Frederick Douglass told, in these words, of his first interview with
President Lincoln:
“I approached him with trepidation as to how this great man might
receive me; but one word and look from him banished all my fears and set
me perfectly at ease. I have often said since that meeting that it was
much easier to see and converse with a great man than it was with a
small man.
“On that occasion he said:
“‘Douglass, you need not tell me who you are. Mr. Seward has told me all
about you.’
“I then saw that there was no reason to tell him my personal story,
however interesting it might be to myself or others, so I told him at
once the object of my visit. It was to get some expression from him upon
three points:
“1. Equal pay to colored soldiers.
“2. Their promotion when they had earned it on the battle-field.
“3. Should they be taken prisoners and enslaved or hanged, as Jefferson
Davis had threatened, an equal number of Confederate prisoners should be
executed within our lines.
“A declaration to that effect I thought would prevent the execution of
the rebel threat. To all but the last, President Lincoln assented. He
argued, however, that neither equal pay nor promotion could be granted
at once. He said that in view of existing prejudices it was a great step
forward to employ colored troops at all; that it was necessary to avoid
everything that would offend this prejudice and increase opposition to
the measure.
“He detailed the steps by which white soldiers were reconciled to the
employment of colored troops; how these were first employed as laborers;
how it was thought they should not be armed or uniformed like white
soldiers; how they should only be made to wear a peculiar uniform; how
they should be employed to hold forts and arsenals in sickly locations,
and not enter the field like other soldiers.
“With all these restrictions and limitations he easily made me see that
much would be gained when the colored man loomed before the country as a
full-fledged United States soldier to fight, flourish or fall in defense
of the united republic. The great soul of Lincoln halted only when he
came to the point of retaliation.
“The thought of hanging men in cold blood, even though the rebels
should murder a few of the colored prisoners, was a horror from which he
shrank.
“‘Oh, Douglass! I cannot do that. If I could get hold of the actual
murderers of colored prisoners I would retaliate; but to hang those who
have no hand in such murders, I cannot.’
“The contemplation of such an act brought to his countenance such an
expression of sadness and pity that it made it hard for me to press my
point, though I told him it would tend to save rather than destroy life.
He, however, insisted that this work of blood, once begun, would be hard
to stop--that such violence would beget violence. He argued more like a
disciple of Christ than a commander-in-chief of the army and navy of a
warlike nation already involved in a terrible war.
“How sad and strange the fate of this great and good man, the saviour
of his country, the embodiment of human charity, whose heart, though
strong, was as tender as a heart of childhood; who always tempered
justice with mercy; who sought to supplant the sword with counsel of
reason, to suppress passion by kindness and moderation; who had a sigh
for every human grief and a tear for every human woe, should at last
perish by the hand of a desperate assassin, against whom no thought of
malice had ever entered his heart!”
“LINCOLN GOES IN WHEN THE QUAKERS ARE OUT”
One of the campaign songs of 1860 which will never be forgotten was
Whittier’s “The Quakers Are Out:--”
“Give the flags to the winds!
Set the hills all aflame!
Make way for the man with
The Patriarch’s name!
Away with misgivings--away
With all doubt,
For Lincoln goes in when the
Quakers are out!”
Speaking of this song (with which he was greatly pleased) one day at
the White House, the President said: “It reminds me of a little story
I heard years ago out in Illinois. A political campaign was on, and the
atmosphere was kept at a high temperature. Several fights had already
occurred, many men having been seriously hurt, and the prospects were
that the result would be close. One of the candidates was a professional
politician with a huge wart on his nose, this disfigurement having
earned for him the nickname of ‘Warty.’ His opponent was a young lawyer
who wore ‘biled’ shirts, ‘was shaved by a barber, and had his clothes
made to fit him.
“Now, ‘Warty’ was of Quaker stock, and around election time made a great
parade of the fact. When there were no campaigns in progress he was
anything but Quakerish in his language or actions. The young lawyer
didn’t know what the inside of a meeting house looked like.
“Well, the night before election-day the two candidates came together at
a joint debate, both being on the speakers’ platform. The young lawyer
had to speak after ‘Warty,’ and his reputation suffered at the hands of
the Quaker, who told the many Friends present what a wicked fellow the
young man was--never went to church, swore, drank, smoked and gambled.
“After ‘Warty’ had finished the other arose and faced the audience. ‘I’m
not a good man,’ said he, ‘and what my opponent has said about me is
true enough, but I’m always the same. I don’t profess religion when I
run for office, and then turn around and associate with bad people when
the campaign’s over. I’m no hypocrite. I don’t sing many psalms. Neither
does my opponent; and, talking about singing, I’d just like to hear my
friend who is running against me sing the song--for the benefit of this
audience--I heard him sing the night after he was nominated. I yield the
floor to him:
“Of course ‘Warty’ refused, his Quaker supporters grew suspicious, and
when they turned out at the polls the following day they voted for the
wicked young lawyer.
“So, it’s true that when ‘the Quakers are out’ the man they support is
apt to go in.”