Impeached: The Trial of President Andrew Johnson and the Fight for Lincoln's Legacy by David O. Stewart Page A
Authors: David O. Stewart
Tags: United States, General, History, Biography & Autobiography, Political Science, 19th century, Presidents & Heads of State, Executive Branch, Government
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Mid-Atlantic and Midwest. To ensure big crowds, Johnson brought along with him the reluctant Ulysses Grant, Admiral David Farragut, and Secretary of State Seward. The trainload of worthies traveled to Philadelphia and New York, across upstate New York and the Midwest, then down to St. Louis and back to Washington City.
In day after day of nonstop speechmaking, Johnson failed to rally Northern opinion to support him. Dignified and self-possessed in a conference room, Johnson was a different animal on a speakers’ platform or a hotel balcony, looking out over a sea of torchlit faces. His blood rose, his language coarsened, his demeanor became stormy.
In every speech, Johnson boasted of rising through many public offices to the presidency, striking a self-congratulatory note that invited deflation. He always endorsed preservation of the Union, then accused Congress and Thad Stevens of wanting to destroy it. Reflecting his experience in the rough-and-tumble of Tennessee politics, Johnson dealt harsh blows against his enemies. One supporter, political veteran Thurlow Weed of New York, remembered Johnson at the time as “aggressive and belligerent to a degree that rendered him insensitive to considerations of prudence.”
After a few stops, the president’s opponents began to stage confrontations, shouting out questions and challenges that goaded him into ever more strident pronouncements. In Cleveland, he attacked “the subsidized gang of hirelings and traducers” who opposed him; he accused Congress of “trying to break up the Government.” He had defeated the traitors in the South, Johnson thundered, and now would fight traitors in the North. In St. Louis, the president accused Congress of planning the New Orleans Riot (which was actually a police assault on a peaceful black assembly). In a self-pitying harangue, he railed against those who supposedly called him a Judas Iscariot, betraying Republican principles:
If I have played the Judas, who has been my Christ that I have played the Judas with? Was it Thad Stevens? Was it Wendell Phillips? Was it Charles Sumner? These are the men that stop and compare themselves to the Saviour; and everybody that differs with them in opinion, and to try and stay and arrest their diabolical and nefarious policy, is to be denounced as a Judas.
In three weeks of speechifying, Johnson’s message failed to register with much of his audience, while he did himself little good politically. Northern voters were not yet ready to abandon the Republican politicians who had won the Civil War. Future President Rutherford Hayes of Ohio dismissed Johnson’s efforts with the observation that “he don’t know the Northern people.” Some said the president was drinking again. For many, Johnson’s speeches became an object of derision. Ulysses Grant spoke for a large section of Northern opinion when he wrote to his wife, “I have never been so tired of anything before as I have been with the political stump speeches of Mr. Johnson. I look upon them as a national disgrace.” A Johnson ally estimated that the Swing Around the Circle cost the Democrats a million votes in the fall elections.
In the 1860s, many states had different election days through the autumn. Starting with Maine’s vote in early September of 1866, an unmistakable pattern formed and held true in most states. By early November, the voters had elected an overwhelmingly Republican Congress. Of 226 members of the House of Representatives, 173 were Republicans. Republicans sat in all but nine of the 52 Senate seats. The president’s offensive had backfired.
Johnson’s acrimonious campaign in the second half of 1866 triggered powerful responses. The prospect of armed violence haunted both sides of the conflict between the president and Congress. Neither was planning insurrection, but each thought the other was.
The president’s opponents feared that he aimed at a military putsch. In July, Republican Senator John
In day after day of nonstop speechmaking, Johnson failed to rally Northern opinion to support him. Dignified and self-possessed in a conference room, Johnson was a different animal on a speakers’ platform or a hotel balcony, looking out over a sea of torchlit faces. His blood rose, his language coarsened, his demeanor became stormy.
In every speech, Johnson boasted of rising through many public offices to the presidency, striking a self-congratulatory note that invited deflation. He always endorsed preservation of the Union, then accused Congress and Thad Stevens of wanting to destroy it. Reflecting his experience in the rough-and-tumble of Tennessee politics, Johnson dealt harsh blows against his enemies. One supporter, political veteran Thurlow Weed of New York, remembered Johnson at the time as “aggressive and belligerent to a degree that rendered him insensitive to considerations of prudence.”
After a few stops, the president’s opponents began to stage confrontations, shouting out questions and challenges that goaded him into ever more strident pronouncements. In Cleveland, he attacked “the subsidized gang of hirelings and traducers” who opposed him; he accused Congress of “trying to break up the Government.” He had defeated the traitors in the South, Johnson thundered, and now would fight traitors in the North. In St. Louis, the president accused Congress of planning the New Orleans Riot (which was actually a police assault on a peaceful black assembly). In a self-pitying harangue, he railed against those who supposedly called him a Judas Iscariot, betraying Republican principles:
If I have played the Judas, who has been my Christ that I have played the Judas with? Was it Thad Stevens? Was it Wendell Phillips? Was it Charles Sumner? These are the men that stop and compare themselves to the Saviour; and everybody that differs with them in opinion, and to try and stay and arrest their diabolical and nefarious policy, is to be denounced as a Judas.
In three weeks of speechifying, Johnson’s message failed to register with much of his audience, while he did himself little good politically. Northern voters were not yet ready to abandon the Republican politicians who had won the Civil War. Future President Rutherford Hayes of Ohio dismissed Johnson’s efforts with the observation that “he don’t know the Northern people.” Some said the president was drinking again. For many, Johnson’s speeches became an object of derision. Ulysses Grant spoke for a large section of Northern opinion when he wrote to his wife, “I have never been so tired of anything before as I have been with the political stump speeches of Mr. Johnson. I look upon them as a national disgrace.” A Johnson ally estimated that the Swing Around the Circle cost the Democrats a million votes in the fall elections.
In the 1860s, many states had different election days through the autumn. Starting with Maine’s vote in early September of 1866, an unmistakable pattern formed and held true in most states. By early November, the voters had elected an overwhelmingly Republican Congress. Of 226 members of the House of Representatives, 173 were Republicans. Republicans sat in all but nine of the 52 Senate seats. The president’s offensive had backfired.
Johnson’s acrimonious campaign in the second half of 1866 triggered powerful responses. The prospect of armed violence haunted both sides of the conflict between the president and Congress. Neither was planning insurrection, but each thought the other was.
The president’s opponents feared that he aimed at a military putsch. In July, Republican Senator John
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