five out of every one hundred headstones erected to the memory of these departed heroes in the National and private cemeteries of our country were written the words, Died by the hands of the Democratic party, the record would be as true as anything now written upon those headstones.
We are fully aware of the terrible character of this indictment. We know already how many thousands will hold up their hands in holy horror and exclaim, Oh, this cannot be so! These are not the words of a historian, but of a politician, who allows his prejudices to get the better of his reason! But hold, my friend, hold, and think twice before you condemn once. Are they not words of truth and soberness? Examine each proposition just as carefully as you would examine one of Euclid's problems (for this is just what we have tried to do), and see if it is possible to reach any other conclusion. Republican though we certainly are, yet, in examining these questions as a historian, we have tried to divest our mind of every particle of political prejudice, and though the results of our researches and calculations are as astounding, as terrible, as sickening-of-heart to us as they can possibly be to any one of our readers, yet the figures would show no other, and we have had to accept them as veritable.
And yet the secret is only half out—the story, as yet, but half told. The losses of time, of money, and of lives heretofore spoken of relate only to the North—the Southern side of the story remains yet to be told; for in this volume we are writing no less for the information of Southern than of Northern men, nor would we in this record do any less justice to the South than to the North.
Jefferson Davis, however wild and mistaken politically, was never other than a high-minded, chivalrous gentleman. He was just as honest in his advocacy of slavery as Paul was in his advocacy of Phariseeism; and when Davis went forth to catch, imprison, and, if need be, to slay the enemies of slavery, he did it as conscientiously as Paul did, or meant to do, his work, in going to Damascus with the commission of a high-priest in his pocket Not only so, but President Davis was a man of deep knowledge, a thorough statistician, a cool calculator, and one who never took a step without first carefully counting the cost. He was the farthest possible remove from a reckless man. When a young man in the United States army and with the troops in Mexico, he never struck a blow, or made the least move, without first considering all the chances. In this respect he was almost as careful and as prudent as his renowned father-in-law, General Zachary Taylor. As a United States Senator he was remarkable for his caution and foresight, and though he sometimes took part in sharp debate, his general political tactics were conservative, watch for chances, investigate thoroughly, and then strike with effect.
Now, we have it only second-handed from President Davis's own lips that he would never have thought of a war with the North—never would have recommended such a war—never would have engaged in such a war—"but for encouragement given him, and actual pledges made him, by leading Democrats of the Northern States." He had once been Secretary of War; he had been a United States Senator for several years preceding the rebellion; he thoroughly understood the resources, not only of the general government, but of each individual State, and would, as he said, have thought it perfect madness for the South to have attempted a separate confederation, "but for the pledges of assistance made him and others by leading Democrats of the Northern States." Of this, as an historical fact, there is no more doubt than that there was a war. Outside of President Davis's own word, the facts heretofore related in this volume, and a thousand others which might be adduced, are confirmatory of these statements. .
Again, the men whom President Davis had about him as a Cabinet and as outside advisers were generally men of marked intelligence and large experience, one of whom (John Tyler) had been President of the United States; some had been United States Senators; others, Congressmen; others had all their lives been connected with the army or navy; and scarcely one of all but what thoroughly understood the strength and resources, not only of the general government, but of each State, North and South. Is it to be presumed that a single one of these men would have ever thought of rebellion, or said one word to encourage it, but for the assurances they had from leading Northern Democrats that the party, as a party, would sustain them in such a movement?
If these facts be admitted, and this inference be conceded, does it not follow as an inevitable conclusion that the Democratic party, as a party, is responsible before God, and should be held responsible before all men, for the time wasted, the money squandered, and the lives sacrificed by the South in their attempt to establish a separate confederacy?
We cannot give the exact figures, for the archives of the Confederate government were mostly destroyed when the rebels fled and the Union army took possession of Richmond; but think, reader, think how many weary days, and weeks, and months, and years of untold suffering that was caused by that mad and murderous attempt; think of the houses burned, homes desolated, plantations ruined, by the frenzy and fury of reckless demagogues; think of the thousands of affluent families made homeless and penniless by this mad attempt, and of the thousands upon thousands who were once comfortable now turned out as beggars to die, through the efforts of a band of conspirators; think of the millions upon millions of hard-earned dollars squandered, worse than squandered, by this mad attempt; think of the thousands upon thousands of wives made widows, children made fatherless, parents made childless, by this foul treason; and then think—for if you are honest with your own conscience, and can rid yourself of political prejudice, you must think it—that all this waste of time, all this squandering of money, all this sacrifice of lives, all this suffering of wives, of children, of parents, is unquestionably chargeable to the Democratic party; and, with this last thought, ask yourself the question, What should be thought of—what should be the fate of—a party guilty of such unparalleled wickedness?
Of course, to this last question there could be but one answer, and yet the party feebly lives! Why it lives—for what purpose it lives—would be the next question which would naturally arise with every searcher after truth. To these inquiries we will try to give an answer, not an opinion merely, but an answer founded upon accredited history, as have been all the answers heretofore given.
It is well known to every student of history that, as far back as 1817, the leading sovereigns and princes of Europe, in their solemn conclaves and secret treaties with each other, formed the determination to subvert the liberties of the United States. Much of what was said and done at that time leaked out, and was duly communicated by our ministers and consuls abroad to the general government; but so conscious was our government of its own strength in the hearts of the people, that all such threats passed them by like the idle wind. When, however, the Duke of Richmond died in Montreal in 1819—a man whom everybody knew to be a sagacious and wise statesman, and whose many high employments had made him intimate with all the sovereigns and politics of Europe, and whose deep personal interests at stake gave to his opinions immense weight—and when he declared, a short time before his death, that "The surplus population of Europe, when not wanted for the armies and navies of their own land, would be permitted to flock here, and would be entitled to vote; and, mingling in the elections without a knowledge or a love of the laws, or even the language, of the country, will be tools for demagogues, and create a disturbing influence, which the government cannot withstand;" and when to this he added, "I have conversed with many of the princes and sovereigns of Europe, particularly with George III. and Louis XVIII., and they have unanimously expressed these opinions relative to the government of the United States, and their determination to subvert it"—when, we say, these were published and became generally known shortly after his death, they did for a little while create some excitement, and both government officials and the people had something to say about these statements; but such was the confidence felt in our own strength, that the words of the Duke were soon forgotten, and were laid away with the "mouldering past."
Only three years thereafter (in A. d. 1822) the great powers of Europe held a congress at Vienna, and among the conclusions then and there reached, and which formed a part of their treaty stipulations, the two following cannot but strike Americans with great force:
"Article I. The high contracting powers being convinced that the system of representative governments is equally as incompatible with monarchical principles, as the maxim of the sovereignty of the people with the divine right of kings, engage mutually, in the most solemn manner, to use all their efforts to put an end to the system of representative governments in Europe, and to prevent its being introduced into those countries where it is not known.
"Article II. As it cannot be doubted that the liberty of the press is the most powerful means used by the pretended supporters of the rights of nations to the detriment of those princes, the high contracting powers promise reciprocally to adopt all proper means to suppress it."
The representatives of this government in Europe got hold of these articles soon after, and duly communicated them to the State Department at Washington; and the newspapers of this country also got hold of them, and for awhile had considerable to say about them; but erelong the excitement of both government and people died out, and things went on in their usual way. How many times since then the powers of Europe have met in secret conclave and reaffirmed what they then said, and adopted secret measures whereby to carry out these resolves, is not generally known, for the reason that the excitement following their first promulgation gave them warning that whatever they said or did in that direction thereafter had better be with closed doors, and under the most sacred pledges of profound secrecy.
The congress at Vienna was held soon after they had lodged the First Napoleon safely at St. Helena, and when all the world seemed to be applauding them for the act, and hence their outspoken boldness in denouncing representative forms of government and the liberty of the press. Indeed, in view of what they had all just witnessed, and some of them severely felt, it was not at all unnatural that they should have adopted the two articles quoted; and that they should have ever since felt that there was an irrepressible conflict between the "divine right of kings" and representative forms of government—between the absolute rule of kings and the liberty of the press, and that one or the other must eventually supersede the other. Hence, with them it became a question of self preservation—the very first law of nature—and under such circumstances it was not at all wonderful that they resolved just as they did.
They had recently witnessed the final act of a French drama and tragedy combined—the French Revolution, and the career of Napoleon as a consequence thereof—which they regarded as results of a representative form of government and of the liberty of the press; but which were results rather of irresponsible personal government and license of the press. They had seen or read of the assembling of a French parliament that had refused to register the royal edicts; they had witnessed or read of the disputes between the king and parliament, and the death soon after of Louis XV.; from thence they had observed the spread of liberal opinions and the accession of Louis XVI. to the throne of France; next, they had seen or read of the calling together of the States-General, and how they, soon after assembling, had assumed the name of the "National Assembly;" they knew of the dismissal of Neckar; the destruction of the Bastile; the abolishment of the privileges of the nobles and clergy, and of the first insult offered to the king and royal family; of Robespierre's government and the dreadful disorders accompanying it; of Lafayette's resignation; of the trial and execution of Louis XVI. and of his queen, Marie Antoinette, and of the Duke of Orleans; of the Convention's abjuration of the Catholic religion and substitution of reason in its place; of the abolition of the Sabbath; of the tens of thousands beheaded, or otherwise slaughtered, in Paris; of how Napoleon Bonaparte had finally appeared upon the scene, and for a while seemed to still the troubled waters; but how he erelong not only usurped the crown, but commenced war upon almost every nation of Europe; how in a hundred battles fought by him, at Austerlitz and elsewhere, he had been successful in almost every one; how he had finally invaded Russia and thus defeated himself; how he was afterwards made to resign and sent in banishment to Elba; how he had again reappeared in France and resumed power; how all the allied powers of Europe then determined upon his destruction; how he was defeated at the battle of Waterloo; how he afterwards surrendered himself into the hands of the English; and how, on the 17th of October, 1815, he was landed at St. Helena a prisoner of war.
All this they knew, and all this they set down as the natural results of a representative form of government and the liberty of the press, and hence it was that the first two articles of the treaty, from which we have heretofore quoted, were specially aimed against them; and a solemn pledge made, each to the other, that they must be destroyed. Of course, no mention was made in that treaty of the United States; for to have done so would have been virtually a declaration of war; but as it was then generally believed among the sovereigns and princes of Europe that the French Revolution of 1789 was a natural outgrowth from the American Revolution of 1776, and that Lafayette was at the bottom of it all—having imbibed the ideas from George Washington, John Adams, John Hancock, and other revolutionists of America,—the inference is plain and unmistakable that those two articles were aimed at the United States, and that the word "Europe"—where it reads they "engage mutually, in the most solemn manner, to use all their efforts to put an end to the system of representative governments in Europe"—was only meant as a blinder.
But, it may next be asked, allowing all this to be so, have they been doing anything since that time whereby to carry out any such intention?
To this inquiry, we answer yes, and will now proceed to show, briefly but unmistakably, how they have been carrying out such intentions; and this, too, comes legitimately under the head of "Secrets of the Late Rebellion, now Revealed for the First Time," since no one, to our knowledge, has ever heretofore shown the close relationship and unity of purpose between these same European governments and the Democratic party of the United States; and how, in the late rebellion (as in many instances before that time), they joined hands to destroy this government, and to break down the liberty of the press.
The first two political parties in the United States were known as Federal and Republican. In 1800, John Adams was the candidate of the Federalists for a second presidential term, and Thomas Jefferson the candidate of the Republicans. Jefferson was elected, and took his seat as President of the United States on the 4th of March, 1801. After a time, these two names gave way to Whig and Democratic. These continued until the name Republican took the place of Whig, in 1856-60. In its earlier days the Democratic party, as a party, was as pure and patriotic as any party that ever existed in this or any other country; but when the question of "Protection to Home Industry" (of which Henry Clay was the leading champion in his time) became a prime question in American politics; and when, because that this question involved the interests of European capitalists and manufacturers, Augustus Belmont, of New York city (a European by birth, a Jew, and the agent in this country of the Rothschilds', the great Jew banking-house of Europe, to whom almost every sovereign in Europe was indebted for loans), became the Chairman of the National Democratic Executive Committee—from that moment the Democratic party, as a party, became as completely in the interests of European sovereigns, capitalists, and manufacturers, as though every member of the party, as well as its head and front, had been born a European. We are not, of course, attempting to write a history of parties. To do so would require a volume of itself, and a large one at that. We have only made this running sketch that those not familiar with general history may readily see and understand the unmistakable historical relationship which exists, and which has existed for some forty years past, between the Democratic party, as a party, and European governments, European capitalists, and European manufacturers.
With this fact in mind, it is easy to understand why ninety out of every one hundred European emigrants who come to this country attach themselves to the Democratic party; easy to understand why the entire influence of the Roman Catholic Church (which is the church of nine-tenths of the sovereigns of Europe) should be thrown in favor of the Democratic party; easy to understand why more than ninety-five out of every one hundred Jews who come to this country from Europe attach themselves to the Democratic party; and easy to understand why, in the late rebellion, the Democratic party, as a party, cooperated with English lords, with English capitalists, and with English manufacturers (as shown in previous chapters of this volume), in trying to break down this government, and establish a slaveocracy in its stead—the leaders (not the masses) well knowing that this would soon give way to a yet more concentrated form of government in order to hold their slaves in subjection—neither a landed and family aristocracy, like that of England, or an absolute monarchy, like that of Austria, in either of which cases a representative or republican form of government and the liberty of the press would have been effectually and forever suppressed.
The answer, then, to the two questions, Why it lives? For what purpose it lives? are, to the first, Because of the additions made to the party from year to year from foreign emigration; and to the second the answer is, For the purpose of playing into the hands of European sovereigns, European capitalists, and European manufacturers, with a view to set aside a representative form of government, and destroy the liberty of the press in this country; and these answers we give, it will be observed, not from a political, but from a historical, stand-point—facts which cannot be controverted, and deductions from those facts as natural and as undeniable as that we know arsenic to be a poison, because it invariably kills when taken in certain doses. And that the Democratic party, as a party, is as deadly a poison as arsenic we know to be true, because it has killed its thousands and tens of thousands, than which we want no other or better proof than is furnished by the preceding chapters of this volume.