“BOSTON, November 12, 1865. “TO THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, WASHINGTON. “As a faithful friend and supporter of your administration, I most respectfully petition you to suspend for the present your policy towards the Rebel States. I should not present this prayer, if I were not painfully convinced that thus far it has failed to obtain any reasonable guaranties for that security in the future which is essential to peace and reconciliation. To my mind, it abandons the freedmen to the control of their ancient masters, and leaves the national debt exposed to repudiation by returning Rebels. The Declaration of Independence asserts the equality of all men, and that rightful government can be founded only on the consent of the governed. I see small chance of peace, unless these great principles are practically established. Without this, the house will continue divided against itself. “CHARLES SUMNER, “_Senator of the United States_.” Reaching Washington Saturday evening, immediately before the opening of the last session of Congress, I lost no time in seeing the President. I was with him that evening three hours. I found him changed in temper and purpose. How unlike that President who, only a few days after arrival at power, made me feel so happy in the assurance of agreement on the great question! No longer sympathetic, or even kindly, he was harsh, petulant, and unreasonable. Plainly, his heart was with ex-Rebels. For the Unionist, white or black, who had borne the burden of the day, he had little feeling. He would not see the bad spirit of the Rebel States, and insisted that the outrages there were insufficient to justify exclusion from Congress. The following dialogue ensued. THE PRESIDENT. Are there no murders in Massachusetts? MR. SUMNER. Unhappily, yes,--sometimes. THE PRESIDENT. Are there no assaults in Boston? Do not men there sometimes knock each other down, so that the police is obliged to interfere? MR. SUMNER. Unhappily, yes. THE PRESIDENT. Would you consent that Massachusetts, on this account, should be excluded from Congress? MR. SUMNER. No, Mr. President, I would not. And here I stopped, without remarking on the entire irrelevancy of the inquiry. I left the President that night with the painful conviction that his whole soul was set as flint against the good cause, and that by the assassination of Abraham Lincoln the Rebellion had vaulted into the Presidential chair. Jefferson Davis was then in the casemates at Fortress Monroe, but Andrew Johnson was doing his work. “Ah! what avails it, … If the gulled conqueror receives the chain, And flattery subdues, when arms are vain?”