“Alea jacta est: Mr. Johnson has put his hand to the plow, and cannot look back.... He has shown the very highest order of statesmanship in that command of himself and ability to bide his time, amid unexampled embarrassments, which have won for him the confidence of reflecting men. But could you not gently insinuate some day that, hereafter, the great debate, on appeal, is to be carried before the Tribunal of the American people in the case of the President versus Congress?... Many of Mr. Lincoln’s acts, wrong in themselves, were nevertheless pardoned or applauded, because they evinced energy, courage or willingness to shoulder responsibility....
“As one of the people, ... and accustomed to ‘pulse’ the public, I think I may unhesitatingly assert that Mr. Johnson would gain immensely by no longer waiting to be attacked and undermined, but boldly striking his country’s and his own enemies. If he would break out before witnesses into indignant denunciation of Mr. Stanton for having attempted to sap the foundation of liberty, and that, therefore, he is unfit to be in the Government of a free people, a thrill of joy would course like electricity through the land. Let the contest be only strictly defined; let the President, with a cabinet of friends, stand forward as the defender of peace and Union against a Congress which seeks to perpetuate strife, discord, and disunion, and we will, by meetings held in every county of the North, so arouse the people in support of our constitutional and law-abiding President against a lawless and usurping Congress, that it would be comparing small things to great to compare it with the pressure which General Monk and the people of England brought to bear upon the fanatical Parliament in behalf of Charles II.”
A few days after the receipt of this letter, while on my way to call upon the President, and in the company of my faithful friend, Mrs. Bouligny, I met Mr. Stanton descending the stairs of the White House. I saw by the Secretary’s manner that he recognised me. Indeed, there was a half-inclination of the head, as if he had expected me to bow to him. I did not do so. The innate contempt I felt for this despotic Secretary of War, whom I knew to be the power upholding Mr. Holt, who was so cruelly detaining my husband, froze my manner into a hauteur I could not easily have assumed. I went angrily to my appointment.
As I entered the parlour in which the President stood ready to receive me, I immediately broke into the subject to which I so continually had returned at each of my many visits during the past three months. But the President interposed a question.
“Did you meet Stanton as you came in?” he asked.
“I did!” I replied. “And he had the audacity to bow to me!”
“The scoundrel!” ejaculated the President. “He has been here an hour clamouring for the blood of Davis and Clay!”
“But you will release them?” I asked.
“You must be patient,” answered Mr. Johnson. “I must detain them a little longer to satisfy public clamour!”
At this my indignation rose. In augmenting emotion I recapitulated the letters and indorsements I had brought to him urging my husband’s release. I reiterated my reasons why the recommendations of these gentlemen should have weight with him. I referred to my husband’s inability to combat the charges that had been made against him, while denied trial, the access of counsel, or his release from custody. I described his ill-health and the aged father at home, now so near to death; I rehearsed my husband’s past services to his country and the dishonourable way in which the Government had acted toward this self-surrendered prisoner. I spoke the thoughts that rose in my heart, irrespective of the consequences, and, having massed my arguments in this way, I summed them all up in one uncontrollable protest: