With the words of Holt’s denunciation still fresh in their remembrance, the citizens of Washington loaded the desk of the retributive Senator with flowers; and, when he advanced, amidst so many colleagues who had condemned him as judges, to take the oath of office, and again when, a few days later, his voice, which had before been heard pleading for the imperiled Union, was from the same place once more heard pleading for the imperiled Constitution, the crowded galleries and corridors gave him a conquering hero’s welcome.
When in the following summer he died, his body was followed to its grave in the mountains by what it is hardly an exaggeration to call the whole people of his State. When Congress reassembled, the Senate and the House clothed themselves with crape. One of his former judges, who had voted him guilty of high crimes and misdemeanors (Morton, of Indiana), thus spoke of him in the Senate:
“In every position in life he showed himself to be a man of ability and courage, and I believe it proper to say of Andrew Johnson that his honesty has never been suspected; that the smell of corruption was never upon his garments.”
The same Senator related that when Johnson, as the newly appointed Military Governor, arrived at Nashville “he was threatened with assassination on the streets and in the public assemblies, but he went on the streets; he defied those dangers; he went into public assemblies, and on one occasion went into a public meeting, drew his pistol, laid it on the desk before him, and said: ‘I have been told that I should be assassinated if I came here. If that is to be done then it is the first business in order, and let that be attended to.’ No attempt having been made he said: ‘I conclude the danger has passed by;’ and then proceeded to make his speech.”
Again the Senator said: “After I had voted for his impeachment, and met him accidentally, he wore the same kindly smile as before, and offered me his hand. I thought that showed nobility of soul. There were not many men who could have done that.”
The man, of whom two such incidents could be truthfully related, could never have invented so foul a charge against an innocent subordinate.
A Senator from a neighboring State, (McCreery), on the same mournful occasion said of him:
“When he went to Greeneville he was a stranger, and a tailor’s “kit,” his thimbles and his needles, were probably the sum-total of his earthly possessions; at his death, the hills and the valleys and the mountains and the rivers, sent forth their thousands to testify to the general grief at the irreparable loss.
“I honor him for that manly courage which sustained him on every occasion, and which never quailed in presence of opposition, no matter how imposing. I honor him for that independence of soul which had no scorn for the lowly, and no cringing adulation for the exalted. I honor him for that sterling integrity which was beyond the reach of temptation, and which, at the close of his public service, left no blot, no stain upon his escutcheon. I honor him for that magnanimity which after the war cloud had passed, and the elements had settled, would have brought every citizen under the radiant arch of the bow of peace and pardon.”
Another Senator (Paddock, of Nebraska) gave utterance to the following unchallenged statement: