The Denver Post

When Frederick Douglass met Andrew Johnson

- By Jennifer Szalai © The New York Times Co.

Andrew Johnson, having assumed the highest office after Lincoln’s assassinat­ion in 1865, wasn’t only an accidental president but also a racist one — about that, Robert S. Levine says, there cannot be any doubt.

But as Levine points out in “The Failed Promise,” his fascinatin­g if flawed new book about Reconstruc­tion and Johnson’s eventual impeachmen­t, a number of Black leaders and Radical Republican­s were in fact hopeful that Johnson would prove to be a more ardent defender of Black people’s rights than Lincoln himself.

Lincoln had taken a while to commit himself to the anti-slavery cause; so had Johnson, but after the Emancipati­on Proclamati­on of 1863, he started calling slavery “a cancer on our society,” and saying quietly that Lincoln was moving too slowly against the Confederac­y to “crush the rebellion.” In 1864, speaking to an enthusiast­ic Black audience in Nashville, Johnson — the military governor of Tennessee at the time — issued an audacious promise: “I will indeed be your Moses, and you through the Red Sea of war and bondage, to a fairer future of liberty and peace.”

With this slender book, Levine aims to do several things at once. Unlike other volumes on Johnson’s impeachmen­t, which focus mainly on the Radical Republican­s who wanted him removed from office, “The Failed Promise” looks closely at the perspectiv­e of Frederick Douglass and other Black leaders. Levine also tries to recreate the uncertaint­y of the time, offering careful readings of contempora­neous documents instead of emphasizin­g retrospect­ive accounts that have been shaped by the benefit of hindsight.

To that end, the book opens with Douglass’ famously scathing descriptio­n of Johnson at Lincoln’s second inaugurati­on in March 1865. As Douglass would write 16 years later in “Life and Times of Frederick Douglass,” he noticed Johnson glancing at him with a look of “bitter contempt and aversion.” Douglass turned to his companion and said, “Whatever Andrew Johnson may be, he certainly is no friend of our race.”

Levine, a professor of English who has written extensivel­y about Douglass, advises that Douglass’ account, which dramatizes his prescience, ought to be read with a measure of skepAs a gifted orator and writer, Douglass could sometimes tell stories “long after the fact that sidesteppe­d ambiguitie­s or conflicts,” Levine writes. “Life and Times” depicts the “triumphant election” of Lincoln in 1860 in the most glowing terms, glossing over Douglass’ swift disillusio­nment. A year after that “triumphant election,” he was deriding the “pro-slavery interferen­ce of President LINCOLN” and the administra­tion’s “helpless imbecility.”

Part of Levine’s argument is that Johnson, who by all accounts was drunk at Lincoln’s second inaugurati­on, wasn’t necessaril­y doomed to be the disastrous president he proved to be. As a Southern pro-union (and eventually anti-slavery) Democrat during the Civil War, Johnson had not only endeared himself to Republican­s and cannily furthered his own political career, he had knowingly put his own life at risk.

Sen. Charles Sumner was one of the Radical Republican­s who was optimistic about Johnson, declaring himself “satisfied that he is the sincere friend of the Negro, & ready to act for him decisively.” Similarly, Johnson’s relations with African Americans were, Levine writes, largely “amiable” early on. African American activist John Mercer Langston said he was satisfied by Johnson’s assurances “that his colored fellow-citizens should find in him a friend mindful always of their wellead fare.”

But Douglass was quick to see what Johnson was up to. Before the end of his first year in office, Johnson had announced an Amnesty Proclamati­on for ex-confederat­es, allowing Southern landowners who petitioned him personally to hold onto their property. Instead of referring to Reconstruc­tion, he insisted on the term “restoratio­n.” In the South, emboldened white mobs descended on Black people, perpetrati­ng the 1866 massacres in Memphis and New Orleans. Douglass, as part of a delegation of Black Americans that visited the White House to argue for Black suffrage, told Johnson, “You enfranchis­e your enemies and disfranchi­se your friends.”

Johnson, stubborn and thinskinne­d, responded to criticism by getting indignant and defensive, even borderline “unhinged,” Levine writes. If it hadn’t been for increasing opposition, he continues, “a more benign and pragmatic Johnson might have emerged.”

The propositio­n is unconvinci­ng, to put it mildly. Levine puts a lot of weight on the fact that in 1865, Johnson had privately expressed a plan for limited Black suffrage. Yet at the same time, Johnson was publicly insisting that suffrage too radical would set off “a war of the races.” And whatever Johnson may have said, what he actually did couldn’t be clearer. He used his power to undermine Reconstruc­tion at every turn, presidtici­sm. ing over what the historian Annette Gordon-reed has called a “slow-motion genocide.”

Levine nimbly narrates the road to Johnson’s eventual impeachmen­t — including a bizarre job offer that Johnson unofficial­ly extended to Douglass to become the commission­er of the Freedmen’s Bureau, an agency that Johnson seemed to be doing everything else in his power to impair or even destroy.

But when Johnson was eventually impeached, it wasn’t for his subversion of Reconstruc­tion; it was for failing to obtain congressio­nal approval before he fired his secretary of war. The articles of impeachmen­t were “dryly legalistic,” almost all of them focused on violations of the Tenure of Office Act, passed by Congress just the year before. Republican­s were trying to portray Johnson as a lawbreaker while studiously avoiding the matter of race.

This fixation on technicali­ties, Levine says, “allowed Congress to impeach Johnson not for doing harm to hundreds of thousands of Black people in the South but for firing a white man.”

The impeachers may have been trying to be pragmatic, but playing it safe didn’t work; Johnson prevailed by a single vote. As one of his biographer­s, Hans Trefousse, once put it: “If you impeach for reasons that are not the real reasons, you really can’t win.”

 ?? By Robert S. Levine (W.W. Norton & Co.) ?? The Failed Promise
By Robert S. Levine (W.W. Norton & Co.) The Failed Promise

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