DOUGLASS’S SERVICES IN THE CIVIL WAR
The Civil War came on as the direct result of the irreconcilable
sentiments of the North and the South on the question of slavery and the
political conflicts already mentioned. On the part of the South, it was
begun and waged with marvelous courage and intelligence to preserve
slavery and to establish the right of secession; and on the part of the
North, to preserve the Union, and the right of Congress to deal with
slavery as a national issue. During the first two years of the war, the
Federal Government did and said everything possible to convince the
people of the South that the new Republican party had no intention, near
or remote, of interfering with slavery. At the very beginning of
hostilities, William H. Seward, Secretary of State, declared to the
nations of the world that “terminate however it might, the status of no
class of people of the United States would be changed by the Rebellion;
that the slaves would be slaves still and that the masters would be
masters still.” This policy was consistently followed in the field of
military operations, as well as in the civil administration of the
government.
General McClellan, Commander-in-Chief of the Union Army, early in the
conflict, warned the slaves that “if any attempt was made by them to
gain their freedom, it would be suppressed by an iron hand.” In many
places Union soldiers were detailed to guard the plantations of Southern
slave-owners. In parts of the South in possession of the Federal army,
black fugitives, who had found their way into the lines, were returned
to their masters by order of the commanding officers. The following is a
copy of the proclamation issued by General T. W. Sherman at Port Royal
in November, 1861:
“In obedience to the order of the President of these United States of
America, I have landed on your shores with a small force of national
troops. The dictates of duty which, under the Constitution, I owe to a
great sovereign state, and to a proud and hospitable people, among whom
I have passed some of the pleasantest days of my life, prompt me to
proclaim that we have come among you with no feelings of personal
animosity; no desire to harm your citizens, destroy your property or
interfere with your lawful rights or your social and local institutions
beyond what the cause herein briefly attended to, may render
unavoidable.”
This proclamation is typical of those issued by General John A. Dix,
General Burnside, and other Union commanders in different parts of the
South. All this was in perfect accord with President Lincoln’s
oft-repeated declaration, that his paramount object was to save the
Union and not to save or destroy slavery. “If I could save the Union,
without freeing the slaves, I would do it,” said he. “If I could do 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 have here stated my
purpose according to my views of official duty, and I intend no
modification of my oft-expressed wish that all men everywhere could be
free.”
This declaration of President Lincoln was reflected in every act of
every agency of his administration. It gave the cause of the Union a
spirit and character wholly apart from the cause of Emancipation. It is
needless to say that this attitude of the Federal government was not
pleasing to the Abolitionists, and the colored people in the free-states
were much disheartened. Horace Greeley voiced the impatience of this
element when, in a letter of complaint to the President, he said: “Every
hour of defense of slavery is an hour of added and deepened peril to the
Union;” and asked, “if the seeming subserviency of your policy to the
slave-holding, slavery-upholding interests, is not the perplexity and
the despair of statesmen of all parties?”
In spite of the seeming pro-slavery policy of the national
administration, Frederick Douglass was earnestly consecrating every
energy of his being to the President’s support. He was wise enough to
understand that if Lincoln in the beginning, had stated his policy to
be, not only to save the Union, but also to free the slaves, all would
have been lost. While other Abolitionists were impatient and doubtful of
Mr. Lincoln’s course, Douglass declared himself convinced that the war,
even though it be called a “white man’s war,” was nevertheless the
beginning of the end of the nation’s great evil. He still believed, and
so declared in his public speeches, that “the mission of the war was the
liberation of the slaves as well as the salvation of the Union.” “I
reproached the North,” he said, “that they fought with one hand, while
they might strike more effectively with two; that they fought with the
soft white hand, while they kept the black iron hand chained and
helpless behind them; that they fought the effect, while they protected
the cause; and said that the Union cause would never prosper until the
war assumed an anti-slavery attitude and the Negro was enlisted on the
side of the Union.”
It required time and the cumulation of events to bring about a state of
feeling that would tolerate the suggestion of using colored men in the
Union army. Mr. Douglass more than any other one man, helped to bring
about this change. It finally became evident that if the Negroes were
good enough to be employed in the Confederate ranks, as laborers, they
ought to be good enough for like service in the Union lines. In the
South, thousands of Negroes were at home, protecting the families of the
men who fought in the field, and raising crops as subsistence for the
Confederate soldiers and their wives and children; thousands more were
employed in building fortifications, digging trenches, and doing work
which otherwise would have had to be done by the men who were needed at
the front; and, anomalous as it may seem, a few colored men, it is said,
were actually enrolled and enlisted as soldiers in the Confederate army,
fighting for their own continued enslavement. The following account was
published of a procession of Southern troops in New Orleans in November,
1861: “Over 28,000 troops were reviewed by Governor Moore, Major-General
Scoville, and Brigadier-General Ruggles. The line was over seven miles
long. One regiment comprised 1,400 free colored men.”[4]
Footnote 4:
Greeley: _The American Conflict_, Vol. II, p. 522.
It was expedient that the government, in enlisting Negroes, should move
with extreme caution, not only to prevent undue irritation of Southern
feeling, but what was more serious, to avoid offending the deep-seated
prejudice against colored people in the North. It was rightly believed
that thousands of white men would refuse to enlist if Negroes were to
serve in the army on an even footing with them. Then again, the border
states, which were more or less favorable to the Union, would be
irrevocably lost to it. In due time, however, all objections were swept
aside by the pressure of black men themselves and by the needs of the
government.
Correspondents from the seat of war began to tell how a Negro regiment
at Port Royal, and certain Negro companies in Louisiana had conducted
themselves in battles for the Union, and these accounts dispelled all
doubts as to their fighting capacity. The early orders by the government
to return all fugitive slaves to their masters were no longer issued.
General Benjamin P. Butler announced that he would regard all fugitive
slaves, finding their way into his lines, as “contraband of war.”
Colored men were being employed extensively as laborers in building
fortifications, roads, entrenchments, and as cooks and other necessary
workers in support of the army. Their usefulness was so manifest that
prejudice gradually gave way to a more kindly feeling of respect. When
the white Union troops thus recognized the services, kindness, and
faithfulness of these black men, they were soon willing to tolerate them
in their ranks.
Mr. Douglass eagerly assisted in the formation of the first regularly
organized regiments of United States colored troops, the Fifty-fourth
and Fifty-fifth Massachusetts Infantry Volunteers. Governor Andrew, an
ardent Abolitionist, was justly proud of this important experiment, and
said: “I stand or fall as a man and a magistrate with the rise or fall
in the history of the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts.” Colonel Robert Gould
Shaw, who commanded the regiment, was one of the noblest sons of this
freedom-loving commonwealth.
In order to satisfy any lingering misgivings that the people might have
concerning this step by the government, it was stated that the regiments
to be enlisted would not be put into active service, being held for
garrison duty in districts where yellow fever was prevalent. It was also
decided not to give them the same pay as that allowed to the white
troops. Negro soldiers were to receive only seven dollars per month. At
Fort Wagner the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts soon had an opportunity to
show what it could do. The conduct of the men was so brave that it put
an end to all further opposition to Negro enlistment. These colored
soldiers refused to accept any reward for their services until the
government was ready to pay them what it gave to other troops. They
continued to serve and fight for the honor of the flag and the
preservation of the Union until in the following year the country voted
full pay to its black defenders. The Massachusetts volunteers, and all
Negro regiments subsequently enlisted, were officered by white men.
Mr. Douglass rendered valuable aid in getting together enough fit men
for the two New England regiments. His two sons, Lewis H. and Charles R.
Douglass, who are still living in Washington and are honored citizens,
were among the first to enlist. Their father’s influence with the
colored people of the country was so great that his services were almost
indispensable. He was distressed by the restrictions placed on these
soldiers, but said: “While I, of course, was deeply pained and saddened
by the estimate thus put upon my race, and grieved at the slowness of
heart which marked the conduct of the loyal government, I was not
discouraged, and urged every man who could enlist to get an eagle on his
button, a musket on his shoulder, and the star and spangle over his
head.” On March 2, 1863, he issued an appeal to his people which was in
part as follows:
“Men of Color, To Arms.
“When first the rebel cannon shattered the walls of Sumter and drove
away its starving garrison, I predicted that the war then and there
inaugurated would not be fought out entirely by white men. Every
month’s experience during these dreary years has confirmed that
opinion. I have implored the imperiled nation to unchain against her
foes her powerful black hand. Slowly and reluctantly that appeal is
beginning to be heeded. Stop not now to complain that it was not
heeded sooner. That it should not, may or may not have been best. This
is not the time to discuss that question. Leave it to the future. When
the war is over, the country saved, peace established, and the black
man’s rights are secured, as they will be, history with an impartial
hand will dispose of that and sundry other questions. Action! action!
not criticism, is the plain duty of this hour. Words are now useful
only as they stimulate to blows. The office of speech now is only to
point out when, where and how to strike to the best advantage. From
East to West, from North to South, the sky is written all over, ‘Now
or Never.’ Liberty won only by white men will lose half its lustre.
‘Who would be free, must themselves strike the blow.’ ‘Better, even to
die free, than to live slaves.’ This is the sentiment of every brave
colored man amongst us. There are weak and cowardly men in all races.
We have them amongst us. They tell you this is a ‘white man’s war’;
that you will ‘be no better off after the war, than you were before
the war’; that the ‘getting of you into the army is to sacrifice you
on the first opportunity.’ Believe them not. Cowards themselves, they
do not wish to have their cowardice shamed by your example. Leave them
to their timidity, or to whatever motive may hold them back. I have
not thought lightly of the words I am now addressing to you. The
counsel I give comes of close observation of the great struggle now in
progress, and of the deep conviction that this is your hour and mine.
In good earnest, then, and after the best deliberation, I now, for the
first time during this war, feel at liberty to call and counsel you to
arms. By every consideration which binds you to your enslaved fellow
countrymen, and to the peace and welfare of your country; by every
aspiration which you cherish for the freedom and equality of
yourselves and your children; by all the ties of blood and identity
which make us one with the brave black men now fighting our battles in
Louisiana and in South Carolina, I urge you to fly to arms, and smite
with death the power that would bury the government and your liberty
in the same hopeless grave. I wish I could tell you that the state of
New York calls you to this high honor. For the moment her constituted
authorities are silent on the subject. They will speak by and by, and
doubtless on the right side, but we are not compelled to wait for her.
We can get at the throat of treason and slavery through the state of
Massachusetts. She was first in the War of Independence; first to
break the chains of her slaves; first to make the black man equal
before the law; first to admit colored children to her common schools;
and she was first to answer with her blood the alarm-cry of the
nation, when its capital was menaced by rebels. You know her patriotic
governor, and you know Charles Sumner. I need not add more.
“Massachusetts now welcomes you to arms as soldiers. She has but a
small colored population from which to recruit. She has full leave of
the general government to send one regiment to the war, and she has
undertaken to do it. Go quickly and help fill up the first colored
regiment from the North. I am authorized to assure you that you will
receive the same wages, the same rations, the same equipments, the
same protection, the same treatment, and the same bounty, secured to
white soldiers. You will be led by able and skilful officers, men who
will take special pride in your efficiency and success. They will be
quick to accord to you all the honor you shall merit by your valor,
and to see that your rights and feelings are respected by other
soldiers. I have assured myself on these points. More than twenty
years of unswerving devotion to our common cause may give me some
humble claim to be trusted at this momentous crisis. I will not argue.
To do so implies hesitation and doubt, and you do not hesitate; you do
not doubt. The day dawns. The morning star is bright upon the horizon.
The iron gate of our prison stands half open. One gallant rush from
the North will fling it wide open, while four millions of our brothers
and sisters shall march out into liberty.
“The chance is now given you to end in a day the bondage of centuries
and to rise in one bound from social degradation to the place of
common equality with all other varieties of men. Remember Denmark
Vesey, of Charleston; remember Shields Green, and Copeland, who
followed noble John Brown, and fell as glorious martyrs for the cause
of the slave. Remember that in a contest with oppression, the Almighty
has no attribute which can take sides with the oppressors. The case is
before you. This is our golden opportunity. Let us accept it and
forever wipe out the dark reproaches unsparingly hurled against us by
our enemies. Let us win for ourselves the gratitude of our country,
and the best blessings of our posterity through all time. The nucleus
of this first regiment is now in camp at Readville, a short distance
from Boston. I will undertake to forward to Boston all persons
adjudged fit to be mustered into the regiment, who shall apply to me
at once, or at any time within the next two weeks.”
The immediate effect of the enlistment of colored troops in the Union
army was to call forth a feeling of resentment on the part of the white
soldiers of the South. It is asking too much of human nature to have
expected anything else. The prejudice instantly found official
expression in the proclamation by the Confederate government that it
would treat white officers of colored troops and colored soldiers when
captured, as felons; Negro Union prisoners would be shot or sent back to
slavery. This threat was literally carried out in several instances. For
nearly a year the Confederate armies pursued this course toward black
men who were caught wearing the uniform of a Union soldier.
During all this time the Federal government was silent: no word of
protest and no threat of retaliation. Horace Greeley in the _Tribune_
put the matter in strong terms when he stated that “every black soldier
now goes to battle with a halter about his neck.... The simple question
is, Shall we protect and insure to our Negro soldiers the ordinary
treatment of a prisoner of war? Every Negro yet captured has suffered
death or been sent back to the hell of slavery, from which he had
escaped.”
The colored people in the North were for a time thoroughly discouraged.
The government, it seemed to them, put a low estimate upon them as
soldiers. When Mr. Douglass was appealed to by Major George L. Stearns,
an Abolitionist, and friend of John Brown, he expressed himself in part
as follows:
“I am free to say, dear sir, that the case looks as if the confiding
colored soldiers had been betrayed into bloody hands by the government
in whose defense they had been so heroically fighting.... If the
President is ever to demand justice and humanity for black soldiers,
is not this the time for him to do it? How many Fifty-fourth men must
be cut to pieces, its mutilated prisoners killed and the living sold
into slavery or tortured to death by inches, before Mr. Lincoln shall
say, ‘Hold! Enough’?”
Appeals of this kind finally had the effect of moving the government to
action. In order himself to be sure as to just what it intended to do,
and before inducing any other colored men to go to the front, Mr.
Douglass made up his mind to see the President personally. It was, at
this time, an unheard-of thing for a colored man to go to the White
House with a grievance, but he had many influential friends and admirers
in Washington, who assured him that he would be well treated. Senators
Sumner, Wilson, and Pomeroy; Secretary of the Treasury Salmon P. Chase,
Assistant Secretary of War Dana, all guaranteed him a safe passage into
Mr. Lincoln’s presence. Senator Pomeroy introduced Mr. Douglass, and
they soon found that they had much in common. The one had traveled a
long hard journey from the slave-cabin of Maryland, and the other a
thorny road from the scant and rugged life in Kentucky, to the high
position of President. The one was too great to be a slave, and the
other too noble to remain, in such a national crisis, a private citizen.
Mr. Douglass’s account of this historic interview with the President,
the first instance of the kind, I believe, in the history of the
country, is worth reproducing:
“I was accompanied to the Executive Mansion and introduced to
President Lincoln by Senator Pomeroy. Long lines of care were already
deeply written on Mr. Lincoln’s brow, and his strong face lighted up
as soon as my name was mentioned. As I approached and was introduced
to him, he arose and extended his hand and bade me welcome. I at once
felt that I was in the presence of an honest man—one whom I could
love, honor, and trust without reserve or doubt. Proceeding to tell
him who I was and what I was doing, he promptly but kindly stopped me,
saying, ‘I know who you are, Mr. Douglass; Mr. Seward has told me
about you. Sit down. I am glad to see you.’ I then told him the object
of my visit; that I was assisting to raise colored troops; that
several months before I had been very successful in getting men to
enlist, but that now it was not easy to induce the colored men to
enter the service because there was a feeling among them that the
government did not, in several respects, deal fairly with them. Mr.
Lincoln asked me to state particulars. I replied that there were three
particulars which I wished to bring to his attention. First, that
colored soldiers ought to receive the same wages as those paid to
white soldiers. Second, that colored soldiers ought to receive the
same protection when taken prisoners, and be exchanged as readily and
on the same terms as any other prisoners, and that, if Jefferson Davis
should shoot or hang colored soldiers in cold blood, the United States
government should, without delay, retaliate in kind and degree upon
Confederate soldiers in its hands as prisoners. Third, when colored
soldiers, seeking ‘the bubble reputation, at the cannon’s mouth’
performed great and uncommon service on the battle-field, they should
be rewarded by distinction and promotion precisely as white soldiers
are rewarded for like services.
“Mr. Lincoln listened with patience and silence to all I had to say.
He was serious and even troubled by what I had said and by what he
himself had evidently before thought upon the same points. He, by his
silent listening, not less than by his earnest reply to my words,
impressed me with the solid gravity of his character.
“He began by saying that the employment of colored troops at all was a
great gain to the colored people; that the measure could not have been
successfully adopted at the beginning of the war; that the wisdom of
making colored men soldiers was still doubted; that their enlistment
was a serious offense to popular prejudice; that they had larger
motives for being soldiers than white men; that they ought to be
willing to enter the service upon condition; that the fact that they
were not to receive the same pay as white soldiers seemed a necessary
concession to smooth the way to their employment at all as soldiers,
but that ultimately they would receive the same. On the second point,
in respect to equal protection he said the case was more difficult.
Retaliation was a terrible remedy, and one which it was very difficult
to apply; that, if once begun, there was no telling where it would
end; that if he could get hold of the Confederate soldiers who had
been guilty of treating colored soldiers as felons he could easily
retaliate, but the thought of hanging men for a crime perpetrated by
others was revolting to his feelings. He thought that the rebels
themselves would stop such barbarous warfare; that less evil would be
done if retaliation were not resorted to and that he had already
received information that colored soldiers were being treated as
prisoners of war. In all this I saw the tender heart of the man rather
than the stern warrior and commander-in-chief of the American army and
navy, and while I could not agree with him, I could but respect his
humane spirit.
“On the third point he seemed to have less difficulty, though he did
not absolutely commit himself. He simply said that he would sign any
commission to colored soldiers whom his Secretary of War should
commend to him. Though I was not entirely satisfied with his views, I
was so well satisfied with the man and with the educating tendency of
the conflict that I determined to go on with the recruiting.”
From the White House, Mr. Douglass went directly to the War Department
and had an interview with Stanton. Contrary to his expectation, he found
the Secretary most cordial, listening to the complaints with interest
and patience. Douglass says that Stanton made “the best defense that I
had heard from any one of the treatment of colored soldiers by the
government. I was not satisfied, yet I left in the full belief that the
true course to the black man’s freedom and citizenship was over the
battle-field and that my business was to get every black man I could
into the Union army.
“Both the President and Secretary assured me that justice would
ultimately be done to my race and,” he adds, “I gave full credit and
faith to these promises.” He was now better than ever prepared to say to
his people that, if they would be free, they must not be afraid to
suffer injustice and, if need be, cruelty.
In his interview with Mr. Stanton, the question came up as to the
advisability of commissioning colored men as officers of colored
regiments. The Secretary expressed his willingness and readiness to
issue a commission to Mr. Douglass, if he would accept. On being assured
that he would, Stanton promised to make him assistant adjutant to
General Thomas, who was recruiting and organizing troops in Mississippi.
He returned to his home in Rochester, N. Y., confidently expecting that
the commission would be sent him, but for some reason, not explained, it
was never issued. Mr. Douglass’s only comment on this lapse of the
Secretary of War was: “The government, I fear, was still clinging to the
idea that positions of honor in the service should be occupied by white
men and that it would not do to inaugurate the policy of perfect
equality.”
At length the outlook improved. Signs appeared of better treatment of
the colored soldiers by the Confederate armies. On July 30, 1863,
President Lincoln issued an order “that for every soldier of the United
States killed in violation of the laws of war, a rebel soldier shall be
executed; and for every one enslaved by the enemy or sold into slavery,
a rebel soldier shall be placed at hard labor on the public works.” All
the Union generals readily coöperated with the President’s efforts to
have his black troops receive equal consideration. General Grant was
especially interested in this matter and gave instructions to the white
men in his ranks to treat the colored soldiers as comrades.
The Negro troops, by their soldierly qualities, displayed at Fort
Wagner, Vicksburg, Port Hudson, Morris Island, and other places, had
fully earned the right to honorable treatment, and such deserving had
its good effects. When the government finally recognized the services of
its black defenders, there was no trouble in getting the colored men to
enlist. From each state and territory in and out of the Union, they
offered themselves to the Federal government with as much eagerness as
if they were already in possession of every right they hoped to receive.
The following table of figures will show how largely black men responded
to President Lincoln’s call to the defense of the Union:
Connecticut 1,764
Maine 104
Massachusetts 3,966
New Hampshire 125
Rhode Island 1,837
Vermont 120
New Jersey 1,185
New York 4,125
Pennsylvania 8,612
Colorado 95
Illinois 1,811
Indiana 1,537
Iowa 440
Kansas 2,080
Minnesota 104
Michigan 1,387
Ohio 5,092
Wisconsin 165
Delaware 954
District of Columbia 3,269
Kentucky 23,703
Maryland 8,718
Missouri 8,344
West Virginia 196
Alabama 4,969
Arkansas 5,526
Florida 1,044
Louisiana 3,480
Mississippi 17,869
North Carolina 5,035
South Carolina 5,462
Tennessee 20,123
Texas 47
At large 733
Not accounted for 5,083
Officers 7,122
———————
Total 186,017[5]
Footnote 5:
_History of the Negro Race in America_, George W. Williams, Vol. II,
p. 299.
In addition to this impressive total it is estimated that there were
about 92,576 colored men serving with regiments in other capacities.
That the Negroes proved to be good soldiers, whenever or wherever their
fibre was put to trial, is the unvarying testimony of every officer and
commander who had any opportunity to know their conduct in the field.
The exigencies of the war were such that the troops thus furnished were
sorely needed. The whole fighting strength of the North was none too
great to cope with the Southern armies, and the enlistment of black men
was effected at a critical moment in the struggle.
From another point of view, this employment of colored troops with their
good conduct on the field was an important event in the history of the
Negro. It was the first opportunity given to him to demonstrate, on a
large scale, that he was superior to the estimate put upon him at that
time by the American people. The current of popular feeling against the
race rapidly changed. The Southern soldiers also altered their attitude
when they discovered in black skin courage and character worthy of honor
and respect.
On both sides of the firing-line the colored men proved themselves to be
friends of the white race. They shrank from no danger, however great;
they refused no task, however difficult; but worked, and fought, and
died without complaint. Negro men and women, as non-combatants, secretly
fed, hid, and protected thousands of Union soldiers who were in perilous
positions and without a friend or hope of favor in a hostile country.
Many a man in blue owed life and liberty to the nursing and protection
of some tender-hearted slave. It was to the care and devotion of these
same humble folk that the Southern masters, when summoned to war,
entrusted the cultivation of their lands and the lives and property of
their families. The Negro was the “good Samaritan” in those terrible
days, when white men were savagely bent upon destroying one another.
The armies on both sides of the conflict were indebted to the black man
as friend and as fighter. In the South, he fought against himself; in
the North, he fought for himself. In helping to save the Union by his
service and by his death on battlefields, he put himself in a position
to claim a share in the fruits of reëstablished peace, and in the
good-will of a reunited country. In view of his recorded part in this
civil contest, it can never be said that the Negro was a mere passive
recipient of the freedom that came to all the members of his race.
After the government had fully committed itself to the policy of
enlisting colored men in the Union army, the struggle began to assume
the character of a war for liberty. It became so as a military
necessity. President Lincoln’s Proclamation of Emancipation, issued on
the first day of January, 1863, sounded the death-knell of slavery, and
was an expression of a changed attitude on the part of the government
and of the people generally, foretelling the end of the war.
The President had been criticised by the Abolitionists, because he chose
to fight battles for the preservation of the Union, rather than for the
extirpation of slavery. If Douglass had ever faltered in his faith in
Mr. Lincoln’s desire for Abolition, he was reassured by an incident
which occurred at this time. Shortly after the Proclamation was issued,
the President summoned him to the White House. He reports that Mr.
Lincoln was somewhat anxious because the slaves in the South were not
coming into the Union lines as fast as he expected and wished. He said
that he might be forced into arrangements for peace before his purposes
could be realized, and if so, he wanted the greatest possible number of
slaves within the territory of freedom. The President thought that
Douglass could, in some way, bring his Proclamation to the knowledge of
the Negroes, and organize raiding parties, which would aid them to
escape from bondage and reach Union ground. Referring to this interview
Mr. Douglass said:
“Mr. Lincoln saw the danger of premature peace, and like a thoughtful
and sagacious man, he wished to provide means of rendering such
consummation as harmless as possible. I was most impressed by this
benevolent consideration because he had before said, in answer to the
peace clamor, that his object was to save the Union.... What he said
on this day showed a deeper moral conviction against slavery than I
had ever seen before in anything spoken or written by him. I listened
with the deepest interest and profoundest satisfaction and at his
suggestion agreed to undertake the organization of a band of
scouts, ... and urge the slaves to come within our boundaries.”
This plan, however, was soon rendered unnecessary by Union victories in
the field and a better military outlook.
Two incidents occurred at this meeting which showed the President’s
strong and almost affectionate regard for Frederick Douglass. What these
were are best told by Douglass himself. He says: “While in conversation
with him, his secretary twice announced Governor Buckingham of
Connecticut, one of the noblest and most patriotic of the loyal
governors. Mr. Lincoln said: ‘Tell Governor Buckingham to wait, for I
want to have a long talk with my friend, Frederick Douglass.’ I
interposed and begged him to see the governor at once, as I could wait,
but no, he persisted that he wanted to talk with me and that Governor
Buckingham could wait.... In his company I was never in any way reminded
of my humble origin, or of my unpopular color.”
The other pleasing incident of this visit is likewise best told in
Douglass’s own words: “At the door of my friend, John A. Gray, where I
was stopping in Washington, I found one afternoon the carriage of
Secretary Dole, and a messenger from President Lincoln with an
invitation for me to take tea with him at the Soldiers’ Home, where he
then passed his nights, riding out after the business of the day was
over at the Executive Mansion. Unfortunately, I had an engagement to
speak that evening and having made it one of the rules of my conduct in
life never to break an engagement if possible to keep it, I felt obliged
to decline the honor. I have often regretted that I did not make this an
exception to my general rule. Could I have known that no such
opportunity could come to me again, I should have justified myself in
disappointing a large audience for the sake of a visit with Abraham
Lincoln.”
The Emancipation Proclamation, as Mr. Douglass at the time said, was
“the turning point in the conflict between freedom and slavery.” He and
his race lived through the first two years of the administration of the
“party of liberty,” in a kind of agony of hope and doubt. What the
colored race, North and South, wanted in a hurry came with slowness. As
the time approached for the word of deliverance, the country was in a
state of feverish excitement. For those who had been connected with the
movement for Abolition, everything else, for the moment, seemed to lose
its interest, its importance, and its value in the presence of this
impending event. Indeed, the whole country vibrated with expectation.
In Tremont Temple, in Boston, on the day when Mr. Lincoln’s Proclamation
was looked for, there was gathered a memorable company. Many of the most
notable men in New England were present to join with the colored people
in the song of jubilee. To quote Mr. Douglass: “A line of messengers was
established between the telegraph office and the platform, and the time
was occupied with brief speeches from Hon. Thomas Russell, Anna
Dickinson, J. Sella Martin, William Wells Brown, and myself.... At last
when patience was well-nigh exhausted and suspense was becoming agony, a
man, I think Judge Russell, with hasty step advanced through the crowd
and with a face fairly illumined with the news he bore, exclaimed, in
tones that thrilled all hearts: ‘It is coming, it is on the wires.’ The
effect of this announcement was startling beyond description, and the
scene was wild and grand.”
When the message finally came and was read, there was a scene of
indescribable rejoicing. The crowd was so crazy with excitement that
midnight came upon them before they were aware of it and they adjourned
to a colored Baptist church where the jubilation did not fully exhaust
itself until morning. Mr. Douglass described it as “the most affecting
and thrilling occasion I ever witnessed and a worthy celebration of the
first step on the part of the nation in its departure from the thraldom
of ages.”
The Proclamation put new energy into all war measures and as the four
years of Mr. Lincoln’s first administration approached the end, there
was no one to oppose him for a renomination. His reëlection seemed to be
an overwhelming vindication of his policy. Frederick Douglass was a
prominent figure at the inauguration ceremonies and was looking
gratefully and joyously up into the kindly face of the great President
when he uttered these noble words: “Fondly do we hope, and fervently do
we pray that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet if
God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsmen’s
two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until
every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid for by another
drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it
must be said, that ‘the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous
altogether.’”
Speaking of this event Mr. Douglass said:
“In the evening of the day of the inauguration, another new experience
awaited me. The usual reception was given at the Executive Mansion,
and though no colored person had ever ventured to present himself on
such an occasion, it seemed, now that freedom had become the law of
the republic, and colored men were on the battle-field mingling their
blood with that of white men in one common effort to save the country,
that it was not too great an assumption for a colored man to offer his
congratulations to the President with those of other citizens. It is
never an agreeable experience to go where there can be any doubt of
welcome, and my colored friends had too often realized discomfiture
from this cause to be willing to subject themselves to such
unhappiness. It was plain, then, that some one must lead the way, and
that if the colored man would have his rights, he must take them; and
now, though it was plainly quite the thing for me to attend President
Lincoln’s reception, they all with one accord began to make excuses.
It was finally agreed that Mrs. Dorsey should bear me company, so
together we joined in the grand procession of citizens from all parts
of the country and moved slowly toward the Executive Mansion. Upon
reaching the door, two policemen stationed there took me rudely by the
arm and ordered me to stand back, for their directions were to admit
no persons of my color. I told the officers I was quite sure there was
some mistake for no such order could have emanated from President
Lincoln; and that if he knew I was at the door, he would desire my
admission. They then, to put an end to the parley, as I suppose,
assumed an air of politeness, and offered to conduct me in. We
followed their lead, and we soon found ourselves walking some planks
out of a window, which had been arranged as a temporary passage for
the exit of visitors. We halted as soon as we saw the trick, and I
said to the officers, ‘You have deceived me. I shall not go out of
this building till I see President Lincoln.’ At this moment a
gentleman who was passing in, recognized me, and I said to him: ‘Be so
kind as to say to Mr. Lincoln that Frederick Douglass is detained by
officers at the door.’ It was not long before Mrs. Dorsey and I walked
into the spacious East Room, amid a scene of elegance such as in this
country I had never before witnessed. Like a mountain pine, high above
all others, Mr. Lincoln stood, in his grand simplicity and home-like
beauty. Recognizing me, even before I reached him, he exclaimed, so
that all around could hear him, ‘Here comes my friend Douglass.’
Taking me by the hand, he said, ‘I am glad to see you. I saw you in
the crowd to-day listening to my inaugural address. How did you like
it?’ I said, ‘Mr. Lincoln, I must not detain you with my poor opinion,
when there are thousands waiting to shake hands with you.’ ‘No, no,’
he said, ‘you must stop a little, Douglass; there is no man in the
country whose opinion I value more than yours. I want to know what you
think of it.’ I replied, ‘Mr. Lincoln, that was a sacred effort.’ ‘I
am glad you liked it,’ he said; and I passed on, feeling that any man,
however distinguished, might well regard himself honored by such
expressions from such a man.”
The events of the war moved rapidly toward the end and to peace. Mr.
Douglass was in Boston when Richmond was captured. New England was more
stirred over the fall of the Confederate capital than by any other
single event of the war, except the Emancipation Proclamation. Faneuil
Hall was again the scene of a great gathering. The victory was to be
celebrated in song and speech. The governor of the state, Senator
Wilson, and Robert C. Winthrop were among the speakers, and with them
was Frederick Douglass. A meeting of this kind anywhere in New England
would at that time have been incomplete without him. His presence on the
platform, sharing honors with the patrician Winthrop, served to
illustrate the change of fortunes that are possible under a democratic
form of government. Less than twenty-five years before, Douglass, a
fugitive from Maryland, had stood behind Mr. Winthrop’s chair at table
as a waiter, at a dinner in his honor in New Bedford. He had won the
position he now occupied by his services to a people whose cause men in
the North had come at length to recognize as their own, because it was
the cause of humanity.
Mr. Douglass at this time had reason to feel not only joy but gratitude.
It was clear that all he had hoped and struggled for was soon to be
realized. The close of the war and the overthrow of the institution of
slavery was for him a sort of personal victory. But his rejoicing was
soon turned to mourning. At the time of the assassination of President
Lincoln he was in Rochester, and he spoke at a meeting held to give
expression to the sorrow which that event created. The circumstances are
thus related by a friend:
“Rochester court-house never held a larger crowd than was gathered to
mourn over the martyred President. The meeting was opened by the most
eloquent men at the bar and in the pulpit, with carefully prepared and
earnestly uttered addresses. All the time the people were not aroused.
Douglass, who told me that he would not speak because he was not
invited, sat crowded in the rear. At last the feeling could be
restrained no more; and his name burst upon the air from every side and
filled the house. The dignified gentlemen who directed had to surrender.
Then came the finest appeal in behalf of the father of his people, who
had died for them especially, and would be mourned by them as long as
one remained in America who had been a slave. I have heard Webster and
Clay in their best moments; Channing and Beecher in their highest
inspirations. I never heard truer eloquence; I never saw profounder
impression. When he finished the meeting was done.”