"It is so, Sir. Whoever tells you otherwise deceives you. I think I know
Northern sentiment, and I assure you it is so. You know we have a system
of lyceum-lecturing in our large towns. At the close of these lectures,
it is the custom of the people to come upon the platform and talk with
the lecturer. This gives him an excellent opportunity of learning public
sentiment. Last winter I lectured before nearly a hundred of such
associations, all over the North,--from Dubuque to Bangor,--and I took
pains to ascertain the feeling of the people. I found a unanimous
determination to crush the Rebellion and save the Union at every
sacrifice. The majority are in favor of Mr. Lincoln, and nearly all of
those opposed to him are opposed to him because they think he does not
fight you with enough vigor. The radical Republicans, who go for
slave-suffrage and thorough confiscation, are those who will defeat him,
if he is defeated. But if he is defeated before the people, the House
will elect a worse man,--I mean, worse for you. It is more radical than
he is,--you can see that from Mr. Ashley's Reconstruction Bill,--and the
people are more radical than the House. Mr. Lincoln, I know, is about to
call out five hundred thousand more men, and I can't see how you _can_
resist much longer; but if you do, you will only deepen the radical
feeling of the Northern people. They will now give you fair, honorable,
_generous_ terms; but let them suffer much more, let there be a dead man
in every house, as there is now in every village, and they will give you
_no_ terms,--they will insist on hanging every Rebel south of ----.
Pardon my terms. I mean no offence."
"You give no offence," he replied, smiling very, pleasantly. "I wouldn't
have you pick your words. This is a frank, free talk, and I like you the
better for saying what you think. Go on."
"I was merely going to say, that, let the Northern people once really
feel the war,--they do not feel it yet,--and they will insist on hanging
every one of your leaders."
"Well, admitting all you say, I can't see how it affects our position.
There are some things worse than hanging or extermination. We reckon
giving up the right of self-government one of those things."
"By self-government you mean disunion,--Southern Independence?"
"Yes."
"And slavery, you say, is no longer an element in the contest."
"No, it is not, it never was an _essential_ element. It was only a means
of bringing other conflicting elements to an earlier culmination. It
fired the musket which was already capped and loaded. There are
essential differences between the North and the South that will, however
this war may end, make them two nations."
"You ask me to say what I think. Will you allow me to say that I know
the South pretty well, and never observed those differences?"
"Then you have not used your eyes. My sight is poorer than yours, but I
have seen them for years."
The laugh was upon me, and Mr. Benjamin enjoyed it.
"Well, Sir, be that as it may, if I understand you, the dispute between
your government and ours is narrowed down to this: Union or Disunion."
"Yes; or to put it in other words: Independence or Subjugation."
"Then the two governments are irreconcilably apart. They have no
alternative but to fight it out. But it is not so with the people. They
are tired of fighting, and want peace; and as they bear all the burden
and suffering of the war, is it not right they should have peace, and
have it on such terms as they like?"
"I don't understand you. Be a little more explicit."
"Well, suppose the two governments should agree to something like this:
To go to the people with two propositions: say, Peace, with Disunion and
Southern Independence, as your proposition,--and Peace, with Union,
Emancipation, No Confiscation, and Universal Amnesty, as ours. Let the
citizens of all the United States (as they existed before the war) vote
'Yes,' or 'No,' on these two propositions, at a special election within
sixty days. If a majority votes Disunion, our government to be bound by
it, and to let you go in peace. If a majority votes Union, yours to be
bound by it, and to stay in peace. The two governments can contract in
this way, and the people, though constitutionally unable to decide on
peace or war, can elect which of the two propositions shall govern their
rulers. Let Lee and Grant, meanwhile, agree to an armistice. This would
sheathe the sword; and if once sheathed, it would never again be drawn
by this generation."
"The plan is altogether impracticable. If the South were only one State,
it might work; but as it is, if one Southern State objected to
emancipation, it would nullify the whole thing; for you are aware the
people of Virginia cannot vote slavery out of South Carolina, nor the
people of South Carolina vote it out of Virginia."
"But three-fourths of the States can amend the Constitution. Let it be
done in that way,--in any way, so that it be done by the people. I am
not a statesman or a politician, and I do not know just how such a plan
could be carried out; but you get the idea,--that the PEOPLE shall
decide the question."
"That the _majority_ shall decide it, you mean. We seceded to rid
ourselves of the rule of the majority, and this would subject us to it
again."
"But the majority must rule finally, either with bullets or ballots."
"I am not so sure of that. Neither current events nor history shows that
the majority rules, or ever did rule. The contrary, I think, is true.
Why, Sir, the man who should go before the Southern people with such a
proposition, with _any_ proposition which implied that the North was to
have a voice in determining the domestic relations of the South, could
not live here a day. He would be hanged to the first tree, without judge
or jury."
"Allow me to doubt that. I think it more likely he would be hanged, if
he let the Southern people know the majority couldn't rule," I replied,
smiling.
"I have no fear of that," rejoined Mr. Davis, also smiling most
good-humoredly. "I give you leave to proclaim it from every house-top in
the South."
"But, seriously, Sir, you let the majority rule in a single State; why
not let it rule in the whole country?"
"Because the States are independent and sovereign. The country is not.
It is only a confederation of States; or rather it _was_: it is now
_two_ confederations."
"Then we are not a _people_,--we are only a political partnership?"
"That is all."
"Your very name, Sir, '_United_ States,' implies that," said Mr.
Benjamin. "But, tell me, are the terms you have named--Emancipation, No
Confiscation, and Universal Amnesty--the terms which Mr. Lincoln
authorized you to offer us?"
"No, Sir, Mr. Lincoln did not authorize me to offer you any terms. But I
_think_ both he and the Northern people, for the sake of peace, would
assent to some such conditions."
"They are _very_ generous," replied Mr. Davis, for the first time during
the interview showing some angry feeling. "But Amnesty, Sir, applies to
criminals. We have committed no crime. Confiscation is of no account,
unless you can enforce it. And Emancipation! You have already
emancipated nearly two millions of our slaves,--and if you will take
care of them, you may emancipate the rest. I had a few when the war
began. I was of some use to them; they never were of any to me. Against
their will you 'emancipated' them; and you may 'emancipate' every negro
in the Confederacy, but _we will be free_! We will govern ourselves. We
_will_ do it, if we have to see every Southern plantation sacked, and
every Southern city in flames."
"I see, Mr. Davis, it is useless to continue this conversation," I
replied; "and you will pardon us, if we have seemed to press our views
with too much pertinacity. We love the old flag, and that must be our
apology for intruding upon you at all."
"You have not intruded upon me," he replied, resuming his usual manner.
"I am glad to have met you, both. I once loved the old flag as well as
you do; I would have died for it; but now it is to me only the emblem of
oppression."
"I hope the day may never come, Mr. Davis, when _I_ say that," said the
Colonel.
A half-hour's conversation on other topics--not of public
interest--ensued, and then we rose to go. As we did so, the Rebel
President gave me his hand, and, bidding me a kindly good-bye, expressed
the hope of seeing me again in Richmond in happier times,--when peace
should have returned; but with the Colonel his parting was particularly
cordial. Taking his hand in both of his, he said to him,--
"Colonel, I respect your character and your motives, and I wish you
well,--I wish you every good I can wish you consistently with the
interests of the Confederacy."
The quiet, straightforward bearing and magnificent moral courage of our
"fighting parson" had evidently impressed Mr. Davis very favorably.