By no means the least of the evils of slavery was a dread which had
haunted every southern household from the beginning of the government
that the slaves might one day rise in revolt and take sudden vengeance
upon their masters. This vague terror was greatly increased by the
outbreak of the Civil War. It stands to the lasting credit of the negro
race that the wrongs of their long bondage provoked them to no such
crime, and that the war seems not to have suggested, much less started
any such attempt. Indeed, even when urged to violence by white leaders,
as the slaves of Maryland had been in 1859 during John Brown's raid at
Harper's Ferry, they had refused to respond. Nevertheless it was plain
from the first that slavery was to play an important part in the Civil
War. Not only were the people of the South battling for the principle
of slavery; their slaves were a great source of military strength. They
were used by the Confederates in building forts, hauling supplies, and
in a hundred ways that added to the effectiveness of their armies in the
field. On the other hand the very first result of the war was to give
adventurous or discontented slaves a chance to escape into Union camps,
where, even against orders to the contrary, they found protection for
the sake of the help they could give as cooks, servants, or teamsters,
the information they brought about the movements of the enemy, or the
great service they were able to render as guides. Practically therefore,
at the very start, the war created a bond of mutual sympathy between
the southern negro and the Union volunteer; and as fast as Union troops
advanced and secession masters fled, a certain number found freedom in
Union camps.
At some points this became a positive embarrassment to Union commanders.
A few days after General Butler took command of the Union troops at
Fortress Monroe in May, 1861, the agent of a rebel master came to insist
on the return of three slaves, demanding them under the fugitive-slave
law. Butler replied that since their master claimed Virginia to be a
foreign country and no longer a part of the United States, he could not
at the same time claim that the fugitive slave law was in force, and
that his slaves would not be given up unless he returned and took the
oath of allegiance to the United States. In reporting this, a newspaper
pointed out that as the breastworks and batteries which had risen so
rapidly for Confederate defense were built by slave labor, negroes
were undoubtedly "contraband of war," like powder and shot, and other
military supplies, and should no more be given back to the rebels than
so many cannon or guns. The idea was so pertinent, and the justice of it
so plain that the name "contraband" sprang at once into use. But while
this happy explanation had more convincing effect on popular thought
than a volume of discussion, it did not solve the whole question. By
the end of July General Butler had on his hands 900 "contrabands," men,
women and children of all ages, and he wrote to inquire what was their
real condition. Were they slaves or free? Could they be considered
fugitive slaves when their masters had run away and left them? How
should they be disposed of? It was a knotty problem, and upon its
solution might depend the loyalty or secession of the border slave
States of Maryland, West Virginia, Kentucky and Missouri, which, up to
that time, had not decided whether to remain in the Union or to cast
their fortunes with the South.
In dealing with this perplexing subject. Mr. Lincoln kept in mind one of
his favorite stories: the one on the Methodist Presiding Elder who was
riding about his circuit during the spring freshets. A young and anxious
companion asked how they should ever be able to cross the swollen waters
of Fox River, which they were approaching, and the elder quieted him
by saying that he made it the rule of his life never to cross Fox
River until he came to it. The President, following this rule, did
not immediately decide the question, but left it to be treated at the
discretion of each commander. Under this theory some commanders admitted
black people to their camps, while others refused to receive them. The
curt formula of General Orders: "We are neither negro stealers nor negro
catchers," was easily read to justify either course. Congress greatly
advanced the problem, shortly after the battle of Bull Run, by passing
a law which took away a master's right to his slave, when, with his
consent, such slave was employed in service or labor hostile to the
United States.
On the general question of slavery, the President's mind was fully made
up. He felt that he had no right to interfere with slavery where slavery
was lawful, just because he himself did not happen to like it; for he
had sworn to do all in his power to "preserve, protect and defend" the
government and its laws, and slavery was lawful in the southern States.
When freeing the slaves should become necessary in order to preserve
the Government, then it would be his duty to free them; until that time
came, it was equally his duty to let them alone.
Twice during the early part of the war military commanders issued orders
freeing slaves in the districts over which they had control, and twice
he refused to allow these orders to stand. "No commanding general should
do such a thing upon his responsibility, without consulting him," he
said; and he added that whether he, as Commander-in-Chief, had the power
to free slaves, and whether at any time the use of such power should
become necessary, were questions which he reserved to himself. He did
not feel justified in leaving such decisions to commanders in the field.
He even refused at that time to allow Secretary Cameron to make a public
announcement that the government might find it necessary to arm slaves
and employ them as soldiers. He would not cross Fox River until he came
to it. He would not take any measure until he felt it to be absolutely
necessary.
Only a few months later he issued his first proclamation of
emancipation; but he did not do so until convinced that he must do this
in order to put down the rebellion. Long ago he had considered and in
his own mind adopted a plan of dealing with the slavery question--the
simple, easy plan which, while a member of Congress, he had proposed
for the District of Columbia--that on condition of the slave-owners
voluntarily giving up their slaves, they should be paid a fair price for
them by the Federal government. Delaware was a slave State, and seemed
an excellent place in which to try this experiment of "compensated
emancipation," as it was called; for there were, all told, only 1798
slaves left in the State. Without any public announcement of his purpose
he offered to the citizens of Delaware, through their representative in
Congress, four hundred dollars for each of these slaves, the payment
to be made, not all at once, but yearly, during a period of thirty-one
years. He believed that if Delaware could be induced to accept this
offer, Maryland might follow her example, and that afterward other
States would allow themselves to be led along the same easy way. The
Delaware House of Representatives voted in favor of the proposition, but
five of the nine members of the Delaware senate scornfully repelled the
"abolition bribe," as they chose to call it, and the project withered in
the bud.
Mr. Lincoln did not stop at this failure, but, on March 6, 1862, sent a
special message to the Senate and House of Representatives recommending
that Congress adopt a joint resolution favoring and practically offering
gradual compensated emancipation to any State that saw fit to accept
it; pointing out at the same time that the Federal government claimed no
right to interfere with slavery within the States, and that if the offer
were accepted it must be done as a matter of free choice.
The Republican journals of the North devoted considerable space to
discussing the President's plan, which, in the main, was favorably
received; but it was thought that it must fail on the score of expense.
The President answered this objection in a private letter to a Senator,
proving that less than one-half day's cost of war would pay for all
the slaves in Delaware at four hundred dollars each, and less than
eighty-seven days' cost of war would pay for all in Delaware, Maryland,
the District of Columbia, Kentucky and Missouri. "Do you doubt," he
asked, that taking such a step "on the part of those States and this
District would shorten the war more than eighty-seven days, and thus be
an actual saving of expense?"
Both houses of Congress favored the resolution, and also passed a
bill immediately freeing the slaves in the District of Columbia on the
payment to their loyal owners of three hundred dollars for each slave.
This last bill was signed by the President and became a law on April 16,
1862. So, although he had been unable to bring it about when a member of
Congress thirteen years before, it was he, after all, who finally swept
away that scandal of the "negro livery-stable" in the shadow of the dome
of the Capitol.
Congress as well as the President was thus pledged to compensated
emancipation, and if any of the border slave States had shown a
willingness to accept the generosity of the government, their people
might have been spared the loss that overtook all slave-owners on the
first of January, 1863. The President twice called the representatives
and senators of these States to the White House, and urged his plan most
eloquently, but nothing came of it. Meantime, the military situation
continued most discouraging. The advance of the Army of the Potomac
upon Richmond became a retreat; the commanders in the West could not get
control of the Mississippi River; and worst of all, in spite of their
cheering assurance that "We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred
thousand strong," the people of the country were saddened and filled
with the most gloomy forebodings because of the President's call for so
many new troops.
"It had got to be midsummer, 1862," Mr. Lincoln said, in telling an
artist friend the history of his most famous official act. "Things had
gone on from bad to worse, until I felt that we had reached the end of
our rope on the plan of operations we had been pursuing; that we had
about played our last card, and must change our tactics or lose the
game. I now determined upon the adoption of the emancipation policy, and
without consultation with, or the knowledge of the cabinet, I prepared
the original draft of the proclamation, and after much anxious thought,
called a cabinet meeting upon the subject.... I said to the cabinet that
I had resolved upon this step, and had not called them together to ask
their advice, but to lay the subject-matter of a proclamation before
them, suggestions as to which would be in order after they had heard it
read."
It was on July 22 that the President read to his cabinet the draft of
this first emancipation proclamation, which, after announcing that
at the next meeting of Congress he would again offer compensated
emancipation to such States as chose to accept it, went on to order as
Commander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy of the United States, that the
slaves in all States which should be in rebellion against the government
on January 1, 1863, should "then, thenceforward and forever be free."
Mr. Lincoln had given a hint of this intended step to Mr. Seward and
Mr. Welles, but to all the other members of the cabinet it came as a
complete surprise. One thought it would cost the Republicans the fall
elections. Another preferred that emancipation should be proclaimed
by military commanders in their several military districts. Secretary
Seward, while approving the measure, suggested that it would better
be postponed until it could be given to the country after a victory,
instead of issuing it, as would be the case then, upon the greatest
disasters of the war. "The wisdom of the view of the Secretary of State
struck me with very great force," Mr. Lincoln's recital continues. "It
was an aspect of the case that, in all my thought upon the subject,
I had entirely overlooked. The result was that I put the draft of the
proclamation aside, as you do your sketch for a picture, waiting for a
victory."
The secrets of the administration were well kept, and no hint came
to the public that the President had proposed such a measure to his
cabinet. As there was at the moment little in the way of war news to
attract attention, newspapers and private individuals turned a sharp
fire of criticism upon Mr. Lincoln. For this they seized upon the
ever-useful text of the slavery question. Some of them protested
indignantly that the President was going too fast; others clamored as
loudly that he had been altogether too slow. His decision, as we know,
was unalterably taken, although he was not yet ready to announce it.
Therefore, while waiting for a victory he had to perform the difficult
task of restraining the impatience of both sides. This he did in very
positive language. To a man in Louisiana, who complained that Union
feeling was being crushed out by the army in that State, he wrote:
"I am a patient man, always willing to forgive on the Christian terms
of repentance, and also to give ample time for repentance. Still, I must
save this government if possible. What I cannot do, of course I will
not do; but it may as well be understood, once for all, that I shall not
surrender this game leaving any available card unplayed." Two days later
he answered another Louisiana critic. "What would you do in my position?
Would you drop the war where it is? Or would you prosecute it in future
with elder-stalk squirts charged with rosewater? Would you deal lighter
blows rather than heavier ones? Would you give up the contest leaving
any available means unapplied? I am in no boastful mood. I shall not do
more than I can, and I shall do all I can, to save the government, which
is my sworn duty, as well as my personal inclination. I shall do nothing
in malice. What I deal with is too vast for malicious dealing."
The President could afford to overlook the abuse of hostile newspapers,
but he also had to meet the criticisms of over-zealous Republicans. The
prominent Republican editor, Horace Greeley, printed in his paper, the
"New York Tribune," a long "Open Letter," ostentatiously addressed to
Mr. Lincoln, full of unjust accusations, his general charge being that
the President and many army officers were neglecting their duty through
a kindly feeling for slavery. The open letter which Mr. Lincoln wrote in
reply is remarkable not alone for the skill with which he answered this
attack, but also for its great dignity.
"As to the policy I 'seem to be pursuing,' as you say, I have not meant
to leave anyone in doubt.... My paramount object in this struggle is to
save the Union, and is not either to save or to 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
shall believe what I am doing hurts the cause, and I shall do more
whenever I shall 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 here 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."
He was waiting for victory, but victory was slow to come. Instead the
Union army suffered another defeat at the second battle of Bull Run on
August 30, 1862. After this the pressure upon him to take some action
upon slavery became stronger than ever. On September 13 he was visited
by a company of ministers from the churches of Chicago, who came
expressly to urge him to free the slaves at once. In the actual
condition of things he could of course neither safely satisfy them nor
deny them, and his reply, while perfectly courteous, had in it a tone of
rebuke that showed the state of irritation and high sensitiveness under
which he was living:
"I am approached with the most opposite opinions and advice, and that
by religious men, who are equally certain that they represent the Divine
will.... 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.... What good would a proclamation of emancipation from me do,
especially as we are now situated? I do not want to issue a document
that the whole world will see must necessarily be inoperative, like the
Pope's bull against the comet." "Do not misunderstand me.... I have not
decided against a proclamation of liberty to the slaves; but 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. Whatever shall appear to be
God's will, I will do."
Four days after this interview the battle of Antietam was fought, and
when, after a few days of uncertainty it was found that it could be
reasonably claimed as a Union victory, the President resolved to carry
out his long-matured purpose. Secretary Chase in his diary recorded very
fully what occurred on that ever-memorable September 22, 1862. After
some playful talk upon other matters, Mr. Lincoln, taking a graver tone,
said:
"Gentlemen: I have, as you are aware, thought a great deal about the
relation of this war to slavery, and you all remember that several weeks
ago I read to you an order I had prepared on this subject, which, on
account of objections made by some of you, was not issued. Ever since
then my mind has been much occupied with this subject, and I have
thought, all along, that the time for acting on it might probably come.
I think the time has come now. I wish it was a better time. I wish that
we were in a better condition. The action of the army against the rebels
has not been quite what I should have best liked. But they have been
driven out of Maryland, and Pennsylvania is no longer in danger of
invasion. When the rebel army was at Frederick I determined, as soon
as it should be driven out of Maryland, to issue a proclamation of
emancipation, such as I thought most likely to be useful. I said
nothing to anyone, but I made the promise to myself, and--[hesitating a
little]--to my Maker. The rebel army is now driven out, and I am going
to fulfil that promise. I have got you together to hear what I have
written down. I do not wish your advice about the main matter, for that
I have determined for myself. This I say, without intending anything but
respect for any one of you. But I already know the views of each on this
question.... I have considered them as thoroughly and carefully as I
can. What I have written is that which my reflections have determined me
to say. If there is anything in the expressions I use, or in any minor
matter which any one of you thinks had best be changed, I shall be glad
to receive the suggestions. One other observation I will make. I know
very well that many others might, in this matter as in others, do better
than I can; and if I was satisfied that the public confidence was
more fully possessed by any one of them than by me, and knew of any
constitutional way in which he could be put in my place, he should have
it. I would gladly yield it to him. But, though I believe that I have
not so much of the confidence of the people as I had some time since, I
do not know that, all things considered, any other person has more; and
however this may be, there is no way in which I can have any other
man put where I am. I am here; I must do the best I can, and bear the
responsibility of taking the course which I feel I ought to take."
It was in this humble spirit, and with this firm sense of duty that the
great proclamation was given to the world. One hundred days later he
completed the act by issuing the final proclamation of emancipation.
It has been a long-established custom in Washington for the officials
of the government to go on the first day of January to the Executive
Mansion to pay their respects to the President and his wife. The judges
of the courts go at one hour, the foreign diplomats at another, members
of Congress and senators and officers of the Army and Navy at still
another. One by one these various official bodies pass in rapid
succession before the head of the nation, wishing him success and
prosperity in the New Year. The occasion is made gay with music and
flowers and bright uniforms, and has a social as well as an official
character. Even in war times such customs were kept up, and in spite of
his load of care, the President was expected to find time and heart for
the greetings and questions and hand-shakings of this and other state
ceremonies. Ordinarily it was not hard for him. He liked to meet people,
and such occasions were a positive relief from the mental strain of his
official work. It is to be questioned, however, whether, on this day,
his mind did not leave the passing stream of people before him, to dwell
on the proclamation he was so soon to sign.
At about three o'clock in the afternoon, after full three hours of such
greetings and handshakings, when his own hand was so weary it could
scarcely hold a pen, the President and perhaps a dozen friends, went up
to the Executive Office, and there, without any pre-arranged ceremony,
he signed his name to the greatest state paper of the century, which
banished the curse of slavery from our land, and set almost four million
people free.