Part 20

War is always a scourge. Never can it be regarded without sadness. It is one of the mysteries of Providence, that such an evil is allowed to vex mankind. Few deprecated it more than the President. From Quaker blood and from reflection, he was essentially a man of peace. In one of his speeches during his short service in Congress, he arraigned military glory as “that rainbow that rises in showers of blood,--that serpent’s eye that charms but to destroy”;[210] and when charged with the terrible responsibility of Government, he was none the less earnest for peace. He was not willing to see his beloved country torn by bloody battle, with fellow-citizens striking at each other. But after the criminal assault on Fort Sumter there was no alternative. The Republic was in peril, and every man, from President to citizen, was summoned to the defence. Nor was this all. An attempt was made to invest Slavery with national independence, and the President, who disliked both Slavery and War, described his own condition, when, addressing a member of the Society of Friends, he said, “Your people have had, and are having, very great trials. On principle and faith opposed to both war and oppression, _they can only practically oppose oppression by war_.”[211] In these few words the whole case is stated,--inasmuch as, whatever might be the pretension of State Rights, the war became necessary to overcome the baleful ambition of Slavery.

* * * * *

The Slave-Masters put in execution a conspiracy long contrived, for which they had prepared the way,--first, by teaching that any State might at its own will break from the Union, and, secondly, by teaching that colored persons were so far inferior as not to be embraced in the promises of the Declaration of Independence, but were justly held as slaves. The Mephistopheles of Slavery, Mr. Calhoun, inculcated for years both these pretensions. But the pretension of State Rights was a cover for Slavery.

Therefore, in determining that the Slave-Masters should be encountered, two things were resolved: first, that this Republic is one and indivisible; and, secondly, that no hideous power, with Slavery blazoned on its front, shall be created on our soil. Here was affirmation and denial: first, _affirmation_ of the National Unity; and, secondly, _denial_ of any independent foothold to Rebel Slavery. Accepting the challenge at Fort Sumter, the President became the voice of the Nation, which, with stern resolve, insisted that the Rebellion should be overcome by war. The people were in earnest, and would not brook hesitation. If ever in history war was necessary, if ever in history war was holy, it was the war then and there begun for the arrest and overthrow of Rebel Slavery.

The case between the two sides is stated first in the words of Jefferson Davis, and then in the words of Abraham Lincoln.

The representative of Slavery said:--

“The time for compromise has now passed, and the South is determined to maintain her position, and make all who oppose her smell Southern powder and feel Southern steel, if coercion is persisted in.… Our separation from the old Union is now complete. No compromise, no reconstruction, is now to be entertained.”[212]

Abraham Lincoln said:--

“In my view of the present aspect of affairs, there need be no bloodshed or war. I am not in favor of such a course; and I may say in advance that there will be no bloodshed, unless it be forced upon the Government, and then it will be compelled to act in self-defence.”[213]

And so issue was joined.

It was plain from the first cannon-shot, that the Rebellion was nothing but Slavery in arms; but such was the power of Slavery, even in the Free States, that months elapsed before the giant criminal was directly assailed. Generals in the field were tender towards it, as if it were a church, or a work of the fine arts. Only under the teaching of disaster was the country moved. The first step in Congress followed the defeat at Bull Run. Still the President hesitated. Disasters thickened and graves opened, until at last the country saw that by justice only could we hope for Divine favor, and the President, who leaned so closely upon the popular heart, pronounced that great word by which slaves were set free. Let it be named forever to his glory, that even tardily he grasped the thunderbolt under which the Rebellion staggered to its fall; that, following up the blow, he enlisted colored citizens as soldiers, and declared his final purpose never to retract or modify the Emancipation Proclamation, nor to return into Slavery any person free by the terms of that instrument, or by any Act of Congress,--saying, grandly, “If the people should, by whatever mode or means, make it an Executive duty to reënslave such persons, another, and not I, must be their instrument to perform it.”[214]

It is sometimes said that the Proclamation was of doubtful constitutionality. If such criticism does not proceed from sympathy with Slavery, it evidently proceeds from prevailing superstition with regard to this idol. Future jurists will read with astonishment that such a flagrant wrong could be considered at any time as having any rights which a court was bound to respect, and especially that rebels in arms could be considered as having any title to the services of people whose allegiance was primarily due to the United States. But, turning from these conclusions, it seems obvious that Slavery, standing exclusively on local law, without support in natural law, must have fallen with the local government, both legally and constitutionally: _legally_, inasmuch as it ceased to have any valid legal support; and _constitutionally_, inasmuch as it came at once within the exclusive jurisdiction of the Constitution, where Liberty is the supreme law. The President did not act upon these principles, but, speaking with the voice of authority, said, “Let the slaves be free.” What Court and Congress hesitated to declare he proclaimed, and thus enrolled himself among the world’s Emancipators.

* * * * *

From the Proclamation of Emancipation, placing its author so far above human approach that human envy cannot reach him, I carry you for one moment to our Foreign Relations. The convulsion here was felt in the most distant places,--as at the great earthquake of Lisbon, when that capital seemed about to be submerged, there was commotion of the waters in our Northern lakes. All Europe was stirred. There, too, was the Slavery question in another form. In an unhappy moment, under an ill-considered allegation of “necessity,”--which Milton tells us was the plea by which the Fiend “excused his devilish deeds,”--England accorded to Rebel Slavery the rights of belligerence on the ocean, and then proceeded to open her ports, to surrender her workshops, and to let loose her merchant ships in aid of this wickedness: forgetting all relations of alliance and amity with the United States, forgetting all logic of English history, forgetting all distinctions of right and wrong, and forgetting, also, that a New Power founded on Slavery was a moral monster, with which a just nation could have nothing to do. To appreciate the character of this concession, we must comprehend clearly the whole, vast, unprecedented crime of the Rebellion, taking its complexion from Slavery. Undoubtedly it was criminal to assail the Unity of this Republic, and thus destroy its peace and impair its example in the world; but the attempt to build a New Power on Slavery as a corner-stone, and with no other declared object of separate existence, was more than criminal,--or rather it was a crime of that untold, unspeakable guilt, which no language can depict and no judgment can be too swift to condemn. The associates in this terrible apostasy might rebuke each other in the words of an old dramatist:--

“Thou must do, then, What no malevolent star will dare to look on, It is so wicked; for which men will curse thee For being the instrument, and the blest angels Forsake me at my need for being the author; For ’tis a deed of night, of night, Francisco! In which the memory of all good actions We can pretend to shall be buried quick; Or, if we be remembered, it shall be To fright posterity by our example, That have outgone all precedents of villains That were before us.”[215]

Recognizing such a power, entering into _semi-alliance_ with such a power, investing such a power with rights, opening ports to such a power, surrendering workshops to such a power, building ships for such a power, driving a busy commerce with such a power,--all this, or any part of this, is positive and plain complicity with the original guilt, and must be judged as we judge any other complicity with Slavery. To say that it was a _necessity_ is only to repeat the perpetual plea by which slave-masters and slave-traders from the earliest moment have sought to vindicate their crime. A generous Englishman, the ornament of letters, from whom we learn in memorable lines “what constitutes a State,” has denounced all complicity with Slavery in words which strike directly at this plea of necessity. “Let sugar be as dear as it may,” wrote Sir William Jones to the freeholders of Middlesex, “it is better to eat none,--to eat honey, if sweetness only be palatable,--better to eat aloes or coloquintida, than violate a primary law of Nature impressed on every heart not imbruted by avarice, than rob one human creature of those eternal rights of which no law upon earth can justly deprive him.”[216]

England led in concession of belligerent rights to Rebel Slavery. No event of the Rebellion compares with this, in encouragement to transcendent crime, or in prejudice to the United States. Out of English ports and English workshops Rebel Slavery drew its supplies. In English ship-yards the cruisers of Rebel Slavery were built and equipped. From English foundries and arsenals Rebel Slavery was armed. And all this was made easy, when her Majesty’s Government, under pretence of an impossible neutrality, lifted Rebel Slavery to equality with the National Government, and gave to it _belligerent power_ on the ocean. The early legend was verified. King Arthur was without sword, when suddenly one appeared, thrust out from a lake. “Lo!” said Merlin, the enchanter, “yonder is that sword I spake of: it belongeth to the Lady of the Lake, and _if she will, thou mayest take it; but if she will not, it will not be in thy power to take it_.”[217] And the Lady of the Lake yielded the sword, so says the legend, even as England yielded the sword to Rebel Slavery.

The President saw the painful consequence of this concession, and especially that it was the first step towards acknowledgment of Rebel Slavery as an Independent Power. Clearly, if it were proper for a foreign power to acknowledge Belligerence, it might, at a later stage, be proper to acknowledge Independence; and any objection vital to Independence would, if applicable, be equally vital to Belligerence. Solemn resolutions of Congress on this question were communicated to foreign powers;[218] but the unanswerable argument against any possible recognition of a New Power founded on Slavery, whether Independent or Belligerent, was stated by the President in a paper which I hold in my hand, and which has never before seen the light. It is a copy of a resolution drawn by himself, which he consigned to me, in his own autograph, for transmission to one of our valued friends abroad,[219] as an expression of opinion on the great question involved, and a guide to public duty.

“_Whereas_, while _heretofore_ states and nations have tolerated Slavery, _recently_, for the first [time] in the world, an attempt has been made to construct a New Nation upon the basis of Human Slavery, and with the primary and fundamental object to maintain, enlarge, and perpetuate the same: Therefore

“_Resolved_, That no such embryo state should ever be recognized by or admitted into the family of Christian and civilized nations, and that all Christian and civilized men everywhere should by all lawful means resist to the utmost such recognition or admission.”

Observe how distinctly any recognition of Rebel Slavery as an Independent Power is branded, and how “all Christian and civilized men everywhere” are summoned to “resist to the utmost such recognition”; and precisely for the same reason such “Christian and civilized men everywhere” should have resisted to the utmost any recognition of Rebel Slavery as a Belligerent Power. Had this benign spirit entered into the counsels of England when Slavery first took arms, this great historic nation would have shrunk at all hazard from that fatal concession, in itself a plain contribution to Slavery, and opening the way to infinite contributions, without which the criminal pretender must have speedily succumbed. There would have been no plea of “necessity.” But Divine Providence willed it otherwise. Perhaps it was essential to the full revelation of its boundless capacities, that the Republic should stand forth alone, in sublime solitude, warring for Human Rights, and thus become an example to mankind.

Meanwhile the war continued with proverbial vicissitudes. Battles were fought and lost. Other battles were fought and won. Rebel Slavery stood face to face in deadly conflict with the Declaration of Independence, when the President, with unconscious power, dealt another blow, second only to the Proclamation of Emancipation. This was at the blood-soaked field of Gettysburg, where the armies of the Republic encountered the armies of Slavery, and, after a conflict of three days, drove them back with destructive slaughter,--as at that decisive battle of Tours, on which hung the destinies of Christianity in Western Europe, the invading Mahometans, after prolonged conflict, were driven back by Charles “the Hammer.” No battle of the present war was more important. Few battles in history compare with it. A brief space later occurred another meeting on that same field. It was of grateful fellow-citizens, gathered from all parts of the Union for its consecration to the memory of those who had fallen there. Eminent men of our own country and from foreign lands united in the service. There, too, was your classic orator,[220] whose finished address was a model of literary excellence. The President spoke very briefly; but his few words will live as long as Time. Since Simonides wrote the epitaph for those who died at Thermopylæ, nothing equal has ever been breathed over the fallen dead. Thus he began: “Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth upon this continent a New Nation, _conceived in Liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal_.” How grandly, and yet simply, is the New Nation announced, with the Equality of All Men as its frontlet! The truths of the Declaration, so often proclaimed by him, and for which he was willing to die, are inscribed on the altar of the slain, while the country is summoned to their support, that our duty may not be left undone.

“It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the _unfinished work_ which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us; that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of Freedom; and that government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”[221]

That speech, uttered at the field of Gettysburg, and now sanctified by the martyrdom of its author, is a monumental act. In the modesty of his nature, he said: “The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here; but it can never forget what they did here.”[222] He was mistaken. The world noted at once what he said, and will never cease to remember it. The battle itself was less important than the speech. Ideas are more than battles.

Among events assuring to him the general confidence against all party clamor and prejudice, this speech cannot be placed too high. To some who doubted his earnestness it was touching proof of their error. Others who followed with indifference were warmed with grateful sympathy. Many felt its exquisite genius, as well as lofty character. There were none to criticize.

His reëlection was not only a personal triumph, but a triumph of the Republic. For himself personally, it was much to find his administration ratified; but for republican ideas it was of incalculable value that at such a time the plume of the soldier had not prevailed. In the midst of war, the people at the ballot-box deliberately selected the civilian. Ye who doubt the destinies of the Republic, who fear the ambition of a military chief, or suspect the popular will, do not forget that at this moment, when the noise of battle filled the whole land, the country quietly appointed for its ruler this man of peace.

The Inaugural Address which signalized his entry for a second time upon his great duties was briefer than any in our history; but it has already gone further, and it will live longer, than any other. It was a continuation of the Gettysburg speech, with the same sublimity and gentleness. Its concluding words were like an angelic benediction.

* * * * *

And now there was surfeit of battle and of victory. Calmly he saw the land of Slavery enveloped by the national forces,--saw the great coil bent by his generals about it,--saw the mighty _garrote_, as it tightened against the neck of the Rebellion. Good news came from all quarters. Everywhere the army was doing its duty. One was conquering in Tennessee; another was advancing in Georgia and Carolina; another was watching at Richmond. The navy echoed back the thunders of the army. Place after place was falling,--Savannah, Charleston, Fort Fisher, Wilmington. The President left the National Capital to be near the Lieutenant-General. Then came the capture of Petersburg and Richmond, with the flight of Jefferson Davis and his Cabinet. Without pomp or military escort, the President entered the Capital of the Rebellion, and walked its streets, from which Slavery had fled forever. Then came the surrender of Lee; that of Johnston was at hand. The military power of Rebel Slavery was broken like a Prince-Rupert’s drop, and everywhere within its confines the barbarous government tumbled in crash and ruin. The country was in ecstasy. All this he beheld without elation, while his soul was brooding on thoughts of peace and clemency. On the morning of Friday, 14th April, his youthful son, who had been on the staff of the Lieutenant-General, returned to resume his interrupted studies. The father was happy in the sound of his footsteps, and felt the augury of peace. During the same day the Lieutenant-General returned. In the intimacy of his family the President said, “This day the war is over.” In the evening he sought relaxation, and you know the rest. Alas! the war was not over. The minions of Slavery were dogging him with unabated animosity, and that night he became a martyr.

The country rose at once in agony of grief, and everywhere strong men wept. City, town, and village were darkened by the general obsequies. Every street was draped. Only ensigns of woe were seen. He had become, as it were, the inmate of every house, and the families of the land were in mourning. Not in the Executive mansion only, but in uncounted homes, was his vacant chair. Never before such universal sorrow. Already the voice of lamentation is returning from Europe, where candor towards him had begun even before his tragical death. A short time ago he was unknown, except in his own State. A short time ago he visited New York as a stranger, and was shown about its streets by youthful companions. Five years later he was borne through those streets with funeral pomp such as the world never witnessed before. Space and speed were forgotten in the offering of hearts; and as the surpassing pageant, with more than “sceptred pall,” moved on iron highways, over Counties and States, from ocean-side to prairie, the whole afflicted people bowed their uncovered heads.

It was hard to comprehend this blow, and many cried in despair. But the rule of God is too visible to allow doubt of His constant presence. Did not our martyr in his last address remind us that the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether? And who will say that his death was not a judgment of the Lord? Perhaps it was needed to lift the country into a more perfect justice and to inspire a sublimer faith. Perhaps it was sent in love, to set a sacred, irreversible seal upon the good he had done, and to put Emancipation beyond all mortal question. Perhaps it was the sacrificial consecration of those primal truths embodied in the birthday Declaration of the Republic, which he had so often vindicated, and for which he had announced his willingness to die.

He is gone, and he has been mourned sincerely. Only private sorrow would recall the dead. He is now removed beyond earthly vicissitudes. Life and death are both past. He had been happy in life: he was not less happy in death. In death, as in life, he was still under the guardianship of that Divine Providence, which, taking him early by the hand, led him from obscurity to power and fame. The blow was sudden, but not unprepared for. Only on the Sunday preceding, as he was coming from the front on board the steamer, with a beautiful quarto Shakespeare in his hands, he read aloud the well-remembered words of his favorite “Macbeth”:--

“Duncan is in his grave; After life’s fitful fever, he sleeps well. Treason has done his worst; nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further.”[223]

Impressed by their beauty, or by some presentiment unuttered, he read them aloud a second time. As the friends about listened to his reading, they little thought how in a few days what was said of the murdered Duncan would be said of him. “Nothing can touch him further.” He is saved from the trials that were gathering. He had fought the good fight of Emancipation. He had borne the brunt of war with embattled hosts, and conquered. He had made the name of Republic a triumph and a joy in foreign lands. Now that the strife of blood was ended, it remained to be seen how he could confront those machinations which are only _prolongation of the war_, and more dangerous because more subtle,--where recent Rebels, with professions of Union on the lips, but still denying the birthday Declaration of the Republic, vainly seek to organize peace on _another Oligarchy of the skin_. From all these trials he was saved. But his testimony lives, and will live forever, speaking by his life, speaking yet again by his death. Invisible to mortal sight, and now above all human weakness, he is still champion, as in his early conflict, summoning his countrymen _back to the truths in the Declaration of Independence_. Dead, he speaks with more than living voice. But the author of Emancipation cannot die. His immortality on earth has begun. Country and age are already enshrined in his example, as if he were the great poet gathered to his fathers.

“Back to the living hath he turned him, And all of death has passed away; The age that thought him dead and mourned him Itself now lives but in his lay.”[224]