THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
had descended to their level and called for names. He mentioned Thaddeus Stevens, Charles Sumner and Wendell Phillips as men who worked against the fundamental principles of the government and excited the boisterous merriment of the audience by calling John W. Forney, the Secretary of the Senate and a prominent journalist, “a dead duck” upon whom “he would not waste his ammunition.” Again he spoke of his rise from humble origin—a tailor who “always made a close fit”—and broadly insinuated that there were men in high places who were not satisfied with Lincoln's blood, but, wanting more, thought of getting rid of him, too, in the same way.
I remember well the impression made by this speech as it came out in the newspapers. Many, if not most, of the public men I saw in Washington, remembering the disgraceful appearance of Andrew Johnson in a drunken state at the inauguration, at once expressed their belief that he must have been in the same condition when delivering that speech. They simply argued that it would have been utterly impossible for a President of the United States—indeed for any public man of self-respect—to descend to such outrageous railing and such vulgar drivel when in his sober senses. The supposition of drunkenness might, therefore, have been advanced rather to explain and mitigate an offense so outrageous, than to make it appear worse. But to what conclusions would such an excuse lead? The impression made upon the people by this event—for it might well be called an event—was manifested by the press. Most of the newspapers favoring the President's policy were struck dumb; but few ventured a word of defense. Of those opposing him but few raised a shrill cry of indignation; most of them spoke of it in grave but evidently restrained language. The general feeling was one of profound shame and humiliation in behalf of the country.
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