Part 44 (1/2)

Dougla.s.s was overjoyed. He had long believed that the war would not be won so long as the North refused ”to employ the black man's arm in suppressing the rebels.” He wrote stirring appeals in his Monthly magazine and traveled throughout the North, speaking at large meetings in Albany, Syracuse, Buffalo, Philadelphia, and many other cities, offering a dozen answers to the question: ”Why should a colored man enlist?” Nothing, he a.s.sured them, would more clearly legitimize their call for equal citizens.h.i.+p: ”You will stand more erect, walk more a.s.sured, feel more at ease, and be less liable to insult than you ever were before. He who fights the battles of America may claim America as his country-and have that claim respected.”

The black soldiers who initially answered Dougla.s.s's call became part of the famed 54th Ma.s.sachusetts Regiment. Captained by Robert Gould Shaw, the son of wealthy Boston abolitionists, this first black regiment from the North included two of Frederick Dougla.s.s's own sons, Charles and Lewis. On May 28, thousands of Bostonians poured into the streets cheering the men as they marched past the State House and the Common. At the parade ground, they were reviewed by the governor and various high-ranking military officials. ”No single regiment has attracted larger crowds,” the Boston Daily Evening Transcript reported. ”Ladies lined the balconies and windows of the houses,” waving their handkerchiefs as the bra.s.s band led the proud regiment to the parade ground.

Frederick Dougla.s.s attended the ceremonies, proudly extolling the ”manly bearing” and ”admirable marching” of the men he had worked hard to recruit. After bidding his sons farewell, he returned to the task of recruiting with renewed zeal.

Lincoln was in full accord with this drive to build black regiments. Though he had initially resisted proposals to arm blacks, he was now totally dedicated. He urged Banks, Hunter, and Grant to speed the enlisting process and implored Governor Andrew Johnson of Tennessee to raise black troops. ”The colored population is the great available and yet unavailed of, force for restoring the Union,” Lincoln wrote. ”The bare sight of fifty thousand armed, and drilled black soldiers on the banks of the Mississippi, would end the rebellion at once.” Chase, who had argued more strongly than any other cabinet member for black soldiers, took great satisfaction in Lincoln's newfound commitment. ”The President is now thoroughly in earnest in this business,” he wrote a friend, ”& sees it much as I saw it nearly two years ago.”

In his efforts to recruit black soldiers, Dougla.s.s encountered a series of obstacles forged by white prejudice: black soldiers received less pay than white soldiers, they were denied the enlistment bounty, and they were not allowed to be commissioned as officers. Still, Dougla.s.s insisted, ”this is no time for hesitation.... Once let the black man get upon his person the bra.s.s letters, U.S.; let him get an eagle on his b.u.t.ton, and a musket on his shoulder, and bullets in his pocket,” he told a ma.s.s audience in Philadelphia, ”and there is no power on the earth or under the earth which can deny that he has earned the right of citizens.h.i.+p in the United States. I say again, this is our chance, and woe betide us if we fail to embrace it.”

When the newly organized black troops went into battle-at Port Hudson, Milliken's Bend, and Fort Wagner-they earned great respect from white soldiers and civilians alike for their ”bravery and steadiness.” If captured, however, they ran the risk of losing their freedom or their lives, for the Confederate Congress had pa.s.sed an ordinance ”dooming to death or slavery every negro taken in arms, and every white officer who commands negro troops.”

As word of the unique dangers they faced spread through the black community, Dougla.s.s found that the size and enthusiasm of his audiences were swiftly diminis.h.i.+ng, as was the number of black enlistments. He blamed Lincoln for not speaking out against the Confederate ordinance. ”What has Mr. Lincoln to say about this slavery and murder? What has he said?-Not one word. In the hearing of the nation he is as silent as an oyster on the whole subject.” The time for patience with the president had come and gone, he argued. Until he ”shall interpose his power to prevent these atrocious a.s.sa.s.sinations of negro soldiers, the civilized world will hold him equally with Jefferson Davis responsible for them.”

Lincoln's failure to speak out and protect the Union's black soldiers convinced Dougla.s.s that he could no longer persuade men to enlist in good conscience. ”When I plead for recruits, I want to do it with my heart, without qualification,” he explained to Major Stearns. ”I cannot do that now. The impression settles upon me that colored men have much overrated the enlightenment, justice and generosity of our rulers at Was.h.i.+ngton.”

In fact, Lincoln was already formulating a response. During the last week of July 1863, he asked Halleck to prepare an Order of Retaliation, which was issued on July 30. The order made clear that ”the law of nations and the usages and customs of war as carried on by civilized powers, permit no distinction as to color in the treatment of prisoners of war.” The Confederate ordinance represented ”a relapse into barbarism” that required action on the part of the Union. ”It is therefore ordered 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.”

The order was ”well-written,” the antagonistic Count Gurowski conceded, ”but like all Mr. Lincoln's acts it is done almost too late, only when the poor President was so cornered by events, that s.h.i.+fting and escape became impossible.” Dougla.s.s agreed but acknowledged that the president, ”being a man of action,” might have been waiting ”for a case in which he should be required to act.”

Although the retaliatory order alleviated one major concern, Dougla.s.s feared that the lack of ”fair play” in the handling of black enrollees would continue to hamper recruiting. Major Stearns suggested that Dougla.s.s should go to Was.h.i.+ngton and explain the situation to the president. Having never visited the nation's capital, Dougla.s.s experienced an inexpressible ”tumult of feeling” when he entered the White House. ”I could not know what kind of a reception would be accorded me. I might be told to go home and mind my business.... Or I might be refused an interview altogether.”

Finding a large crowd in the hallway, Dougla.s.s expected to wait hours before gaining an audience with the president. Minutes after presenting his card, however, he was called into the office. ”I was never more quickly or more completely put at ease in the presence of a great man than in that of Abraham Lincoln,” he later recalled. The president was seated in a chair when Dougla.s.s entered the room, ”surrounded by a mult.i.tude of books and papers, his feet and legs were extended in front of his chair. On my approach he slowly drew his feet in from the different parts of the room into which they had strayed, and he began to rise.” As Lincoln extended his hand in greeting, Dougla.s.s hesitantly began to introduce himself. ”I know who you are, Mr. Dougla.s.s,” Lincoln said. ”Mr. Seward has told me all about you. Sit down. I am glad to see you.” Lincoln's warmth put Dougla.s.s instantly at ease. Dougla.s.s later maintained that he had ”never seen a more transparent countenance.” He could tell ”at a glance the justice of the popular estimate of the President['s] qualities expressed in the prefix 'honest' to the name of Abraham Lincoln.”

Dougla.s.s laid before the president the discriminatory measures that were frustrating his recruiting efforts. ”Mr. Lincoln listened with earnest attention and with very apparent sympathy,” he recalled. ”Upon my ceasing to speak [he] proceeded with an earnestness and fluency of which I had not suspected him.” Lincoln first recognized the indisputable justice of the demand for equal pay. When Congress pa.s.sed the bill for black soldiers, he explained, it ”seemed a necessary concession to smooth the way to their employment at all as soldiers,” but he promised that ”in the end they shall have the same pay as white soldiers.” As for the absence of black officers, Lincoln a.s.sured Dougla.s.s that ”he would sign any commission to colored soldiers whom his Secretary of War should commend to him.”

Dougla.s.s was particularly impressed by Lincoln's justification for delaying the retaliatory order until the public mind was prepared for it. Had he acted earlier, Lincoln said, before the recent battles ”in which negroes had distinguished themselves for bravery and general good conduct,” he was certain that ”such was the state of public popular prejudice that an outcry would have been raised against the measure. It would be said-Ah! we thought it would come to this. White men were to be killed for negroes.” In fact, he confessed to grave misgivings that, ”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 killing black prisoners] he could easily retaliate, but the thought of hanging men for a crime perpetrated by others was revolting to his feelings.” While Dougla.s.s disagreed, believing the order essential, he respected the ”humane spirit” that prompted Lincoln's concerns.

Before they parted, Lincoln told Dougla.s.s that he had read a recent speech in which the fiery orator had lambasted ”the tardy, hesitating and vacillating policy of the President of the United States.” Though he conceded that he might move with frustrating deliberation on large issues, he disputed the accusation of vacillation. ”I think it cannot be shown that when I have once taken a position, I have ever retreated from it.” Dougla.s.s would never forget his first meeting with Lincoln, during which he felt ”as though I could...put my hand on his shoulder.”

Later that same day, Dougla.s.s met with Stanton. ”The manner of no two men could be more widely different,” he observed. ”His first glance was that of a man who says: 'Well, what do you want? I have no time to waste upon you or anybody else.'” Nonetheless, once Dougla.s.s began to outline much the same issues he had addressed with the president, ”contempt and suspicion and brusqueness had all disappeared from his face,” and Stanton, too, promised ”that justice would ultimately be done.” Indeed, Stanton had already implored Congress to remove the discriminatory wage and bounty provisions, which it would eventually do. Impressed by Dougla.s.s, Stanton promised to make him an a.s.sistant adjutant general a.s.signed to Lorenzo Thomas, then charged with recruiting black soldiers in the Mississippi Valley. The War Department followed up with an offer of a $100-a-month salary plus subsistence and transportation, but the commission was not included. Dougla.s.s declined: ”I knew too much of camp life and the value of shoulder straps in the army to go into the service without some visible mark of my rank.”

Dougla.s.s and Lincoln had established a relations.h.i.+p that would prove important for both men in the weeks and months ahead. In subsequent speeches, Dougla.s.s frequently commented on his gracious reception at the White House. ”Perhaps you may like to know how the President of the United States received a black man at the White House,” he would say. ”I will tell you how he received me-just as you have seen one gentleman receive another.” As the crowd erupted into ”great applause,” he continued, ”I tell you I felt big there!”

IN THE RELATIVE QUIET that followed, Lincoln immersed himself in the task of composing another public letter. This letter was addressed to James Conkling, the old Springfield friend in whose office he had anxiously awaited news from Chicago during the Republican nominating convention. As a leading Illinois Republican, Conkling had invited Lincoln to attend a ma.s.s meeting in Springfield on September 3, organized to rally loyal Unionists in a show of strength against the Copperhead influence, which remained strong in the Northwest. Union victories at Gettysburg and Vicksburg had created a deceptive feeling that peace was close at hand. False rumors circulated that Lincoln had received and rejected several viable peace proposals. It was essential to derail these damaging stories and halt Copperhead momentum in its tracks. While he doubtless would have been received with adoration in his hometown, Lincoln decided to remain in Was.h.i.+ngton and compose a comprehensive letter for Conkling to read at the meeting and then have printed for ma.s.s distribution.

After completing an early draft, Lincoln searched out someone to listen as he read it aloud. It was a Sunday night, and the mansion was nearly vacant. Entering the library, the president was delighted to find William Stoddard. ”Ah! I'm glad you're here,” Lincoln said. ”Come over into my room.” Stoddard followed him into his office. ”Sit down,” Lincoln urged. ”What I want is an audience. Nothing sounds the same when there isn't anybody to hear it and find fault with it.” Stoddard expressed doubt that he would be inclined to criticize the president's words. ”Yes, you will,” Lincoln good-humoredly replied. ”Everybody else will. It's just what I want you to do.” Then, taking the sheets of foolscap paper from the end of the cabinet table on which he had been writing, he began to read.

Warming to the task, Lincoln allowed his voice to rise and fall as if he were speaking to an audience of thousands. When he finished, he asked Stoddard's impression. Stoddard's sole objection was to fault Lincoln's metaphor-”Uncle Sam's web-feet”-for the navy gunboats that plied the rivers and bayous. ”I never saw a web-footed gunboat in all my life,” Stoddard said. ”They're a queer kind of duck.” Lincoln laughed. ”Some of 'em did get ash.o.r.e, though. I'll leave it in, now I know how it's going to sound.” Then, thanking Stoddard, he bade him good night.

The address was designed to curb the ”deceptive and groundless” rumors that Lincoln had secretly rejected peace proposals. If any legitimate propositions should be received, he pledged, they would not be kept a secret from the people he was elected to serve. ”But, to be plain,” he went on, ”you are dissatisfied with me about the negro.... You dislike the emanc.i.p.ation proclamation; and, perhaps, would have it retracted.” On this point there would be no compromise: ”it can not be retracted, any more than the dead can be brought to life,” for ”the promise being made, must be kept.” Furthermore, black soldiers had become so integral to the war effort that ”some of the commanders of our armies in the field who have given us our most important successes, believe the emanc.i.p.ation policy, and the use of colored troops, const.i.tute the heaviest blow yet dealt to the rebellion....

”Peace does not appear so distant as it did,” Lincoln concluded. ”And then, there will be some black men who can remember that, with silent tongue, and clenched teeth, and steady eye, and well-poised bayonet, they have helped mankind on to this great consummation; while, I fear, there will be some white ones, unable to forget that, with malignant heart, and deceitful speech, they have strove to hinder it.”

Lincoln continued to refine his letter over the next ten days, stealing what time he could from his public duties. He finally sent it, accompanied with a personal note to Conkling: ”You are one of the best public readers. I have but one suggestion. Read it very slowly.” An immense crowd was expected, drawn ”from the farm and the workshop,” the local newspaper reported, ”from the office and the counting-room,” to prove to the Copperheads that behind the soldiers already in the field were ”hundreds of thousands more who are willing to offer their services whenever the country calls.”

Confident in his final composition, Lincoln antic.i.p.ated a positive reception on September 3 when it would be read to the crowd and then given to newspapers for publication the following day. When he awoke on the morning of the ma.s.s meeting, however, he was furious to see a truncated version of his letter printed in the Was.h.i.+ngton Daily Chronicle. Lincoln immediately complained to the editor, John Forney. Don't blame us, Forney explained to Lincoln, we got it from the a.s.sociated Press, and it's in daily newspapers around the country. Provoked, Lincoln telegraphed Conkling in Springfield. ”I am mortified this morning to find the letter to you, botched up, in the Eastern papers, telegraphed from Chicago. How did this happen?”

Hearing nothing that day from Conkling, Lincoln remained testy. When a pet.i.tioner tried to solicit his help in securing property for a Memphis woman whose husband was in the Confederate Army, the president uncharacteristically replied that he had ”neither the means nor time” to consider the request and that ”the impropriety of bringing such cases to me, is obvious to any one.”

The following morning, a message arrived from Conkling. Apparently, he had telegraphed the letter in advance, with ”strict injunctions not to permit it to be published before the meeting or make any improper use of it.” He was ”mortified” that someone had broken faith, but trusted that ”no prejudicial results have been experienced as the whole Letter was published the next day.”