“I believe, sir, notwithstanding the fact that a painful chapter relating to the official acts of Andrew Johnson was made in this very chamber, that no Senator here present will refuse to-day to join me in the declaration that he was essentially an honest man; aye, sir, a patriot in the fullest sense of the term.”
Yet another (Bogy, of Missouri), said:
“His last election to a seat on this floor as Senator was the work of his own hands, brought about by his own indomitable will and pluck, the reward of a long and terrible contest, continuing for seven years, unsuccessful for a time, and appearing to all the world besides himself as utterly hopeless; nevertheless, finally he was triumphant. From what I have learned from those who are familiar with this, his last contest, he exhibited more openly his true and peculiar nature, than at any other period of his life—which was to fight with all his might and all his ability, asking no quarter and granting none; and although like bloody Richard now and then unhorsed, still to fight and never surrender, until victory perched upon his banner.”
Senator Bayard said: “Friend or foe alike must admit his steady, unshaken love of country; his constant industry; his simple integrity and honesty; his courage of conviction, that never faltered.”
Truly, the solemn word of a man, of whom such things can be said, is no light thing,—to be thrust aside by windy abuse or vociferous denial.
Now, what conceivable motive had such a man, seated in the chair of the Chief Magistracy of this republic, surrounded by Cabinet officers who had been the advisers of his predecessor, to invent, in the first place, so horrible a story as that a friendly subordinate officer had deliberately, in a case of life and death, suppressed so vital a document? For it is contradictory of historical fact, that he never openly made the charge until the year 1873.
This may be true of the period from about the time of the execution up to the disclosures of the John H. Surratt trial in 1867. But our review of the incidents of that trial, which General Holt in his refutation seemed to have totally forgotten, proves, beyond the possibility of controversy, that the President then first thought himself driven to inspect the record to ascertain the existence of such a paper, and then first, after the discovery that there was in fact a recommendation, at once, and at all times afterwards, openly asserted that he had not seen it or read it. Every one around him knew that he so said. Stanton, his great enemy, Seward, his great friend, knew it. Bingham, at the very beginning when Stanton forbade him to refute it; Bingham, when Butler pierced his shield in the House of Representatives, and Bingham, when at the bar of the Senate as manager of the impeachment he belabored his old-time Commander-in-Chief, knew it; Holt, when he delivered his contradiction through Judge Pierrepont to the Surratt jury, and when he felt the shadows darkening over his head because of the “inexplicable conduct” of the great War Minister in “perpetuating the pitiless outrage,” knew it, and recognized the President of the United States as the responsible author of the tremendous accusation.
If Holt is to be credited, the President must have known that four at least of his confidential advisers stood ready to shatter the baseless calumny. What conceivable motive, we ask again, to invent such a story—so easy of refutation, so ruinous to himself, if refuted?
The necessity to make some reply to this pressing question seems to have driven both General Holt himself and his defenders into the maintenance of the most absurd, antagonistic and untenable positions.