CHAPTER XXIX
President Johnson Hears What the “People Say”
Upon my return from the Fort on the 30th of January I redoubled my pleadings for Mr. Clay’s release, both by correspondence and by visits to the White House. The President’s bearing toward me was courteous and friendly, though it was apparent the confusion of the times and the pressure which was being brought upon him on every side was troubling him; but, notwithstanding that he listened and with every evidence of sympathy, Mr. Johnson continued irresolute, deferring from time to time on what, in fact, seemed the most trivial excuses, the issuing of the release papers. If I called once at the White House during the weeks that followed, I called fifty times, incessantly suing for my husband’s freedom, and adding sometimes a plea for the pardons of friends and neighbours in Huntsville who were eager to resume their normal positions in the community. In the middle of February I was enabled to write home as follows:
“My Dear Father: I send your long-sued-for pardon. Act upon its requirements at once! I am pressing my husband’s case and never mean to stop until success crowns my efforts. I am emboldened to hope the day not far distant when he will be a free man! Great political excitement now reigns.... The President is very kind to me always.”
Notwithstanding there were times when my own heart sank to an almost hopeless state, I wrote thus hopefully to the patriarch at home, for each post told me of his increasing feebleness, and I longed to sustain him, at least until my husband’s release was accomplished.
“God bless you!” wrote my sister, Mrs. J. Withers Clay, early in March, “and give you success! I asked father to send you some special message. He replied, ‘Give her my best love, and tell her for God’s sake to tell me when my poor boy will be pardoned!’”
These appeals, as will be understood, were the private agonies which acted like a lash to spur me to the end of the task of securing my husband’s freedom, and to stimulate me, even in the face of the continued delays which now were become so inexplicable.
Early in February a change in public feeling began to be made manifest in the press. The mystery of the detention of the prisoners at Fortress Monroe without trial was arousing curiosity. The New York Herald, thanks to the intervention of our friend, Colonel Robert Barnwell Rhett (of the doughty and fearless Charleston Mercury), who had presented Mr. Clay’s case to Mr. Bennett, now began to make inquiry in the cases of the unjustly treated prisoners.
“Dear Mrs. Clay,” wrote Colonel Rhett, late in December, “having the opportunity of a good talk with Mr. Bennett, of the New York Herald, day before yesterday, I urged him to come out for the release of your husband. He said he did not know much about the business! I told him Mr. Clay was universally recognised to be one of the purest and most high-minded public men in the country—one wholly incapable of anything criminal or questionable; and that he had gone to Canada at the solicitation of Mr. Davis to communicate with the Peace Party of the North. I reminded him that, after the collapse of the Confederate Government, when a reward was offered for his arrest, Mr. Clay had voluntarily and promptly surrendered himself, asking an investigation; and that no intelligent man in the country who knew anything of our public men believed the charges to be other than frivolous and absurd. I added that Mr. Clay’s prolonged captivity was regarded simply as an outrage on propriety, and that if he, Mr. Bennett, would take the subject in hand, he would greatly gratify the Southern people.
“He showed an interest in the matter, and said he would take it up in the Herald. That paper, you are aware, aims to reflect the current public opinion, irrespective of parties, and now warmly supports President Johnson against the Radicals. It is a great power, and by preparing the public mind and strengthening the President, may aid you efficiently.”
The results of this interview by no means met the hopes of Colonel Rhett, however; for the utterances of Mr. Bennett’s paper were few and guarded. But they were as a straw showing the veering of the wind.