Lincoln grieved after the battle, "If there is a worse place than hell I am in it." Witnesses said when he heard the news of a disaster, he looked pale and in terrible pain. The governor of Pennsylvania remembered that he "groaned, . . . and showed great agony of spirit. He walked the floor, wringing his hands and uttering exclamations of grief . . ."12
In the wake of yet another military debacle, Douglass wanted badly to believe, as he had written earlier, that "Abraham Lincoln is not the man to reconsider, retract and contradict words."13Yet there was nothing firm yet about the issuing of the real proclamation at New Year's, and Lincoln was still signaling to many border state politicians that the offer of graduated, long-term emancipation was still on the table. For that matter, the act had been deliberately delayed for months so that even the South could reconsider the war itself (though not even Lincoln with his habitual good will believed they would).
The pressure had to be kept up, and Douglass showed his doubts when telling his readers, "Now for the work." Between late fall and the January date that the proclamation would go into effect, he asked every one of them to write, speak, and donate money to the cause of emancipation. The aim was to "make the North a unit in favor of the President's policy." They could leave "nothing to contingency, but work steadily to keep the public mind and heart up to the one grand object." If they did not do this, Douglass feared that Lincoln would not go through with his stated purpose. Many in the North did not share Douglass's joy at the action. The New York World believed Lincoln had betrayed the moderation of his inaugural address and was "fully adrift on the current of radical fanaticism." A wealthy Bostonian was appalled at the idea black people "should be made free by killing or poisoning their masters and mistresses."14
Uncomfortable with a proclamation that did not immediately take effect, Douglass in his articles urged Lincoln to put it into effect instantly, claiming that delay only aided the enemy by giving them time to move black people out of the reach of Union armies as well as to generate northern opposition. Beyond these valid concerns, what scared Douglass more was the idea of Lincoln backing out of this pledge. He wondered in a letter, "Are we not in danger of a compromise?" The thought that the North could give up was never far from his mind. His anxiety about whether this proclamation would become a reality was almost unbearable. John Jones, a friend from Chicago, wrote to Douglass, "we are held in suspense on the first of the month until we receive it." Douglass explained to another associate, "Oh! If one could strike December from the calendar."15
Few passages of Lincoln's have been as often quoted as his stirring ending to his second annual message to Congress. The political document for a moment reached out to express so much to all future Americans: "Fellow Citizens, we cannot escape history . . . The fiery trial through which we pass, will light us down, in honor or dishonor, to the latest generation." He said the ways to save the Union were known, and that the nation must "hold the power, and bear the responsibility." Then he expressed this salvation for the country: "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."
Few words have been so inspirational, yet many ignore the direct context of the means to be employed to "nobly save." Preceding long passages provide a detailed outline of the gradual, compensation border state plan that Lincoln had been trying to sell, without success, for nearly a year. This plan, which offered to buy a way out of the violence of war, was closely allied to the colonization plan, which offered a means of "augmented, and considerable migration to both these countries (Liberia and Haiti), from the United States." He outlined, in passages seldom read by anyone other than professional historians, what each slave owner would get in return for the freedom of each slave in his possession, and added, "Congress may appropriate money and otherwise provide for colonizing free colored persons, with their own consent, at any place or places without the United States." He then estimated the length of this prolonged emancipation process: thirty-seven years. In other words, slave states (South and North) could participate in this compensation at any time until 1900. Lincoln noted that this plan would not please all equally but would, in his opinion, not only save the Union and stop the killing, but also save "both races from the evils of sudden derangement."16
What Lincoln wrote on December 1 brought Douglass only more anxiety. In his annual message, Lincoln affirmed, "I cannot make it better known than it already is, that I strongly favor colonization." Many radicals noted that Lincoln's annual message barely mentioned the possibility of a final Emancipation Proclamation, and instead discussed at length colonization and gradual, compensated emancipation. The annual message made Douglass question Lincoln's commitment to the proclamation, even if it was still part of his thinking.
Despite what Lincoln said in the message, abolitionists also noted the absence of any word on colonization in the preliminary Emancipation Proclamation offered in September, which they hoped was significant. For Lincoln's legacy and the memory of this order as a document of freedom, it was a fortunate omission. However, the omission was plainly not because Lincoln had abandoned these ideas. A far less remembered document that Lincoln signed the day before he placed his pen on the final Emancipation Proclamation is a contract applying federal funds to move five thousand black Americans to an island near Haiti.17
Compensated emancipation and colonization were concepts in firm partnership for Lincoln, mutually reinforcing one another. It was no coincidence that these acts were presented on consecutive days. Lincoln wanted to show white voters that emancipation would not necessarily mean free black people would be inundating their communities (an idea he also firmly rejects in his annual message). Indiana representative George W. Julian, writing of the proclamation, indicated that Lincoln "wished it distinctly understood that the deportation of the slaves was, in his mind, inseparably connected with the policy." In fact, Lincoln had told his cabinet as much the day after he released the Emancipation Proclamation, vowing, "the effort to colonize persons of African descent, with their consent, upon this continent, or else where, with the previously obtained consent of the Governments existing there, will be continued."18
Rosetta worried for her father, writing, "Are you entirely well or are you forcing yourself about." As she readied for a Christmas break from her school, she missed him and hoped he would find a way to visit soon. When she had a free moment, she loved to go into downtown Philadelphia to find a newspaper documenting her father's latest speech. More than anything, she longed to be in Boston on New Year's Day to see her father experience a crucial moment in all of their lives.19
Three days before the final proclamation was to be signed and sent out to the nation, Douglass spoke in his hometown. For December in upstate New York, it was uncharacteristically warm, and Douglass saw symbolism in this glorious weather. He told the crowd that it should not be a day for his words, but rather "a day for poetry and song, a new song."
Since he was a child he had been asking, "How long! How long oh! Eternal Power of the Universe, how long shall these things be?" He felt that God would reveal that answer in three days. He framed the Emancipation Proclamation as a definitive statement to and for a nation heading toward freedom, and Douglass wanted his audience to believe with him the abolition war he had relentlessly worked for had now arrived.
He also confessed, "The suspense is painful, but will soon be over." The range of opinions were so broad and passionate, Douglass saw that the "national head swings, pendulum like, now to the one side and now to the other. Alas, no man can tell which will prevail—and we are compelled to wait, hope, labor and pray." He believed that Lincoln, as inept as he had been, was not a liar. He estimated that Lincoln's word, "though clumsily uttered," was honest.20
Then again, just getting Lincoln to this point forced Douglass to compare the president to an ox that emancipation advocates were forced to drag along. The lack of enthusiasm in the prel
iminary proclamation's words still bothered Douglass; there was nothing resembling an "expression of sound moral feeling against Slavery." There was not a word of shame and regret for slavery's existence nor an extension of mercy. In the end, he suspected there was no motivation in this act that was moral as opposed to military necessity. And if this was indeed the case, Lincoln just might have few reservations about annulling the order.
The irony was that such a stated moral basis might have seemed far more shaky to Lincoln, whose principal governing instinct was to always first make an appeal to logic and reason; it was precisely the secure basis of military necessity that was keeping Lincoln so firmly on line, unbeknownst to Douglass. Somehow, Lincoln had to win this war, and he was convinced, though many in his administration were not, that the proclamation would help in the long run. It was a great gamble, but then again, with so many of his efforts coming up short, perhaps the time had come.
On January 1, Douglass was again at the Tremont Temple. Here he would learn whether Lincoln would force this turning point in the war. A staggering three thousand people crammed into the hall around ten A.M., brimming with enthusiasm. Looking back, he would write, "Our ship was on the open sea, tossed by a terrible storm; wave after wave was passing over us, and every hour was fraught with increasing peril." The Emancipation Proclamation was the lifeline he needed. Alone, it would not ultimately save them, with its questionable legal standing and inability to touch the border slave states, but it would keep them afloat for a while longer, and lead to a horizon no one could yet spy.21
One leader after another spoke from the stage, but most eyes kept checking the door for the telegraph messenger to come in with news of the proclamation. It was decided that they would break and reconvene at two P.M. At this time, Douglass spoke on the meaning of this day. He ruminated on the dark period they had passed through, characterized by the attack he had suffered in this very building before the outset of war. This proclamation was a ray of possibility that abolitionists must capitalize on. He reminded the audience that black men were keenly waiting for their chance to fight in this war.22
At seven thirty that night people gathered once again and the hours again passed by without information. Eight became nine and nine turned to ten. By eleven P.M., Douglass had been waiting for more than twelve hours, but he vowed he would not go home until morning. Douglass was growing frightened at this point. The crowd's optimism had given way to a pensive, apprehensive mood. Douglass wondered if Mrs. Lincoln's coming from a slaveholding family would cause Lincoln to relent. Perhaps Lincoln's tender nature was actually a weakness that some last-minute plea had swayed. How could he have overlooked the fact that Lincoln did not seem to be "a man of heroic measures"? For Douglass, "suspense became agony," as, "Every moment of waiting chilled our hopes, and strengthened our fears."23
The abolitionists had organized a line of messengers that extended to a telegraph machine in a local newspaper office. Finally, Judge Thomas Russell of Plymouth, Massachusetts, sprinted through the crowd, yelling, "It is coming! It is on the wires!!" The effect of his words was "startling beyond description." Old friends and strangers clutched each other, people prayed, sang, and cried to God all at the same time. In a moment, Russell had the proclamation in his hands. Lincoln had kept his word. As soon as black people could reach Union lines or Union lines could reach them, they were free. Douglass remembered, "I never saw enthusiasm before. I never saw joy before." People of all races, ages, and genders embraced. Hats and bonnets flew into the air. The noise was deafening. They shouted three cheers for Abraham Lincoln, while others thanked God with tears streaming down their face.24
Charles Slack stepped onto the stage with the proclamation in his hand and then read Lincoln's words above the joyous sounds. It was midnight and their lease on Tremont Temple was over. Someone suggested moving to Rev. Leonard Grimes's Twelfth Baptist Church, an appropriate place because aiding fugitives from slavery had been a cornerstone of this congregation from its inception. Grimes led a crowd almost delirious with excitement down the brick sidewalks of Beacon Hill, where the glow of streetlamps revealed his church on Phillips Street.
Douglass was in the heart of the celebration that packed every pew. They sung "Glory, Hallelujah," "Old John Brown," and "Blow Ye, the Trumpet Blow." One old black man stood up to say, "I was born in North Carolina, where my brother Douglass was born, thank God!" Douglass, laughing, did not have the heart to interrupt him with the information that he was from Maryland. The old man told the crowd that they had both escaped from the slavery and he had managed to take his wife with him. She was with him tonight to rejoice for this blow to the institution that threatened to tear them apart.25The party kept going until three in the morning and Douglass spoke for the third time during this emotional whirlwind of a day, but his mind was already moving on to other matters.
He was thinking about black troops. The black men he informally surveyed during the night said they were ready to fight. Was Lincoln ready to accept them?26
1863
CHAPTER 9
"Give Them a Chance
If Frederick Douglass had learned one thing from his years as a slave, it was this: "Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and never will. Find out just what any people will quietly submit to and you have found out the exact measure of injustice and wrong which will be imposed on them, and these will continue till they are resisted with either words or blows, or both."1If black Americans were to become full citizens of the United States, Douglass was utterly convinced it would happen only after they had personally fought for it. The Emancipation Proclamation was just a step toward a freedom that they would likely have to earn through violence.
Douglass desperately wanted to be a part of this experience of liberation, no matter what it might entail. He told friends that his speaking around the country was to somehow shift the North to support, grudgingly or not, both emancipation and black troops. This effort might not be in vain, and he wondered if it was beginning to dawn on the president that "The slaves' liberation is the country's salvation." Less than a month after his exuberant night of celebration in Boston, Douglass captured how his life had not changed all that much in a letter to newspaper editor Theodore Tilton, "For nearly twenty five years I have been at work—toiling over the country from town to town— speaking to tens where I could find tens—and hundreds—when favored with such numbers. I shall as usual be in the lecturing field this winter." He headed as far west as Chicago, then back east for speeches throughout Connecticut. Before leaving he wrote to Samuel J. May, "the people hear me gladly."2
The Emancipation Proclamation would be meaningless if the Union did not win this war. Despite his sense that the proclamation represented a vital turning point, even if the Union's military fortunes radically improved soon and the war ended in victory, Douglass knew the act was still just a presidential order in military guise, not a constitutional amendment. True liberation would only come after black men fought. It was clear to him (and was beginning to occur to those in the War Department) that without black soldiers, the North could not close this contest.
Radical abolitionists saw another dangerous element to the proclamation. Upon closer examination, it clearly was far less radical than the Second Confiscation Act already passed by Congress. As positive a step as it was, it appeared to be a shrewd maneuver by Lincoln to outflank both the radicals in Congress who were pressing him hard on slavery and the conservative Democrats who wanted nothing done on slavery at all. It was Lincoln's way of taming two sets of critics with one act, and the president stoically took whatever criticism came his way, knowing that if he antagonized both sides equally, he was probably as safe as he was going to get.
Douglass's post-Emancipation Proclamation speaking series climaxed in front of a large audience featuring the nation's reformer luminaries at Cooper Union in New York City. He hoped Greeley's Tribune, read throughout the country, would publish his entire address. This was his greatest opportunity
yet to shape the nation's understanding of the Emancipation Proclamation and of what must happen next in the war.
First, Douglass wanted all Americans to see the good of being emancipated from a curse upon their nation. He proclaimed, "We are all liberated by this proclamation. Everybody is liberated." Lincoln would have agreed with this appraisal of slavery's socially and morally corrosive effect. Thus, in Douglass's estimation, Lincoln had not created a new truth but offered "in this dark hour of national peril, to apply an old truth, long ago acknowledged in theory by the nation"—the radical concept that all are born equal. For this reason, Douglass considered the Emancipation Proclamation to be among the great acts not just of United States history, but in the story of all humanity.
By acknowledging this ideal, Lincoln's emancipation act could also free the Union army from the racial prejudice hindering its progress. He asked his audience if they would rather drown than let the black man save them. As glorious as his view of this presidential action was, if it was not accompanied by enlisting black men, Douglass said it would be "worthless—a miserable mockery." To conquer the rebels and win this epic conflict, the North would have to conquer their own prejudices first.3
As the Emancipation Proclamation approached, he had written to Julia Griffiths Crofts of his desire to finally give up the onerous burden of his paper and join the war effort in some regard. It is clear that he was envisioning a more direct involvement. In her response, she says she cannot stop thinking about his letter, and ends up pleading with him, "you must not give up your paper? Her exasperation is such that she wished to "fly over the water" and convince Douglass to stay out of any military involvement. Griffiths Crofts was one of Douglass's closest friends, and her opinion carried great weight. But in this case, she did not fully understand Douglass.4
Douglass and Lincoln Page 16