The Policy of Assassination.
WHEN the ball from the pistol of Booth went rudely crashing through the brain of President Lincoln, and his noble spirit passed to the bar of God, every one felt that whatever might be the effect upon the North, the deed was ruinous policy for the South. Roger A. Pryor is said to have declared at a public meeting in Petersburg, Va., that it was the severest blow the South had received. This appeared to be the prevalent feeling with thoughtful men both North and South. The thought was entertained and frequently expressed (by some as a hope, by others as a fear), that the Vice President was made of "sterner stuff" than the martyr who had fallen, and would deal with the rebels more severely, and more in accordance with their deserts. How far this hope has been realized, the country is generally aware. We are by no means willing to venture a wholesale and indiscriminate condemnation of President Johnson's exercise of the pardoning power. That its exercise, in many instances, was wise and just, none will dispute; and that the executive clemency has been freely, largely, recklessly, and even ridiculously extended, few thoughtful men in the North will deny. The present aspect of affairs both North and South, as compared with what it was ten months ago, is calculated to raise the question of the policy of assassination as a stroke of political expediency. The apparent success which, in the case under consideration, has attended a resort to the custom of mediæval and still more barbarous times, would seem to warrant the conclusion that this relic of barbarism has not lost its wonted power, even in the nineteenth century. At the conclusion of the war, the rebels were subdued in spirit, humbled, almost terrified. They were ready to accept any terms. To-day they are bold, arrogant and defiant—more disposed to dictate than accept terms. While there is a faithful, and, fortunately for us, a large body of men in Congress who are disposed to insist on proper guarantees as regards the South, for the honor and peace of the nation in future, there are not wanting evidences of the revival of the spirit of compromise, which was the bane of our politics in the past. No terms will be accepted by the South now comparable with what would have been gladly accepted last spring. How far this state of things would have been different had Mr. Lincoln lived, is, of course, matter of conjecture. But we suppose few intelligent men in either section think it would have been anything like what it is. While the deed of assassination may not have been prompted by the leaders of the rebellion at the moment of its execution, we are far from thinking that the profounder spirit who managed their cause from the beginning, and whose interests were inseparably linked with theirs, did not instigate the last and crowning act of malignity, as a master-stroke of policy in the interests of oppression. And though we have full faith that in this act of diabolism, as in all others, he will be ultimately outwitted, overreached, and crushed by the power of a mightier hand; yet he gains time, appears to succeed, and at least manages a hopeless cause with consummate skill. The horror with which the deed of assassination was for a time regarded, led many to hope, and confidently to express the hope, that as this was the first attempt in the history of our country to decide political differences by the assassin's stroke, so it would be the last. But the recent somewhat doubtful attack upon Senator Wade, and the ill-concealed wish, if not purpose (in the current language of these men), of "putting Senator Sumner out of the way," raises the apprehension that in the management of our politics, the code of the duellist is hereafter to give place to that of the bandit, and consequently also, the startling inquiry, whether the nation is in the ascending or descending scale of civilization.—Christian Press.