CHAPTER XII
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.”
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