Charles Sumner: his complete works, volume 20 (of 20)

In Short

This book serves as the twentieth and final volume of the collected works of Charles Sumner, an influential Senator and abolitionist. Centered on the year 1872, the volume compiles speeches, letters, and legislative protests that track his disillusionment with the administration of Ulysses S. Grant. Through sharp critiques of executive overreach, political cronyism, and the lingering scars of the Civil War, Sumner charts a lonely path toward reconciliation. It remains a vital primary record of nineteenth-century American governance, revealing how a lifelong crusader for justice navigated the complexities of late-stage political power.

The Story

The narrative arc of this volume begins with the routine machinery of the Senate—debates over congressional apportionment, the free trade of books, and procedural law—but quickly pivots to a mounting sense of urgency regarding the integrity of the federal government. Sumner, once the legislative anchor of the Republican Party, finds himself increasingly at odds with the status quo. He begins to document what he terms "Grantism," a system he perceives as defined by nepotism, the misuse of military influence in civil affairs, and the prioritization of personal favor over the public good.

As the 1872 presidential election nears, Sumner’s focus shifts from internal party reform to a broader, more existential question: how should a nation that has survived a brutal civil war treat its former enemies? He is not merely an obstructionist; he proposes a vision of "reconciliation," arguing that the time for military dominance has passed. He advocates for a gentler, more generous approach to the South, famously insisting that the names of battles fought against fellow citizens should be stripped from the regimental colors of the United States Army. This, he argues, is the only way to heal the "bloody chasm" and move toward a true, unified peace.

The conflict culminates in his public break with the Republican establishment. He embraces Horace Greeley—an unlikely, original abolitionist candidate—as the champion of this new, reform-oriented, and reconciliatory politics. His letters and speeches from this period are defensive yet defiant. He rejects the label of "traitor" to his party, insisting that his principles have remained steadfast while the party itself has drifted away from its noble, antislavery origins. He engages in a vigorous correspondence to justify his shift, often addressing his critics with a mix of intellectual rigor and personal frustration.

The volume closes with a series of eulogies and reflections that underscore the weight of his long career. By the end, Sumner is a man looking backward at the high-minded ideals of the Civil War era and forward toward a precarious future. He dies, in essence, as a political dissenter, having spent his final days arguing that the "victory over fellow-citizens" should result in the protection of equal rights rather than the perpetuation of old animosities. The collection serves as a poignant testament to his final, solitary struggle to preserve the moral high ground in a political arena that he felt had lost its way.

How It Unfolds

The machinery of governance Sumner begins with technical legislative work, setting the stage by emphasizing the importance of parliamentary rules and the protective power of procedure for the minority party. He uses these mundane debates to establish his commitment to order, impartiality, and the "disinterested" exercise of public duty.

The critique of the Executive The focus shifts sharply to an investigation of arms sales to France and the influence of the President’s inner circle. Sumner uses these instances to build a case against the administration, framing the issues as a battle between law-abiding government and the "wantonness of power."

The call for reform Sumner moves to address the electorate, writing open letters to colored citizens and labor organizations. He argues that the Republican Party must be "purified" by reform or it will lose its moral authority, positioning himself as the conscience of a movement that is rapidly abandoning its roots.

The shift toward reconciliation In the final act, Sumner formalizes his support for Horace Greeley as a necessary step toward national healing. He argues that the war is over, that reconstruction is complete, and that the continued use of military force and symbols of victory only serves to keep old wounds open.

The People

Charles Sumner stands at the center of this volume, embodying the archetype of the incorruptible, if somewhat rigid, idealist. He is a man who measures current events against the high, uncompromising standards he set during the height of the abolitionist movement. He views himself as a steward of the Constitution and a guardian of the "minority" against the overreach of the powerful.

Ulysses S. Grant acts as the volume’s primary antagonist, though he is never directly debated. For Sumner, Grant represents the "soldier" who does not understand the nuance of civil governance. Sumner paints him as a man who mistakes the presidency for a private fiefdom, surrounding himself with relatives and cronies while ignoring the fundamental requirement of "disinterestedness."

Horace Greeley emerges as the instrument of Sumner’s hope for the future. By supporting Greeley, Sumner attempts to realign the political landscape away from the entrenched, corrupt interests of the Grant administration and toward a broader, more compassionate national identity.

Frederick Douglass remains a significant touchstone for Sumner, representing the constituency that he feels the party has begun to ignore. Sumner’s letters regarding Douglass reflect his concern that the rights of freedmen are being sacrificed for political expediency, a betrayal that serves as the moral catalyst for his final legislative stand.

In Its Own Voice

Sumner’s frustration with the perceived corruption of his peers is clear when he questions the moral foundation of the executive branch:

“Who shall reform the reformer? So also does the country ask for purity. But is it not vain to seek this boon from one whose Presidential pretensions are so demoralizing?”

Regarding his philosophy on the purpose of parliamentary procedure and the rights of those in the minority, he quotes Speaker Onslow with approval:

“That these forms, as instituted by our ancestors, operated as a check and control on the actions of the majority, and that they were in many instances a shelter and protection to the minority against the attempts of power.”

What It's Really About

At its core, this volume is an inquiry into the nature of political integrity after a revolution. Sumner is concerned with the question of whether a party born of a great moral crusade can survive the inevitable onset of institutional corruption. He treats the concept of "disinterestedness"—the ability to act solely for the public good—as the highest virtue a statesman can possess. Underlying the legal debates and the electioneering is a deeper, more melancholic question: how does a nation move from the binary morality of war to the messy, pluralistic politics of peace? Sumner argues that true peace requires not just the cessation of fighting, but the active, intentional abandonment of the symbols and power structures that keep the memory of that conflict alive.

Why Read It Today

This volume is essential for readers who appreciate the "behind-the-scenes" mechanics of political history. It is not an easy read; it requires patience for the dense, nineteenth-century oratory and the specific, often obscure, parliamentary battles of the 1870s. However, those who persevere will find a remarkably relevant meditation on the fragility of democratic norms. Sumner’s voice is remarkably consistent—earnest, learned, and occasionally self-righteous—and he captures the precise moment when a party’s idealism begins to harden into dogma.

The writing feels like a conversation with a man who is watching his world change in ways he cannot control. The dialect and the formal, legalistic language of the era may pose a challenge, but they also offer an authentic, unvarnished look at the political anxieties of the Gilded Age. Readers interested in the history of the Republican Party, the nuances of Reconstruction, or the psychological toll of long-term political leadership will find this book particularly rewarding. It stays with you as a study in stubborn consistency; even when Sumner is clearly losing the fight, his commitment to his own moral vocabulary remains unshakable. It is a work for those who believe that the character of the individual in office is as important as the laws they administer.