There are so many images that have emerged from last week’s insurrection at the Capitol that are distasteful, un-American, and just downright frightening. One image, in particular, continues to haunt me and has burned a lasting picture in my mind. That image is this picture. A Confederate Flag being paraded around the Capitol more than 160 after the Civil War ended with the defeat of the Confederacy.
The mere presence of the Confederate flag in the hallowed halls of the Capitol alone is an abomination. The context of its appearance, as part of a violent attack, is a mockery of the 365,000 dead Union soldiers, let alone the hundred of thousands that were maimed and injured, who sacrificed their lives to ensure that the Confederacy would never triumph. If you live in Virginia, as I do, is hard no to be cognizant of those facts. The hundred or so miles separating Washington DC and Richmond is some of the bloodiest terrain in our country. Places like Fredericksburg, the Wilderness, and Cold Harbor are a forever reminder of the human cost that have been made in order to save what President Lincoln called the last best hope on earth.
At the same time, there is something else so disturbing in this picture. A story that is not immediately observable to the casual eye but one that a friend of mine astutely pointed out. The picture in the background is a portrait of Massachusetts Senator Charles Sumner. In May 1856, Sumner was beaten within an inch of his life with a cane by Congressman Preston Brooks of South Carolina after he delivered a stinging anti-slavery speech on the floor of the Senate.
Sumner was the junior Senator from the Bay State and a strong abolitionist Republican. He fancied himself as a great orator along the lines of Cicero but for many, even within the Republican Party, he was a bit of a blowhard. In May 1856, the country was being torn apart over the issue of extending slavery and the Kansas territory had become ground zero. The Kansas-Nebraska Act, which was passed two years earlier, stipulated that the people of the two territories themselves should decide whether to enter the Union as a free or slave state, effectively repealing the Missouri Compromise of 1820. Abolitionist settlers and pro-slavery Border Ruffians from neighboring Missouri pored into the state fueling a low grade civil war.
A day after pro-slavery partisans sacked the abolitionist stronghold of Lawrence Kansas, Sumner gave a speech on the floor of the Senate entitled “Crimes Against Kansas,” in which he identified two main culprits Senator Stephen Douglass of Illinois and Senator Andrew Butler of South Carolina. Sumner attacked both men but reserved his sharpest and most insulting commentary for Butler. Mocking the South Carolina senator’s stance as a man of chivalry, the Massachusetts senator charged him with taking “a mistress . . . who, though ugly to others, is always lovely to him; though polluted in the sight of the world, is chaste in his sight—I mean,” added Sumner, “the harlot, Slavery.”
Butler, who was an older man 60 years of age, was not present when Sumner made his remarks. However, his younger kinsman, Congressman Preston Brooks heard the remarks and was outraged. Brooks contemplated challenging Sumner to a duel to defend the honor of his relative but instead chose a more insidious option. Shortly after the Senate had adjourned for the day, Brooks entered the Senate chamber, where Sumner quietly was working and proceeded to smash Sumner over the head repeatedly with his metal topped cane. Sumner rose and futilely tried to protect himself before collapsing to the floor. Bleeding profusely, Sumner was carried away. Brooks walked calmly out of the chamber without being detained by the stunned onlookers.
When word spread of Brooks’ heinous act, he was hailed as a hero by his constituents who mailed him walking sticks to replace the cane he broke attacking Sumner. Brooks escaped any accountability for his actions. He survived a House censure resolution and even though he resigned he was immediately re-elected. Sumner recovered slowly and returned to the Senate, where he served another 18 years but his health was never quite the same.
As I look at this picture of the Confederate flag with Sumner’s portrait in the background I am reminded that there must be accountability for last week’s violence and the perpetrators who despoiled the hallowed halls of the Capitol must not be allowed to become heroes and celebrities. Somewhere, Charles Sumner is rolling in his grave!
Tragedy and Farce 