“You are doubtless surprised to see me,” he said.
“Unutterably so!” I rejoined. “Please tell me quickly why you have come, and end this agony of suspense!” And I burst into tears.
“Do not weep, dear Madam!” said Mr. Wilson. “Mr. Clay is well, and I have come to tell you that I deeply sympathise with you and desire to help you to obtain his release!”
“Mr. Clay’s surrender,” Mr. Wilson continued, “reflects great honour upon him. He is a brave and good man. Though he and I were opposed in politics, I have always respected Mr. Clay. Even his enemies on my side of the Chamber always knew where to find the Senator from Alabama!”
My heart was so full as I listened to these words, I could not make answer to this tribute to the worth of my suffering husband but by a fresh flow of tears. Somehow, as he stood before me, the erstwhile shoemaker of Nantucket seemed stamped with the seal of nobility from God! I did not then know his kindly nature, and those to whom I related the incident of this visit said nothing to impress me with the sincerity of Senator Wilson’s act. On the contrary, many assured me that some selfish and sinister motive impelled the interview, and that Mr. Wilson would not commit himself by writing what he had spoken. A friend to whom I wrote an account of the visit, replied, counselling me as follows:
“I do not personally know Mr. Wilson, but believe him, from report, to be tricky, unscrupulous, and only hypocritically fanatical. Mr. Stevens may have spoken to him, or Mr. Sumner (whom, you remember, I saw); or he may have wished to approach the President through an opening which he supposed congenial to the President’s wishes. However, your course is clear. Commit Mr. Wilson by a letter to the President, so that when the fight waxes furious he may not be able to take advantage of what the President may do. I consider it a good sign that the President desires to keep the letters of Messrs. Stevens and Walker.”
In the meantime I had spoken of the incident with warm enthusiasm to Mr. Johnson. He replied very much as others had done; to wit., that Mr. Wilson would not commit to writing the sentiments he had expressed verbally to me.
“He fears the Radical press too much,” said the President.
Nettled somewhat at this distrust, I assured Mr. Johnson of my faith in his Vice-President; that I would get the letter from him, and voluntarily. “If not,” I added, somewhat stung by his cynicism, “I will extort it!”
Shrugging his shoulders, and casting up one eye, a characteristic habit of the President, he asked, “How?”