THE CHALLENGE
"One war at a time," the President said to his Secretary of State when
he proposed a foreign fight. He must now strangle Northern public
opinion to enforce this principle.
Captain Wilkes had overhauled the British Steamer _Trent_ on the high
seas, searched her and taken the Confederate Commissioners Mason and
Slidell by force from her decks.
The people of the North were mad with joy over the daring act. Congress,
swept off its feet by the wave of popular hysteria, proclaimed Wilkes a
hero and voted their thanks. The President did not move with current
opinion. He had formed the habit in boyhood of thinking for himself, and
had never allowed himself to take his cues for action from second-hand
suggestions. From the first he raised the question of Wilkes' right to
stop the vessel of a friendly nation on the high seas, search her and
take her passengers prisoners by force of arms.
The backwoods lawyer questioned, too, the right of a naval officer to
turn his quarter-deck into a court and decide questions of international
law offhand. He raised the point at once whether these men thus captured
might not be white elephants on the hands of the Government. Moreover
he reminded his Cabinet that we had fought England once for daring to do
precisely this thing.
Great Britain promptly drew her sword and made ready for war.
Queen Victoria's Government not only demanded that the return of these
passengers be made at once with an apology, but did it in a way so
offensive that a less balanced man in power would have lost his head and
committed the fatal blunder.
The tall, quiet Chief Magistrate was equal to the occasion. Great
Britain had ordered her navy on a war footing, dispatched eight thousand
troops to Canada to strike by land as well as sea, allowing us but seven
days in which to comply with all her demands or hand Lord Lyons his
passports.
The President immediately dictated a reply which forced her Prime
Minister to accept it and achieved for the Nation the establishment of a
principle for which we had fought in vain in 1812.
He ordered the prisoners returned and an apology expressed. His apology
was a two-edged sword thrust which Great Britain was compelled to take
with a groan.
"In 1812," the President said, "the United States fought because you
claimed the right to stop our vessels on the high seas, search them and
take by force British subjects found thereon. Our country in making this
surrender, adheres to the ancient principle for which we contended and
we are glad to find that Her Majesty's Government in demanding this
surrender thereby renounces an error and accepts our position."
Lord Palmerston made a wry face, but was compelled to accept the
surrender, and with it seal his own humiliation as a beaten diplomat.
War with England at this moment would have meant unparalleled disaster.
France had ambitions in Mexico and she was bound in friendship to
England. The two great Nations of Europe would have been hurled against
our divided country with the immediate recognition of the Confederacy.
The President forced this return of the prisoners and apparent surrender
to Great Britain in the face of the blindest and most furious outbursts
of popular rage.
Gilbert Winter rose in the Senate and in thunderous oratory voiced the
well-nigh unanimous feeling of the millions of the North of all parties
and factions:
"I warn the administration against this dastardly and cowardly surrender
to a foreign foe! The voice of the people demand that we stand firm on
our dignity as a Sovereign Nation. If the President and his Cabinet
refuse to listen they will find themselves engulfed in a fire that will
consume them like stubble. They will find themselves helpless before a
power that will hurl them from their places!"
The President was still under the cloud of public wrath over this affair
when the crisis of the problem of emancipation became acute. The gradual
growth of the number of his bitter foes in Washington he had seen with
deep distress. And yet it was inevitable. No man in his position could
administer the great office whose power he was wielding without fear or
favor and not make enemies. And now both friend and foe were closing in
on him with a well-nigh resistless demand for emancipation.
Hour after hour he sat patiently in his office receiving these
impassioned delegations.
Old Edward was standing at the door again smiling and washing his hands:
"A delegation of editors, presenting Mr. Horace Greeley's 'Prayer of
Twenty Millions.'"
The patient eyes were lifted front his desk, and the strong mouth firmly
pressed:
"Let them in."
The President rose in his easy, careless manner:
"I'm glad to see you, gentlemen. You are the leaders of public opinion.
The people rule this country and I am their servant. What is it?"
The Chairman of the Committee stepped forward and gravely handed him an
engrossed copy of Greeley's famous editorial, "The Prayer of Twenty
Millions," demanding the immediate issue of a proclamation of
emancipation.
The Chairman bowed and spoke in earnest tones:
"As the representatives of millions of readers we present this 'Prayer'
with our endorsement and the request that you act. In particular we call
your attention to these paragraphs:
"'A great portion of those who brought about your election and all those
who desire the unqualified suppression of the rebellion, are sorely
disappointed, pained and surprised by the policy you seem to be pursuing
with regard to the slaves of rebels. I write to set before you
succinctly and unmistakably what we require, what we have a right to
expect and of what we complain.
"'We think you are unduly influenced by the counsels, the
representations and the menaces of certain fossil politicians from the
Border Slave States, knowing as you do, that the loyal citizens of these
States do not expect that Slavery shall be upheld, to the prejudice of
the Union.
"'We complain that the Union cause has suffered and is now suffering
immensely from the mistaken course which you are pursuing and
persistently cling to, in defense of slavery. We complain that the
confiscation act which you approved is being wantonly and wholly
disregarded by your Generals, apparently with your knowledge and
consent.
"'The seeming subserviency of your policy to the slave holding, slave
upholding interest is the perplexity and the despair of statesmen of all
parties. Whether you will choose to listen to their admonishment or wait
for your verdict through future history, or at the bar of God, I do not
know. I can only hope.'"
The President's sombre eyes met his with a penetrating flash and rested
on Senator Winter who remained in the background. He took the paper,
laid it carefully on his desk, threw his right leg across the corner of
the long table in easy, friendly attitude and began his reply
persuasively:
"The editor of the _Tribune_, gentleman, if on my side, is equal to an
army of a hundred thousand men in the field. I've known this from the
first. Against me he throws this army in the rear and fires into my
back. My grievance is that his Prayer which you have made yours is being
used for ammunition in this rear attack. It should have been presented
to me first, if it were a genuine prayer. I have read it carefully. It
is full of blunders of fact and reasoning, but it fairly expresses the
discontent in the minds of many. Its unfair assumptions will poison
millions of readers against me----"
He paused, opened a drawer in his desk, took from it a sheet of paper on
which he had written in firm, clear hand a brief message in reply, and
turned to his petitioners:
"And therefore, gentlemen, I have written a few words in answer to this
attack. I ask you to give it the same wide hearing you have accorded the
assault. I'll read it to you:
"'Dear Sir:--I have just read yours of the 19th instant addressed to
myself through the _New York Tribune_.
"'If there be in it any statements or assumptions of fact, which I know
to be erroneous, I do not now and here controvert them.
"'If there be any influences which I believe to be falsely drawn, I do
not now and here argue against them.
"'If there be perceptible in it an impatient and dictatorial tone, I
waive it in deference to an old friend, whose heart I have always
supposed to be right.
"'As to the policy I seem to be pursuing, as you say, I have not meant
to leave anyone in doubt. I would save the Union. I would save it in the
shortest way under the Constitution.
"'The sooner the National authority can be restored, the nearer the
Union will be,--the Union as it was.
"'If there be those who would not save the Union, unless they could at
the same time save Slavery, I do not agree with them.
"'If there be those who would not save the Union, unless they could at
the same time destroy Slavery, I do not agree with them.
"'_My paramount object is to save the Union, and not either to save or
destroy Slavery_.
"'If I could save the Union without freeing any slave I would do it. And
if I could save it by freeing all the slaves I would do it. And if I
could save it by freeing some, and leaving others alone, I would also do
that.
"'What I do about Slavery and the colored race I do because I believe it
helps to save the Union, and what I forbear, I forbear because I do not
believe it would help to save the Union.
"'I shall do less whenever I believe what I am doing hurts the cause,
and I shall do more, whenever I believe doing more will help the cause.
"'I shall try to correct errors, when shown to be errors, and I shall
adopt new views so fast as they shall appear to be true views.
"'I have stated my purpose, according to my view of official duty, and I
intend no modification of my oft expressed personal wish, that all men
everywhere could be free.'"
A moment of death-like stillness followed the reading. The members of
the committee had unconsciously pressed nearer. Some of them stood with
shining eyes gazing at the rugged, towering figure as if drawn by a
magnet. The stark earnestness and simplicity of his defense had found
their hearts. The daring of it fairly took their breath.
Senator Winter turned to his nearest neighbor and growled:
"Bah! The trouble is Lincoln's a Southerner--born in the poisoned slave
atmosphere of the South. He grew up in Southern Indiana and Illinois.
His neighbors there were settlers from the South. He has never breathed
anything but Southern air and ideals. It's in his blood. Only a man born
in the South could have written that document----"
The listener looked up suddenly:
"I believe you are right. Excuse me--I want to speak to the long-legged
Southerner. I've never seen him before."
To the astonishment of the Senator, the editor pushed his way into the
group who were shaking hands with the President.
He paused an instant, extended his hand and felt the rugged fingers
close on it with a hearty grip. Before he realized it he was saying
something astounding--something the farthest possible removed from his
thoughts on entering the room.
"I want to thank you, sir, for that document. The heart of an unselfish
patriot speaks through every word. I came here to criticise and find
fault. I'm going home to stand by you through thick and thin. You've
given us a glimpse inside."
Both big hands were now clasping his and a mist was clouding the
hazel-grey eyes.
"The Senator accuses you," he went on, "of being a Southerner. He must
be right. No Northern man could have seen through the clouds of passion
to-day clearly enough to have written that letter. You can see things
for all the people, North, South, East and West. God bless you--I'm
going home to fight for you and with you----"
In angry amazement Senator Winter saw most of the men he had led to
this carefully planned attack walk up and pledge their loyalty to his
smiling foe. He turned on his heel and left, his jaw set, his blue eyes
dancing with fury.
Old Edward was again rubbing his hands apologetically at the door:
"A body of clergymen from Chicago, sir----"
"Clergymen from Chicago?"
"Yes, sir."
"I didn't know they ever used such things in Chicago!"
He caught his knee in his big hands, leaned back and laughed heartily.
The doorman looked straight ahead and managed to keep his solemn
countenance under control.
"All right, let them in, Edward."
The reverend gentlemen solemnly filed into the executive office. They
looked around in evident amazement at its bare poverty-stricken
appearance. They had been shocked at the threadbare appearance of the
White House grounds as they entered. This room was a greater shock--this
throbbing nerve centre of the Nation. In the middle stood the long,
plain table around which the storm-racked Cabinet were wont to gather.
There was not a single piece of ornamental or superfluous furniture
visible. It appeared almost bare. A second-hand upright desk stood by
the middle window. In the northwest corner of the room there were racks
with map rollers, and folios of maps on the floor and leaning against
the wall.
The well-dressed, prosperous-looking gentlemen gazed about in a critical
way.
Their spokesman was a distinguished Bishop who knew that he was
distinguished and conveyed the information in every movement of his
august body.
"We have come, Mr. President," he solemnly began, "as God's messengers
to urge on you the immediate and universal emancipation of every slave
in America."
The faintest suggestion of a smile played about the corners of the big,
firm mouth as he rose and began a reply which greatly astonished his
visitors. They had come to lecture him and before they knew it the lamb
had risen to slay the butchers.
"I am approached, gentlemen," he said softly, "with the most opposite
opinions and advice, and that by religious men, who are equally certain
that they represent the Divine Will. I am sure that either one or the
other class is mistaken in that belief, and perhaps in some respects,
both. I hope it will not be irreverent for me to say that if it is
probable that God would reveal His will to others on a point so
connected with my duty, it might be supposed He would reveal it directly
to me----"
He paused just an instant and his bushy eyebrows were raised a trifle as
if in search of one friendly face in which the sense of humor was not
dead. He met with frozen silence and calmly continued:
"Unless I am more deceived in myself than I often am, it is my earnest
desire to know the will of Providence in this matter. And if I can learn
what it is I will do it! These are not, however, the days of miracles,
and I suppose it will be granted that I am not to expect a direct
revelation. I must study the plain physical facts of the case, ascertain
what is possible, and learn what appears to be wise and right. The
subject is difficult and good men do not agree----"
"We are all agreed to-day!" the leader interrupted.
"Even so, Bishop, but we are not all here to-day."
The gentle irony was lost on the great man, and the President went on
good-naturedly:
"What good would a proclamation of emancipation do as we are now
situated? Shall I issue a document that the whole world will see must be
of no more effect that the Pope's bull against the comet? Will my words
free the slaves when I cannot even enforce the Constitution in the rebel
States? Is there a single court or magistrate, or individual that will
be influenced by it there? I approved the law of Congress which offers
protection and freedom to the slaves of rebel masters who come within
our lines. Yet I can not learn that the law has caused a single slave to
come over to us.
"Now then, tell me, if you please, what possible result of good would
follow the issuing of such a proclamation as you desire? The greatest
evils might follow it--among them the revolt of the Border Slave States
which we have held loyal with so much care, and the desertion from the
ranks of our armies of thousands of Democratic soldiers who tell us
plainly that they are not fighting and they're not going to fight to
free negroes!
"Understand me, I raise no objection against it on legal grounds. As
Commander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy in time of war, I suppose I have
a right to take any measure which may best subdue the enemy. Nor do I
urge objections of a moral nature in view of possible consequences of
servile insurrection and massacre in the South. I view this matter now
as a practical war measure. Has the moment arrived when I can best
strike with this weapon?
"Do not misunderstand me because I have mentioned objections. They
indicate some of the difficulties that have thus far prevented my action
in some such way as you desire. I have not decided against a
proclamation of liberty to the slaves. I hold the matter under
advisement. And I can assure you that the subject is on my mind, by day
and night more than any other. What shall appear to be God's will I will
do----"
He stopped suddenly and a smile illumined his dark face:
"But I cannot see, gentlemen, why God should be sending his message to
me by so roundabout route as the sinful city of Chicago. I trust that in
the freedom with which I have canvassed your views and expressed my own,
I have not in any respect injured your feelings."
The ice was broken at last and the men of God began to smile, press
forward and shake his hand. They came his critics, and left his friends.
And yet no hint was given to a single man present that his Emancipation
Proclamation had been written two months before and at this moment was
lying in the drawer of the old desk before which he sat. Long before the
revelation of God's will through these clergymen he had discussed its
provisions before his Cabinet and enjoined absolute secrecy. Men from
all walks of life came to advise the backwoods lawyer on how to save the
country. He listened to all and then did exactly what he believed to be
best.
His plan had long been formed on the subject of the destruction of
Slavery. His purpose was to accomplish this great task in a way which
would give his people a just and lasting peace. He held the firm
conviction that the North was equally responsible with the South for the
existence of Slavery, and that the Constitution which he had sworn to
defend and uphold guaranteed to the slave owner his rights. He was
determined to free the slaves if possible, but to do it fairly and
honestly and then settle the question for all time by colonizing the
negro race and removing them forever from physical contact with the
white.
At his request Congress had already passed a bill providing for the
colonization of emancipated slaves. He now sent for a number of
representative negroes to hear his message and deliver it to their
people.
Old Edward ushered them into his office with a look of unmistakable
superiority.
It was a strange meeting--this facing for the first time between the
supreme representative of the dominant race of the new era and the freed
black men whose very existence the President held to be an eternal
menace against the Nation's future. It is remarkable that the first
words Abraham Lincoln ever addressed as President to an assemblage of
negroes should have been the words which fell from his lips.
The ebony faces, their cream-colored teeth showing with smiles and their
wide rolling eyes roaming the room made a striking and dramatic contrast
to the rugged face and frame of the man who addressed them.
"Your race is suffering," he began with distinct, clean cut emphasis,
"in my judgment the greatest wrong inflicted on any people. But even
when you cease to be slaves, you are yet far removed from being placed
on an equality with the white race. On this broad continent not a
single man of your race is made the equal of a single man of ours. Go
where you are treated best and the ban is still upon you. I cannot alter
it if I would.
"It is better for us both, therefore, to be separated. One of the
principal difficulties in the way of colonization is that the free
colored man cannot see that his comfort would be advanced by it. For the
sake of your race you should sacrifice something of your present
comfort. In the American Revolution sacrifices were made by the men
engaged in it. They were cheered by the future.
"The Colony of Liberia is an old one, is in a sense a success and it is
open to you. I am arranging to open another in Central America. It is
nearer than Liberia--within seven days by steamer. You are intelligent
and know that success does not so much depend on external help as on
self-reliance. Much depends on yourself. If you will engage in the
enterprise, I will spend some of the money intrusted to me. This is the
practical part of my wish to see you. I ask you then to consider it
seriously, not for yourselves merely, _nor for your race and ours for
the present time, but for the good of mankind_."
He dismissed his negro hearers and sent again for the representatives of
the Border Slave States. Here his plan must be set in motion. He
proposed to pay for the slaves set free and arrange for their
colonization.
He spoke with deep emotion. His soul throbbed with passionate tenderness
in every word.
"You are patriots and statesmen," he solemnly declared, "and as such I
pray you to consider this proposition, and at the least commend it to
the consideration of your States and people. Our common country is in
grave peril demanding the loftiest views and boldest action to bring it
speedy relief. You can make it possible to accomplish the just
destruction of this curse of our life. It will bring emancipation as a
voluntary process, leaving the least resentment in the minds of our
slave-holders. It will not be a violent war measure, to be remembered
with fierce rebellious anger. It will pave the way for good feeling at
last between all sections when reunited. It is reasonable. It is just.
It will leave no cause for sectional enmity. This plan of gradual
emancipation with pay for each slave to his owner will secure peace more
speedily and maintain it more permanently than can be done by force
alone. Its cost could be easier paid than the additional cost of war and
would sacrifice no blood at all.
"In giving freedom to the _slave_, we _assure_ freedom to the
_free_--honorable alike in what we give and what we preserve. We shall
nobly save or meanly lose the last best hope of earth. Other means may
succeed. This could not fail. The way is plain, peaceful, generous,
just--a way which if followed, the world will forever applaud, and God
must forever bless."
His tender, eloquent appeal fell on deaf ears. The men who represented
the Border Slave States refused to permit the question of tampering with
Slavery to be submitted to their people--no matter by what process, with
or without pay.
They demanded with sullen persistence that the President defy all shades
of Northern opinion and stand squarely by his Inaugural address. In vain
he pointed out to them that the fact of a desperate and terrible war,
costing two million dollars a day and threatening the existence of the
Government itself, had changed the conditions under which he made that
pledge.
When the President at last introduced into Congress through his
spokesman the bill appropriating fifteen million dollars with which to
pay for their slaves, the men from the Border States united with the
Democrats and defeated it!
With a sorrowful heart and deep forebodings of the future he turned to
his desk and drew forth the document he had written declaring as an act
of war against the States in rebellion that their slaves should be free.
He read its provisions again with the utmost care. He made no attack on
Slavery, or the slave-holder. He was striking the blow against the
wealth and power of the South for the sole purpose of crippling her
resources and weakening her power to continue the struggle to divide the
Union. There was in it not one word concerning the rights of man or the
equal rights of black and white men. His mind was absolutely clear on
that point. The negro when freed would be an alien race so low in the
scale of being, so utterly different in temperament and character from
the white man that their remaining in physical contact with each other
in our Republic was unthinkable. In the Emancipation Proclamation
itself, therefore, he had written the principles of the colonization of
the negro race. The two things were inseparable. He could conceive of no
greater calamity befalling the Nation than to leave the freed black man
within its borders as an eternal menace to its future happiness and
progress.
He called his Secretary and ordered a Cabinet meeting to fix the date on
which to issue this momentous document to the world--a challenge to
mortal combat to his foes in all sections.