ART IN THE NATIONAL CAPITOL.

Some evenings ago, Sir, I attempted to secure an appropriation of $10,000 for worthy public servants in one of the Departments of the Government. In presenting that case, it was my duty to exhibit something of their necessities. I showed you how the money was needed by them to meet the expenses of living, which, as we all know, are constantly increasing, while the value of money is decreasing. I showed you also that they were entitled to this allowance by the service they had performed. After ample discussion, extended through several evenings, the Senate refused outright to appropriate $10,000 for distribution among public servants who, I insisted, had earned it by faithful labor. You acted on a sentiment of economy. It was urged, that, considering the numerous and heavy draughts upon the Treasury, we should not be justified in such allowance, and that, if it were made, then we should be obliged to make it in other cases, and there would be no end to the drain upon the Treasury. You all remember the fever of economy that broke out, and also the result. The proposition was voted down.

Now, Sir, a proposition is brought forward to appropriate that identical sum of $10,000 for a work of art. I speak of it in the most general way. If there were any assurance that the work in question could be worthy of so large a sum, if there were any reason to imagine that the favorite who is to be the beneficiary under this resolution were really competent to execute such a work, still, at this time and under the circumstances by which we are surrounded, I might well object to its passage, simply on reasons of economy. This argument is not out of place. I present, then, as my first objection, the consideration of economy. Do not, Sir, wastefully, inconsiderately, heedlessly give away so much. If you are in the mood of appropriation on this scale, select some of those public servants who have been discharging laborious duties on an inadequate compensation, and bestow it upon them. Be just before you are generous. Do this rather than become such sudden patrons of art. I hope that I do not treat the question too gravely. You treated the motion to augment compensation in the State Department very gravely. I but follow your example.

But, Sir, there is another aspect to which I allude, with your pardon. I enter upon it with great reluctance. I am unwilling to utter a word that would bear hard upon any one, least of all upon a youthful artist, where sex imposes reserve, if not on her part, at least on mine; but when a proposition like this is brought forward, I am bound to meet it frankly.

Each Senator will act on his own judgment and the evidence before him. Each will be responsible to his own conscience for the vote he gives. Now, Sir, with the little knowledge I have of such things, with the small opportunities I have enjoyed of observing works of art, and with the moderate acquaintance I have formed among artists, I am bound to express a confident opinion that this candidate is not competent to produce the work you propose to order. You might as well place her on the staff of General Grant, or, putting him aside, place her on horseback in his stead. She cannot do it. She might as well contract to furnish an epic poem, or the draft of a bankrupt bill. I am pained to be constrained into these remarks; but, when you press a vote, you leave me no alternative. Admit that she may make a statue; she cannot make one that you will be justified in placing here. Promise is not performance; but what she has done thus far comes under the former head rather than the latter. Surely this National Capitol, so beautiful and interesting, and already historic, should not be opened to the rude experiment of untried talent. Only the finished artist should be admitted here.

Sir, I doubt if you consider enough the character of the edifice in which we are assembled. Possessing the advantage of an incomparable situation, it is among the first-class structures of the world. Surrounded by an amphitheatre of hills, with the Potomac at its feet, it may remind you of the Capitol in Rome, with the Alban and the Sabine hills in sight, and with the Tiber at its feet. But the situation is grander than that of the Roman Capitol. The edifice itself is not unworthy of the situation. It has beauty of form and sublimity in proportion, even if it lacks originality in conception. In itself it is a work of art. It should not receive in the way of ornamentation anything which is not a work of art. Unhappily, this rule is too often forgotten, or there would not be so few pictures and marbles about us which we are glad to recognize. But bad pictures and ordinary marbles warn us against adding to their number.

Pardon me, if I call attention for one moment to the few works of art in the Capitol which we might care to preserve. Beginning with the Vice-President’s room, which is nearest, we find an excellent and finished portrait of Washington, by Peale. This is much less known than the familiar portrait by Stuart, but it is well worthy to be cherished. I never enter that room without feeling its presence. Traversing the corridors, we find ourselves in the spacious rotunda, where are four pictures by Trumbull, truly historic in character, by which great scenes live again before us. These works have a merit of their own which will always justify the place they occupy. Mr. Randolph, with ignorant levity, once characterized that which represents the signing of the Declaration of Independence as a “shin-piece.” He should have known that there is probably no picture, having so many portraits, less obnoxious to such a gibe. If these pictures do not belong to the highest art, they can never fail in interest for the patriot citizen, while the artist will not be indifferent to them. One other picture in the rotunda is not without merit: I refer to the Landing of the Pilgrims, by Weir, where there is a certain beauty of color and a religious sentiment: but this picture has always seemed to me exaggerated, rather than natural. Passing from the rotunda to the House of Representatives, we stand before a picture which, as a work of art, is perhaps the choicest of all in the Capitol. It is the portrait of Lafayette, by that consummate artist, who was one of the glories of France, Ary Scheffer. He sympathized with our institutions; and this portrait of the early friend of our country was a present from the artist to the people of the United States. Few who look at it, by the side of the Speaker’s chair, are aware that it is the production of the rare genius which gave to mankind the Christus Consolator and the Francesca da Rimini.

Turning from painting to sculpture, we find further reason for caution. The lesson is taught especially by that work of the Italian Persico, on the steps of the Capitol, called by him Columbus, but called by others “a man rolling nine-pins,”—for the attitude and the ball he holds suggest this game. Near to this is a remarkable group by Greenough, where the early settler is struggling with the savage; while opposite in the yard is the statue of Washington by the same artist, which has found little favor because it is nude, but which shows a mastery of art. There also are the works of Crawford,—the alto-rilievo which fills the pediment over the great door of the Senate Chamber, and the statue of Liberty which looks down from the top of the dome,—attesting a genius that must always command admiration. There are other statues, by a living artist. There are also the bronze doors by Rogers, on which he labored long and well. They belong to a class of which there are only a few specimens in the world, and I have sometimes thought they might vie with those famous doors at Florence, which Michel Angelo hailed as worthy to be the gates of Paradise. Our artist has pictured the whole life of Columbus in bronze, while portraits of contemporary princes, and of great authors who have illustrated the life of the great discoverer, add to the completeness of this artistic work.

Now, Sir, the chambers of the Capitol are to open again for the reception of a work of art. It is to be the statue of our martyred President. He deserves a statue, and it should be here in Washington. But you cannot expect to have, even of him, more than one statue here in Washington. Such a repetition or reduplication would be out of place. It would be too much. There is one statue of Washington. There is also a statue of Jefferson: I refer to the excellent statue in front of the Executive Mansion, by the French sculptor, David. There is also one statue of Jackson. It is now proposed to add a statue of Lincoln. I suppose you do not contemplate two statues, or three, but only one. Who now shall make that one, to find hospitality in the National Capitol? Surely, whoever undertakes the work must be of ripe genius, with ample knowledge of art, and of unquestioned capacity,—the whole informed and inspired by a prevailing sympathy with the martyr and the cause for which he lived and died. Are you satisfied that this youthful candidate, without ripeness of genius or ample knowledge of art or unquestioned capacity, and not so situated as to feel the full inspiration of his life and character, should receive this remarkable trust? She has never made a statue. Shall she experiment on the historic dead, and place her attempt under this dome? I am unwilling. When the statue of that beloved President is set up here, where we shall look upon it daily, and gather from it courage and consolation, I wish it to be a work of art in truth and reality, with living features animated by living soul, so that we shall all hail it as the man immortal by his life, doubly immortal through art. Anything short of this, even if through your indulgence it finds a transient resting-place here, will be removed whenever a correct taste asserts its just prerogative.

Therefore, Sir, for the sake of economy, that you may not heedlessly lavish the national treasure,—for the sake of this Capitol, itself a work of art, that it may not have anything in the way of ornamentation which is not a work of art,—for the sake of the martyred President, whose statue should be by a finished artist,—and for the sake of art throughout the whole country, that we may not set a pernicious example,—I ask you to reject this resolution. When I speak for art generally, I open a tempting theme; but I forbear. Suffice it to say that art throughout the whole country must suffer, if Congress crowns with its patronage anything which is not truly artistic. By such patronage you will discourage where you ought to encourage.

Mr. President, I make these remarks with sincere reluctance; I am distressed in making them; but such an appropriation, engineered so vigorously, and having in its support such a concerted strength, must be met plainly and directly. Do not condemn the frankness you compel. If you wish to bestow a charity or a gift, do it openly, without pretence of any patronage bestowed upon art, or pretence of homage to a deceased President. Bring forward your resolution appropriating $10,000 to this youthful candidate. This I can deal with. I can listen to your argument for charity, and I assure you that I shall never be insensible to it. But when you propose this large sum for a work of art in the National Capitol in memory of the illustrious dead, I am obliged to consider the character of the artist. I wish it were otherwise, but I cannot help it.

I think this amendment had better be adopted. It is only a reasonable precaution. The Senator from Wisconsin [Mr. Howe] alluded to a contract with Mr. Stone. He is a known sculptor, whose works are at the very doors of the Senate Chamber. The committee who employed him must have been perfectly aware of his character. When they entered into a contract with him, there was no element of chance; they knew what they were contracting for. But in the present case there is nothing but chance, if there be not the certainty of failure.

Mr. Sumner. I am speaking of the present case. One at a time, if you please. The person that you propose to contract with notoriously has never made a statue. All who have the most moderate acquaintance with art know that it is one thing to make a bust and quite another to make a statue. One may make a bust and yet be entirely unable to make a statue,—just as one may write a poem in the corner of a newspaper and not be able to produce an epic. A statue is art in one of its highest forms. There have been very few artists competent to make a statue. There is as yet but one instance that I recall of a woman reasonably successful in such an undertaking. But the eminent and precocious person to whom I refer had shown a peculiar genius very early in life, had enjoyed the rarest opportunities of culture, and had vindicated her title as artist before she attempted this difficult task. Conversing, as I sometimes have, with sculptors, I remember how they always dwell upon the difficulty of such a work. It is no small labor to set a man on his legs, with proper drapery and accessories, in stone or in bronze. Not many have been able to do it, and all these had already experience in art. Now there is no such experience here. Notoriously this candidate is without it. There is no reason to suppose that she can succeed. Therefore the Senator from Vermont [Mr. Edmunds] is wise, when he proposes, that, before the nation pays $5,000 on account, it shall have some assurance that the work is not absolutely a failure. Voltaire was in the habit of exclaiming, in coarse Italian words, that “a woman cannot produce a tragedy.” In the face of what has been accomplished by Miss Hosmer, I do not venture on the remark that a woman cannot produce a statue; but I am sure that in the present case you ought to take every reasonable precaution. Anything for this Capitol must be “above suspicion.”

Sir, I did not intend, when I rose, to say anything except directly upon the motion of the Senator from Vermont; but, as I am on the floor, perhaps I may be pardoned, if I advert for one moment——

Mr. Sumner. Obviously; for the chief work of the artist is in the model. When this is done, the work is more than half done,—almost all done. What remains requires mechanical skill rather than genius. In Italy, where are accomplished workmen in marble, the artist leaves his model in their hands, contenting himself with a few finishing strokes of the chisel. Sometimes he does not touch the marble.

I was about to say, when interrupted, that I hoped to be pardoned, if I adverted for one moment to the onslaught made upon what I have said in this debate. I do not understand it. I do not know why Senators have given such rein to the passion for personality. I made no criticism on any Senator, and no allusion, even, to any Senator. I addressed myself directly to the question, and endeavored to treat it with all the reserve consistent with proper frankness. Senators, one after another, have attacked me personally. The Senator from Oregon [Mr. Nesmith] seemed to riot in the business. The Senator from California [Mr. Conness], from whom I had reason to expect something better, caught the spirit of the other Pacific Senator. Sir, there was nothing in what I said to justify such attack. But I will not proceed in the comments their speeches invite; I turn away. There was, however, one remark of the Senator from Oregon to which I will refer. He complained that I was unwilling to patronize native art, and that I dwelt on the productions of foreign artists to the disparagement of our own.

I am at a loss for the motive of this singular misrepresentation. Let the Senator quote a sentence or word which fell from me in disparagement of native art. He cannot. I know the art of my country too well, and think of it with too much of patriotic pride. I alluded to only one foreign artist, and he was that sympathetic and gifted Frenchman who has endowed the Capitol with the portrait of Lafayette. The other artists that I praised were all of my own country. There was Rembrandt Peale, of Philadelphia, to whom we are indebted for the portrait of Washington. There was Trumbull, the companion of Washington, and one of his military staff, who, quitting the toils of war, gave himself to painting, under the inspiration of West, himself an American, and produced works which I pronounced the chief treasure of the rotunda. There also was Greenough, the earliest American sculptor, and, until Story took the chisel, unquestionably the most accomplished of all in the list of American sculptors. He was a scholar, versed in the languages of antiquity and modern times, who studied the art he practised in the literature of every tongue. Of him I never fail to speak in praise. There also was Crawford, an American sculptor, born in New York, and my own intimate personal friend, whose early triumphs I witnessed and enjoyed. He was a true genius, versatile, fertile, bold. His short life was crowned by the honors of his profession, and he was hailed at home and abroad as a great sculptor. How can I speak of this friend of my early life except with admiration and love? I alluded also to Rogers, an American artist, from the West,—yes, Sir, from the West——

Mr. Sumner. Educated in Michigan,—who has given to his country and to art those bronze doors, which I did not hesitate to compare with the immortal doors of Ghiberti in the Baptistery of Florence. These, Sir, were the artists to whom I referred, and such was the spirit in which I spoke. How, then, can any Senator complain that I praised foreign artists at the expense of artists at home? The remark, permit me to say, is absolutely without foundation.

It is because I would not have the art of my own country suffer, and because I would have its honors follow merit, that I oppose the largess you offer. If you really wish to set up a statue of our martyred President, select an acknowledged sculptor of your own country. Do not go to a foreigner, and do not go to the unknown. There are sculptors born among us and already famous. Take one of them. There is Powers, an artist of rarest skill with the chisel, of exquisite finish,—perhaps with less variety and freshness than some other artists, perhaps with less originality, but having in himself many and peculiar characteristics as a remarkable artist. Summon him. He has been tried. Contracting with him, you know in advance that you will have a statue not entirely unworthy of the appropriation or of the place.

There is another sculptor of our country, whom I should name first of all, if I were to express freely my unbiased choice: I mean Story. He is the son of the great jurist, and began life with his father’s mantle resting upon him. His works of jurisprudence are quoted daily in your courts. He is also a man of letters. His contributions to literature in prose and verse are in your libraries. To these he adds unquestioned fame as sculptor. In the great exhibitions of Europe his Cleopatra and his Saul have been recognized as equal in art to the best of our time, and in the opinion of many as better than the best. He brings to sculpture not only the genius of an artist, but scholarship, literature, study, and talent of every kind. Take him. Let his name be associated with the Capitol by a statue which I am sure will be the source of national pride and honor.

I might mention other sculptors of our country already known, and others giving assurance of fame. My friend who sits beside me, the distinguished Senator from New York [Mr. Morgan], very properly reminds me of the sculptor who does so much honor to his own State. Palmer has a beautiful genius, which he has cultivated for many years with sedulous care. He has experience. The seal of success is upon his works. Let him make your statue. There is still another artist, whose home is New York, whom I would not forget: I refer to Brown, author of the equestrian statue of Washington in New York. Of all equestrian statues in our country this is the best, unless Crawford’s statue at Richmond is its rival. It need not shrink from comparison with equestrian statues in the Old World. The talent that could seat the great chief so easily in that bronze saddle ought to find welcome in this Capitol. There are yet other sculptors; but I confine my enumeration to those who have done something more than promise excellence. And now you turn from this native talent, already famous, to offer a difficult and honorable duty to an untried person, whose friends can claim for her nothing more than the uncertain promise of such excellence in sculpture as is consistent with the condition of her sex. Sir, I will not say anything more.

THE ONE MAN POWER vs. CONGRESS.
THE PRESENT SITUATION.

ADDRESS.

MR. PRESIDENT,—More than a year has passed since I last had the honor of addressing my fellow-citizens of Massachusetts. I then dwelt on what seemed the proper policy towards the States recently in rebellion,—insisting that it was our duty, while renouncing Indemnity for the past, to obtain at least Security for the future; and this security, I maintained, could be found only in exclusion of ex-Rebels from political power, and in irreversible guaranties especially applicable to the national creditor and the national freedman.[59] During intervening months, the country has been agitated by this question, which was perplexed by unexpected difference between the President and Congress. The President insists upon installing ex-Rebels in political power, and sets at nought the claim of guaranties and the idea of security for the future, while he denies to Congress any control over the question, taking it all to himself. Congress asserts control, and endeavors to exclude ex-Rebels from political power and establish guaranties, to the end that there may be security for the future. Meanwhile the States recently in rebellion, with the exception of Tennessee, are without representation. Thus stands the case.

The two parties are the President, on the one side, and the people of the United States in Congress assembled, on the other side,—the first representing the Executive, the second representing the Legislative. It is The One Man Power vs. Congress. Of course, each performs its part in the government; but until now it has always been supposed that the legislative gave law to the executive, and not that the executive gave law to the legislative. This irrational assumption becomes more astonishing, when it is considered that the actual President, besides being the creature of circumstance, is inferior in ability and character, while the House of Representatives is eminent in both respects. A President who has already sunk below any other President, even James Buchanan, madly undertakes to rule a House of Representatives which there is reason to believe is the best that has sat since the formation of the Constitution. Looking at the two parties, we are tempted to exclaim, Such a President dictating to such a Congress! It was said of Gustavus Adolphus, that he drilled the Diet of Sweden to vote or be silent at the word of command; but Andrew Johnson is not Gustavus Adolphus, and the American Congress is not the Diet of Sweden.

The question at issue is one of the vastest ever presented for practical decision, involving the name and weal of the Republic at home and abroad. It is not a military question; it is a question of statesmanship. We are to secure by counsel what was won by war. Failure now will make the war itself a failure; surrender now will undo all our victories. Let the President prevail, and straightway the plighted faith of the Republic will be broken,—the national creditor and the national freedman will be sacrificed,—the Rebellion itself will flaunt its insulting power,—the whole country, in length and breadth, will be disturbed,—and the Rebel region will be handed over to misrule and anarchy. Let Congress prevail, and all this will be reversed: the plighted faith of the Republic will be preserved; the national creditor and the national freedman will be protected; the Rebellion itself will be trampled out forever; the whole country, in length and breadth, will be at peace; and the Rebel region, no longer harassed by controversy and degraded by injustice, will enjoy the richest fruits of security and reconciliation. To labor for this cause may well tempt the young and rejoice the old.

And now, to-day, I again protest against any present admission of ex-Rebels to the great partnership of this Republic, and I renew the claim of irreversible guaranties, especially applicable to the national creditor and the national freedman,—insisting now, as I did a year ago, that it is our duty, while renouncing Indemnity for the past, to obtain at least Security for the future. At the close of a terrible war, wasting our treasure, murdering our fellow-citizens, filling the land with funerals, maiming and wounding multitudes whom Death had spared, and breaking up the very foundations of peace, our first duty is to provide safeguards for the future. This can be only by provisions, sure, fundamental, and irrepealable, fixing forever the results of the war, the obligations of the Government, and the equal rights of all. Such is the suggestion of common prudence and of self-defence, as well as of common honesty. To this end we must make haste slowly. States which precipitated themselves out of Congress must not be permitted to precipitate themselves back. They must not enter the Halls they treasonably deserted, until we have every reasonable assurance of future good conduct. We must not admit them, and then repent our folly. The verses in which the satirist renders the quaint conceit of the old Parliamentary orator, verses revived by Mr. Webster, and on another occasion used by myself, furnish the key to our duty:—

I am against letting the monster in, until he is no longer terrible in mouth or paw.

But, while holding this ground of prudence, I desire to disclaim every sentiment of vengeance or punishment, and also every thought of delay or procrastination. Here I do not yield to the President, or to any other person. Nobody more anxious than I to see this chasm closed forever.

There is a long way and a short way. There is a long time and a short time. If there be any whose policy is for the longest way or for the longest time, I am not of the number. I am for the shortest way, and also for the shortest time. And I object to the interference of the President, because, whether intentionally or unintentionally, he interposes delay and keeps the chasm open. More than all others, the President, by officious assumptions, has lengthened the way and lengthened the time. Of this there can be no doubt.

From all quarters we learn that after the surrender of Lee the Rebels were ready for any terms, if they could escape with life. They were vanquished, and they knew it. The Rebellion was crushed, and they knew it. They hardly expected to save a small fraction of property. They did not expect to save political power. They were too sensible not to see that participants in rebellion could not pass at once into the copartnership of government. They made up their minds to exclusion. They were submissive. There was nothing they would not do, even to the extent of enfranchising the freedmen and providing for them homesteads. Had the National Government taken advantage of this plastic condition, it might have stamped Equal Rights upon the whole people, as upon molten wax, while it fixed the immutable conditions of permanent peace. The question of Reconstruction would have been settled before it arose. It is sad to think that this was not done. Perhaps in all history there is no instance of such an opportunity lost. Truly should our country say in penitential supplication, “We have left undone those things which we ought to have done, and we have done those things which we ought not to have done.”

Do not take this on my authority. Listen to those on the spot, who have seen with their own eyes. A brave officer of our army writes from Alabama:—

In the same vein another officer testifies from Texas:—

This testimony might be multiplied indefinitely. From city and country, from highway and by-way, there is but one voice. When, therefore, the President, in opprobrious terms, complains of Congress as interposing delay, I reply to him: “No, Sir, it is you, who, by unexpected and most perverse assumption, have put off the glad day of security and reconciliation, so much longed for. It is you who have inaugurated anew that malignant sectionalism, which, so long as it exists, will keep the Union divided in fact, if not in name. Sir, you are the Disunionist.”

Glance, if you please, at that Presidential policy—so constantly called “my policy”—now so vehemently pressed upon the country, and you will find that it pivots on at least two alarming blunders, as can be easily seen: first, in setting up the One Man Power as the source of jurisdiction over this great question; and, secondly, in using the One Man Power for the restoration of Rebels to place and influence, so that good Unionists, whether white or black, are rejected, and the Rebellion itself is revived in the new governments. Each of these assumptions is an enormous blunder. You see that I use a mild term to characterize such a double-headed usurpation.

Pray, Sir, where in the Constitution do you find any sanction of the One Man Power as source of this extraordinary jurisdiction? I had always supposed that the President was the Executive,—bound to see the laws faithfully executed, but not empowered to make laws. The Constitution expressly says: “The Executive power shall be vested in a President of the United States of America.” But the Legislative power is elsewhere. According to the Constitution, “All Legislative powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States, which shall consist of a Senate and House of Representatives.” And yet the President has assumed legislative power, even to the extent of making laws and constitutions for States. You all know, that, at the close of the war, when the Rebel States were without lawful governments, he assumed to supply them. In this business of Reconstruction he assumed to determine who should vote, and also to affix conditions for adoption by the conventions. Look, if you please, at the character of this assumption. The President, from the Executive Mansion at Washington, reaches his long executive arm into certain States and dictates constitutions. Surely here is nothing executive; it is not even military. It is legislative, pure and simple, and nothing else. It is an attempt by the One Man Power to do what can be done only by the legislative branch of Government. And yet the President, perversely absorbing to himself all power over the reconstruction of the Rebel States, insists that Congress must accept his work without addition or subtraction. He can impose conditions: Congress cannot. He can determine who shall vote: Congress cannot. His jurisdiction is not only complete, but exclusive. If all this be so, then has our President a most extraordinary power, never before dreamed of. He may exclaim, with Louis the Fourteenth, “The State, it is I,” while, like this magnificent king, he sacrifices the innocent, and repeats that fatal crime, the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. His whole “policy” is “revocation” of all that has been promised and all we have a right to expect.

Here it is well to note a distinction, not without importance in the issue between the President and Congress. Nobody doubts that the President may, during war, govern any conquered territory as commander-in-chief, and for this purpose detail any military officer as military governor. But it is one thing to govern a State temporarily by military power, and quite another thing to create a constitution for a State which shall continue when the military power has expired. The former is a military act, and belongs to the President; the latter is a civil act, and belongs to Congress. On this distinction I stand; and this is not the first time that I have asserted it. Of course, governments set up in this illegitimate way are necessarily illegitimate, except so far as they acquire validity from time or subsequent recognition. It needs no learned Chief Justice of North Carolina solemnly to declare this. It is manifest from the nature of the case.

But this illegitimacy becomes still more manifest, when it is known that the constitutions which the President orders and tries to cram upon Congress have never been submitted to popular vote. Each is the naked offspring of an illegitimate convention called into being by the President, in the exercise of illegitimate power.

There is another provision of the Constitution, by which, according to a judgment of the Supreme Court of the United States, this question is referred to Congress, and not to the President. I refer to the provision that “the United States shall guaranty to every State in this Union a republican form of government.” On these words Chief Justice Taney, speaking for the Supreme Court, has adjudged, that “it rests with Congress to decide what government is the established one in a State; for, as the United States guaranty to each State a republican government, Congress must necessarily decide what government is established in the State, before it can determine whether it is republican or not”; and that “unquestionably a military government established as the permanent government of the State would not be a republican government, and it would be the duty of Congress to overthrow it.”[61] But the President sets at nought this commanding text, reinforced by the positive judgment of the Supreme Court, and claims this extraordinary power for himself, to the exclusion of Congress. He is “the United States.” In him the Republic is manifest. He can do all; Congress nothing.

And now the whole country is summoned by the President to recognize State governments created by constitutions thus illegitimate in origin and character. Without considering if they contain the proper elements of security for the future, or if they are republican in form, and without any inquiry into the validity of their adoption,—nay, in the very face of testimony showing that they contain no elements of security for the future, that they are not republican in form, and that they have never been adopted by the loyal people,—we are commanded to accept them; and when we hesitate, the President, himself leading the outcry, assails us with angry vituperation, blunted, it must be confessed, by coarseness without precedent and without bound. It is well that such a cause has such an advocate.

Thus setting up the One Man Power as a source of jurisdiction, the President has committed a blunder of Constitutional Law, proceeding from an immense egotism, in which the little pronoun “I” plays a gigantic part. It is “I” vs. The People of the United States in Congress assembled. On this unnatural blunder I might say more; but I have said enough. My present purpose is accomplished, if I make you see it clearly.

The other blunder is of a different character. It is giving present power to ex-Rebels, at the expense of constant Unionists, white or black, and employing them in the work of Reconstruction, so that the new governments continue to represent the Rebellion. This same blunder, when committed by one of the heroes of the war, was promptly overruled by the President himself; but Andrew Johnson now does what Sherman was not allowed to do. The blunder is strange and unaccountable.

Here the evidence is constant and cumulative. It begins with his proclamation for the reconstruction of North Carolina. Holden was appointed Provisional Governor,—an officer unknown to law, and for whom there was no provision,—although it was notorious that he had been a member of the Convention which adopted the Act of Secession, and that he signed it. Then came Perry, Provisional Governor of South Carolina, who, besides holding a judicial station under the Rebel Government, was one of its Commissioners of Impressments. I have a Rebel newspaper containing one of his advertisements in the latter character. There also was Parsons, Provisional Governor of Alabama, who in 1863 introduced into the Legislature of that State formal resolutions tendering to Jefferson Davis “hearty thanks for his good labors in the cause of our common country, together with the assurance of continued support,”—and afterwards, in 1864, denounced our national debt, exclaiming in the Legislature: “Does any sane man suppose we will consent to pay their [the United States] war debt, contracted in sending armies and navies to burn our towns and cities, to lay waste our country,—whose soldiers have robbed and murdered our peaceful inhabitants?” Such were the agents appointed by the President to institute loyal governments. But this selection becomes more strange and unaccountable, when it is considered that all this was done in defiance of law.

There is a recent enactment of Congress requiring that no person shall be appointed to any office of the United States, unless such office has been created by law.[62] And there is another enactment of Congress, providing that all officers, civil or military, before entering upon their official duties or receiving any salary or compensation, shall take an oath declaring that they have held no office under the Rebellion or given any aid thereto.[63] In face of these enactments, which are sufficiently explicit, the President began his work of Reconstruction by appointing civilians to an office absolutely unknown to law, when besides they could not take the required oath of office; and to complete the disregard of Congress, he fixed their salary, and paid it out of the funds of the War Department.

Of course such proceeding was an instant encouragement and license to all ex-Rebels, no matter how much blood was on their hands. Rebellion was at a premium. It was easy to see, that, if these men were good enough to be governors of States, in defiance of Congress, all others in the same political predicament would be good enough for inferior offices. And it was so. From top to bottom these States were organized by men who had been warring on their country. Ex-Rebels were appointed by the governors or chosen by the people everywhere. Ex-Rebels sat in Conventions and in Legislatures. Ex-Rebels became judges, justices of the peace, sheriffs, and everything else,—while the faithful Unionist, white or black, was rejected. As with Cordelia, his love was “according to his bond, nor more nor less”; but all this was of no avail. How often during the war have I pleaded for such patriots, and urged to every effort for their redemption!—and now, when our arms have prevailed, it is they who are cast down, while the enemies of the Republic are exalted. The pirate Semmes returns from his ocean cruise to be chosen Probate Judge,—leaping from the deck of the Ship Alabama to the judicial bench of the State Alabama. In New Orleans the Rebel mayor at the surrender to the national flag is once more mayor, and employs his regained power in the terrible massacre which rises in judgment against the Presidential policy. Persons are returned to Congress whose service in the Rebellion makes it impossible for them to take the oath of office,—as in the case of Georgia, which selects as Senators Herschel V. Johnson, a Senator of the Rebel Congress, and Alexander H. Stephens, Vice-President of the Rebellion. These are instances; but from these learn all.

There is nothing within reach of the President which he has not lavished on ex-Rebels. The power of pardon and amnesty, like the power of appointment, has been used for them, wholesale and retail. It would have been easy to affix a condition to every pardon, requiring, that, before it took effect, the recipient should carve out of his estate a homestead for every one of his freedmen, and thus secure to each what they all covet so much, a piece of land. But the President did no such thing, although, in the words of the old writ, “often requested so to do.” Such a condition would have helped the loyal freedmen, rather than the rebel master. In the same spirit, while undertaking to determine who shall be voters, all colored persons, howsoever loyal, were disfranchised, while all white persons, except certain specified classes, although black with rebellion, were constituted voters on taking a simple oath of allegiance, thus investing ex-Rebels with a prevailing power.

Partisans of the Presidential “policy” are in the habit of declaring it a continuation of the policy of the martyred Lincoln. This is a mistake. Would that he could rise from his bloody shroud to repel the calumny! Happily, he has left his testimony behind, in words which all who have ears to hear can hear. The martyr presented the truth bodily, when he said, in suggestive metaphor, that we must “build up from the sound materials”; but his successor insists upon building from materials rotten with treason and gaping with rebellion. On another occasion, the martyr said that “an attempt to guaranty and protect a revived State government, constructed in whole or in preponderating part from the very element against whose hostility and violence it is to be protected, is simply absurd.”[64] But this is the very thing the President is now attempting. He is constructing State governments, not merely in preponderating part, but in whole, from the hostile element. Therefore he departs openly from the policy of the martyred Lincoln.

The martyr says to his successor that the policy adopted is “simply absurd.” He is right, although he might say more. Its absurdity is too apparent. It is as if, in abolishing the Inquisition, the inquisitors had been continued under another name, and Torquemada had received a fresh license for cruelty. It is as if King William, after the overthrow of James the Second, had made the infamous Jeffreys Lord Chancellor. Common sense and common justice cry out against the outrage; and yet this is the Presidential “policy” now so passionately commended to the American people.

A state, according to Aristotle, is a “copartnership,” and I accept the term as especially applicable to our government. And now the President, in the exercise of the One Man Power, decrees that communities lately in rebellion shall be taken at once into our “copartnership.” I object to the decree as dangerous to the Republic. I am not against pardon, clemency, or magnanimity, except where they are at the expense of good men. I trust that they will always be practised; but I insist that recent rebels shall not be admitted, without proper precautions, to the business of the firm. And I insist also that the One Man Power shall not be employed to force them into the firm.

Such are two pivotal blunders. It is not easy to see how he has fallen into these, so strong were his early professions the other way. The powers of Congress he had distinctly admitted. Thus, as early as 24th July, 1865, he had sent to Sharkey, acting by his appointment as Provisional Governor of Mississippi, this despatch: “It must, however, be distinctly understood that the restoration to which your proclamation refers will be subject to the will of Congress.” Nothing could be more positive. And he was equally positive against the restoration of Rebels to power. You do not forget, that, in accepting his nomination as Vice-President, he rushed forward to declare that the Rebel States must be remodelled, that confiscation must be enforced, and that Rebels must be excluded from the work of Reconstruction. His language was plain and unmistakable. Announcing that “government must be fixed on the principles of eternal justice,” he declared, that, “if the man who gave his influence and his means to destroy the Government should be permitted to participate in the great work of reorganization, then all the precious blood so freely poured out will have been wantonly spilled, and all our victories go for nought.” True, very true. Then, in words of surpassing energy, he cried out, that “the great plantations must be seized and divided into small farms,” and that “traitors should take a back seat in the work of restoration.” Perhaps the true rule was never expressed with more homely and vital force than in this last saying, often repeated in different forms, “For Rebels, back seats.” Add that other saying, as often repeated, “Treason must be made odious,” and you have two great principles of just reconstruction, once proclaimed by the President, but now practically disowned by him.

You will ask how the President fell. This is hard to say, certainly, without much plainness of speech. Mr. Seward openly confesses that he counselled the present fatal “policy.” Unquestionably the Blairs, father and son, did the same. So also, I doubt not, did Mr. Preston King. It is easy to see that Mr. Seward was not a wise counsellor. This is not his first costly blunder. In formal despatches he early announced that “the rights of the States, and the condition of every human being in them, will remain subject to exactly the same laws and forms of administration, whether the revolution shall succeed or whether it shall fail.”[65] And now he labors for the fulfilment of his own prophecy. Obviously, from the beginning, he has failed to comprehend the Rebellion, while in nature he is abnormal and eccentric, jumping like the knight on the chess-board, rather than moving on straight lines. Undoubtedly the influence of such a man over the President has not been good. But the President himself is his own worst counsellor, as he is his own worst defender. He does not open his mouth without furnishing evidence against himself.

The brave words with which he accepted his nomination as Vice-President resounded through the country. He was elected. Then followed two scenes, each of which filled the people with despair. The first was of the new Vice-President taking the oath of office—in the presence of the foreign ministers, the judges of the Supreme Court, and the Senate—while in such a condition that his attempted speech became trivial and incoherent, and he did not know the name of the Secretary of the Navy, who is now the devoted supporter of his policy, as he has been his recent travelling companion. One month and one week thereafter President Lincoln was assassinated. The people, wrapt in affliction at the great tragedy, trembled as they beheld a drunken man ascend the heights of power. But they were generous and forgiving,—almost forgetful. He was our President, and hands were outstretched to welcome and sustain him. His early utterances as President, although commonplace, loose, and wordy, gave assurance that the Rebellion and its authors would find little favor. Treason was to be made odious.

At this time my own personal relations with him commenced. I had known him slightly while he was in the Senate; but I lost no time in seeing him after he became President. He received me kindly. I hope that I shall not err, if I allude briefly to what passed between us. You are my constituents, and I wish you to know the Presidential mood at that time, and also what your representative attempted.

Being in Washington during the first month of the new Administration, destined to fill such an unhappy place in history, I saw the President frequently, at the private house he then occupied, or at his office in the Treasury. He had not yet taken possession of the Executive Mansion. The constant topic was “Reconstruction,” which was considered in every variety of aspect. More than once I ventured to press the duty and renown of carrying out the principles of the Declaration of Independence, and of founding the new governments on the consent of the governed, without distinction of color. To this earnest appeal he replied, as I sat with him alone, in words which I can never forget: “On this question, Mr. Sumner, there is no difference between us; you and I are alike.” Need I say that I was touched to the heart by this annunciation, which seemed to promise a victory without a battle? Accustomed to controversy, I saw clearly, that, if the President declared himself for the Equal Rights of All, the good cause must prevail without controversy. Expressing to him my joy and gratitude, I remarked that there should be no division in the great Union party,—that no line should be run through it, on one side of which would be gentlemen calling themselves “the President’s friends,” but we should be kept all together as one seamless garment. To this he promptly replied, “I mean to keep you all together.” Nothing could be better. We were to be kept all together on the principle of Equal Rights. As I walked away, that evening, the battle of my life seemed ended, while the Republic rose before me, refulgent in the blaze of assured freedom, an example to the nations.

On another occasion, during the same period, the case of Tennessee was discussed. I expressed the earnest hope that the President would use his influence directly for the establishment of impartial suffrage in that State, saying that in this way Tennessee would be put at the head of the returning column and be made an example,—in one word, that all the other States would be obliged to dress on Tennessee. The President replied, that, if he were at Nashville, he would see this accomplished. I could not help rejoining, that he need not be at Nashville, for at Washington his hand was on the long end of the lever with which he could easily move all Tennessee,—referring, of course, to the powerful, but legitimate, influence the President might exercise in his own State by the expression of his desires. Let me confess that his hesitation disturbed me; but I attributed it to unnecessary caution, rather than to infidelity. He had been so positive with me, how could I suspect him?

At other times the conversation was renewed. Such was my interest in the question, that I could not see the President without introducing it. As I was about to return home, I said that I desired, even at the risk of repetition, to make some parting suggestions on the constant topic, and that, with his permission, I would proceed point by point, as was the habit of the pulpit in former days. He smiled, and observed pleasantly, “Have I not always listened to you?” I replied, “You have; and I am grateful.” After remarking that the Rebel region was still in military occupation, and that it was the plain duty of the President to use his temporary power for the establishment of correct principles, I proceeded to say: “First, see to it that no newspaper is allowed which is not thoroughly loyal, and does not speak well of the National Government and of Equal Rights”; and here I reminded him of the saying of the Duke of Wellington, that in a place under martial law an unlicensed press is as impossible as on the deck of a ship of war. “Secondly, let the officers that you send, as military governors or otherwise, be known for devotion to Equal Rights, so that their names alone will be a proclamation, while their simple presence will help educate the people”; and here I mentioned Major-General Carl Schurz, who still held his commission in the army, as such a person. “Thirdly, encourage the population to resume the profitable labors of agriculture, commerce, and manufactures without delay,—but for the present to avoid politics. Fourthly, keep the whole region under these good influences, and at the proper moment hand over the subject of Reconstruction, with the great question of Equal Rights, to the judgment of Congress, where it belongs.” All this the President received with perfect kindness, and I mention this with the more readiness because I remember to have seen in the papers a very different statement.

Only a short time afterwards there was a change, which seemed like a somersault or an apostasy; and then ensued a strange sight. Instead of faithful Unionists, recent Rebels thronged the Presidential antechambers, rejoicing in new-found favor. They made speeches at the President, and he made speeches at them. A mutual sympathy was manifest. On one occasion the President announced himself a “Southern man” with “Southern sympathies,” thus quickening that sectional flame which good men hoped to see quenched forever. Alas! if, after all our terrible sacrifices, we are still to have a President who does not know how to spurn every sectional appeal and make himself representative of all! Unhappily, whatever the President said or did was sectional. He showed himself constantly a sectionalist. Instead of telling the ex-Rebels who thronged the Presidential antechambers, as he should have done, that he was their friend, that he wished them well from the bottom of his heart, that he longed to see their fields yield an increase, with peace in all their borders, and that, to this end, he counselled them to pursue agriculture, commerce, and manufactures, and for the present to say nothing about politics,—instead of this, he sent them away talking and thinking of nothing but politics, and frantic for the reëstablishment of a sectional power. Instead of designating officers of the army as military governors, which I had supposed he would do, he appointed ex-Rebels, who could not take the oath required by Congress of all officers of the United States, and they in turn appointed ex-Rebels to office under them; so that participation in the Rebellion found reward, and treason, instead of being made odious, became the passport to power. Everywhere ex-Rebels came out of hiding-places. They walked the streets defiantly, and asserted their old domination. Under auspices of the President, a new campaign was planned against the Republic, and they who failed in open war now sought to enter the very citadel of political power. Victory, purchased by so much loyal blood and treasure, was little better than a cipher. Slavery itself revived in the spirit of Caste. Faithful men who had been trampled down by the Rebellion were trampled down still more by these Presidential governments. For the Unionist there was no liberty of the press or liberty of speech, and the lawlessness of Slavery began to rage anew.

Every day brought tidings that the Rebellion was reappearing in its essential essence. Amidst all professions of submission, there was immitigable hate to the National Government, and prevailing injustice to the freedman. This was last autumn. I was then in Boston. Moved by desire to arrest this fatal tendency, I appealed by letter to members of the Cabinet, entreating them to stand firm against a “policy” which promised nothing but disaster. As soon as the elections were over, I appealed directly to the President himself, by a telegraphic despatch, as follows:—