Abraham Lincoln's hatred of slavery was inborn, but its development began when he saw human beings sold at auction on the levee at New Orleans and chained and beaten upon the decks of Mississippi River steamboats on their way to market. These horrors were first witnessed by him when he made his voyage on the flat-boat from Gentryville, and the impression was deepened upon his second journey four years later from New Salem. Even to the day of his death the recollection was vivid. He alluded to it frequently while the slave problem was perplexing him and his advisers during the war, and the picture was before his eyes when he wrote the Emancipation Proclamation. As one of his companions said, "Slavery ran the iron into him then and there."

However, the mind of the boy had been prepared for this impression by the teachings of his mother. In 1804 a crusade against slavery in Kentucky was started by the itinerant preachers of the Baptist Church, and the Rev. Jesse Head, the minister who married Thomas Lincoln and Nancy Hanks, was a bold abolitionist and boldly proclaimed the doctrine of human liberty wherever he went. Lincoln's father and mother were among his most devoted disciples, and when he was a mere child Abraham Lincoln inherited their hatred of human servitude. "If slavery is not wrong, nothing is wrong," he once said in a speech. "I cannot remember when I did not think so and feel so."

Down in a corner of Indiana where the Lincolns lived there were slaves for years after the admission of the State to the Union, in spite of the ordinance of 1787 and the statutes which Lincoln read in his youth. Nor was the fact a secret. The census of 1820 showed one hundred and ninety slaves, but during the next year the State Supreme Court declared them free.

In the following year (1822) occurred a great moral revolution on the frontier. Then commenced the struggle between the friends and opponents of slavery which lasted until the Emancipation Proclamation was signed. Abraham Lincoln, with the preparation I have described, was from the beginning an active participant, and gradually became a leader in one of the greatest controversies that has ever engaged the intellectual and moral forces of the world.

In 1822, eight years before the Lincoln family left Indiana, an attempt was made to introduce slavery into Illinois, and was defeated by Edward Coles, of Virginia, the Governor, who gave his entire salary for four years to pay the expense of the contest. The antislavery members of the Legislature contributed a thousand dollars to the fund, which was spent in the distribution of literature on the subject. For a time the storm subsided, but the deep hatred of the iniquity was spreading through the North, and abolition societies were being organized in every city and village where the friends of human freedom existed in sufficient numbers to sustain themselves against the powerful proslavery sentiment. Occasionally there was a public discussion, but the controversy raged most fiercely at the corner groceries, at the county court-house, and at other places where thinking men were in the habit of assembling, and Lincoln was always ready and eager to enter the debates. His convictions were formed and grew firmer as he studied the question, and his moral courage developed with them. It was a good deal of an ordeal for an ambitious young man just beginning his career to attack a popular institution, in the midst of a community many of whom had been born and educated in slave States and considered what he believed a curse to be a divine institution. Nevertheless, the sense of justice and humanity stimulated Abraham Lincoln to take his place upon the side of freedom, and he never lost an opportunity to denounce slavery as founded on injustice and wrong.

His first opportunity to make a public avowal of his views occurred in 1838, when the Illinois Legislature passed a series of resolutions declaring that the right of property in slaves is sacred to the slave-holding States by the Federal Constitution, and "that we highly disapprove of the formation of abolition societies and of the doctrines promulgated by them." Lincoln and five other members of the Legislature voted against these resolutions; and in order to make his position more fully understood by his constituents and the members of the Whig party throughout the State, he prepared a protest, which he persuaded Dan Stone, one of his colleagues from Sangamon County, to sign with him, and, at their request, it was spread upon the journal of the House, as follows:

"Resolutions upon the subject of domestic slavery having passed both branches of the General Assembly at its present session, the undersigned hereby protest against the passage of the same.

"They believe that the institution of slavery is founded on both injustice and bad policy, but that the promulgation of abolition doctrines tends rather to increase than abate its evils.

"They believe that the Congress of the United States has no power under the Constitution to interfere with the institution of slavery in the different States.

"They believe that the Congress of the United States has the power, under the Constitution, to abolish slavery in the District of Columbia, but that the power ought not to be exercised, unless at the request of the people of the District.

"The difference between these opinions and those contained in the said resolutions is their reasons for entering this protest."

This, I am confident, is the first formal declaration against the system of slavery that was made in any legislative body in the United States, at least west of the Hudson River.

A few months after this event occurred the tragic death of the Rev. Elijah P. Lovejoy, editor of a religious newspaper at Alton, whose antislavery editorials enraged the proslavery mob, which murdered him and threw his press and type into the Mississippi River. In this case, as in many others, the blood of a martyr was the seed of the faith. The mob that murdered Elijah P. Lovejoy did more to crystallize public opinion and stimulate the movement than all the arguments and appeals uttered up to that date.

After his bold action in the Legislature Lincoln was recognized as the antislavery leader in the central part of Illinois, but was frequently the object of criticism because of his conservative views. He argued, then, as he did twenty-five years later, that the Constitution of the United States was sacred, and as long as it existed must be obeyed. It recognized the right to hold slaves in certain States, and therefore that right could not be denied until the Constitution was appropriately amended. The friends of freedom were at liberty to denounce the great wrong, but they must proceed legally in securing its removal. This position was taken by Lincoln when he was only twenty-eight years old, and he held it until the abolition of slavery became a military necessity. At the same time he was patiently and confidently trying to educate public sentiment and lead the abolition movement in the right direction.

Lincoln's second opportunity to place himself formally on record occurred when he was a member of the House of Representatives, where the controversy had been carried long before, and had been revived and vitalized by the treaty with Mexico at the close of the war of 1848, which added to the United States a territory as large as half of Europe. The slave-holders immediately demanded it for their own, but in the previous Congress the Whig and antislavery Democrats had succeeded in attaching to an appropriation bill an amendment known as the Wilmot Proviso, which prohibited the extension of slavery into the territory recently acquired. This had been followed up by the adoption of similar provisions wherever the Whigs could get an opportunity to attach them to other legislation. Lincoln used to say that during his two years in Congress he voted for the Wilmot Proviso in one form or another more than fifty times.

Upon his arrival in Washington his horror of the slavery system and the impressions received during his voyages to New Orleans were revived by witnessing the proceedings and the distress in the slave-markets of the national capital, and he determined to devote his best efforts to a removal of that scandal and reproach. Fifteen years later, in one of his speeches during the debate with Douglas, he described the slave-shambles of Washington, and said, "In view from the windows of the Capitol a sort of negro livery stable where droves of negroes were collected, temporarily kept, and finally taken to Southern markets, precisely like droves of horses, has been openly maintained for more than fifty years."

He believed that Congress had power under the Constitution to regulate all affairs in the Territories and the District of Columbia, and, after consulting with several of the leading citizens of Washington, he introduced a bill for the gradual abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia. The first two sections prohibit the introduction of slaves within the limits of the District or the selling of them out of it, exception being made to the servants of officials of the government from the slave-holding States. The third section provides for the apprenticeship and gradual emancipation of children born of slave mothers after January 1, 1850. The fourth provides full compensation for all slaves voluntarily made free by their owners. The fifth recognizes the fugitive-slave law, and the sixth submits the proposition to a popular vote, and provides that it shall not go into force until ratified by a majority of the voters of the District.

This bill met with more violent opposition from other parts of the country than from the slave-holders who were directly affected. The people of the South feared that it might serve as a precedent for similar actions in other parts of the country and stimulate the antislavery sentiment of the North. On the other hand, the abolitionists, with that unreasonable spirit which usually governs men of radical views, condemned the measure as a compromise with wrong, and declared that they would never permit money from the public treasury to be expended for the purchase of human beings. No action was taken in Congress. The bill was referred to the appropriate committee and was stuffed into a pigeonhole, where it was never disturbed; but it is a remarkable coincidence that less than fifteen years later it was Lincoln's privilege to approve an act of Congress for the abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia.

It is interesting to watch the development of Lincoln's views on the slavery question, as revealed by his public utterances and private letters during the great struggle between 1850 and 1860, until the people of the republic named him as umpire to decide the greatest question that ever engaged the moral and intellectual attention of a people. Here and there appear curious phrases, startling predictions, vivid epigrams, and unanswerable arguments. For example, in 1855 he declared that "the autocrat of all the Russias will resign his crown and proclaim free republicans sooner than will our American masters voluntarily give up their slaves." A reference to the dates will show that Alexander II., by imperial decree, emancipated the serfs of Russia almost upon the same day, at the same hour, that the Southern States began the greatest war of modern times to protect and extend the institution of slavery.

At Rochester, in the summer of 1859, Mr. Seward furnished the Republican party a watch-cry when he called it "the irrepressible conflict," but two years before and repeatedly after Lincoln uttered the same idea in almost the same phrase. In three Presidential campaigns, in two contests for the Senate, and in almost every local political contest after 1840 slavery was the principal theme of his speeches, until the Douglas debate of 1858 caused him to be recognized as the most powerful advocate and defender of antislavery doctrines.

Senator Douglas found great amusement in accusing Lincoln of a desire to establish social equality between the whites and the blacks, and in his speeches seldom failed to evoke a roar of laughter by declaring that "Abe Lincoln" and other abolitionists "wanted to marry niggers." Lincoln paid no attention to this vulgar joke until he saw that it was becoming serious, and that many people actually believed that the abolitionists were proposing to do what Douglas had said. He attempted to remove this impression by a serious discussion of the doctrine of equality, and in one of his speeches declared, "I protest against the counterfeit logic which concludes that because I do not want a black woman for a slave I must necessarily want her for a wife." In another speech he said, "I shall never marry a negress, but I have no objection to any one else doing so. If a white man wants to marry a negro woman, let him do it,—if the negro woman can stand it."

At another time he said, "If I saw a venomous snake crawling in the road, any man would say I might seize the nearest stick and kill it; but if I found that snake in bed with my children, that would be another question. I might hurt the children more than the snake, and it might bite them. Much more, it I found it in bed with my neighbor's children, and I had bound myself by a solemn compact not to meddle with his children under any circumstances, it would become me to let that particular mode of getting rid of that gentleman alone. But if there was a bed newly made up, to which the children were to be taken, and it was proposed to take a batch of young snakes and put them there with them, I take it that no man would question how I ought to decide."

In his Cooper Union speech may be found his strongest argument. "If slavery is right, all words, acts, laws, and constitutions against it are themselves wrong, and should be silenced and swept away. If it is right, we cannot justly object to its nationality,—its universality. If it is wrong, they cannot justly insist upon its extension,—its enlargement. All they ask we could readily grant, if we thought slavery right; all we ask they could as readily grant, if they thought it wrong. Their thinking it right, and our thinking it wrong, is the precise fact upon which depends the whole controversy.... Wrong as we think slavery is, we can yet afford to let it alone where it is, because that much is due to the necessity arising from its actual presence in the nation; but can we, while our votes will prevent it, allow it to spread into the national Territories, and to overrun us here in the free States? If our sense of duty forbids this, then let us stand by our duty fearlessly and effectively. Let us be diverted by none of those sophistical contrivances wherewith we are so industriously plied and belabored, contrivances such as groping for some middle ground between the right and the wrong, vain as the search for a man who should be neither a living man nor a dead man; such as a policy of 'don't care,' on a question about which all true men do care; such as Union appeals beseeching true Union men to yield to disunionists; reversing the divine rule, and calling, not the sinners, but the righteous to repentance; such as invocations to Washington, imploring men to unsay what Washington said, and undo what Washington did. Neither let us be slandered from our duty by false accusations against us, nor frightened from it by menaces of destruction to the government nor of dungeons to ourselves. Let us have faith that right makes might, and in that faith let us, to the end, dare to do our duty as we understand it."

In a letter dated July 28, 1859, he wrote, "There is another thing our friends are doing which gives me some uneasiness.... Douglas's popular sovereignty, accepted by the public mind as a just principle, nationalizes slavery, and revives the African slave-trade inevitably. Taking slaves into new Territories, and buying slaves in Africa, are identical things, identical rights or identical wrongs, and the argument which establishes one will establish the other. Try a thousand years for a sound reason why Congress shall not hinder the people of Kansas from having slaves, and when you have found it, it will be an equally good one why Congress should not hinder the people of Georgia from importing slaves from Africa."

While he was campaigning in Ohio, in 1859, occurred the John Brown episode at Harper's Ferry, which created intense excitement throughout the entire country and particularly in the South, where it was interpreted as an organized attempt of the abolitionists to arouse an insurrection among the slaves. In his speeches Lincoln did much to allay public sentiment in Illinois, for he construed the attack upon Harper's Ferry with his habitual common sense. He argued that it was not a slave insurrection, but an attempt to organize one in which the slaves refused to participate, and he compared it with many attempts related in history to assassinate kings and emperors. "An enthusiast broods over the oppression of a people until he fancies himself commissioned by heaven to liberate them. He ventures the attempt, which ends in little else than his own execution. Orsini's attempt on Louis Napoleon and John Brown's attempt at Harper's Ferry were, in their philosophy, precisely the same. The eagerness to cast blame on Old England in one case and on New England in the other does not disprove the sameness of the two things."

It was not long after the inauguration that President Lincoln was compelled to treat the slavery problem in a practical manner. To him it ceased to be a question of morals and became an actual, perplexing problem continually appearing in every direction and in various forms. The first movement of troops dislodged from the plantations of their owners a multitude of slaves, who found their way to the camps of the Union army and were employed as servants, teamsters, and often as guides. The Northern soldier took a sympathetic interest in the escaped slave, and as fast as he advanced into slave territory the greater that sympathy became. A Virginia planter looking for a fugitive slave in a Union camp was a familiar object of ridicule and derision, and he seldom found any satisfaction.

One day the representative of Colonel Mallory, a Virginia planter, came into the Union lines at Fortress Monroe and demanded three field-hands who, he asserted, were at that time in the camp. General B. F. Butler, who was in command, replied that, as Virginia claimed to be a foreign country, the fugitive-slave law could not possibly be in operation there, and declined to surrender the negroes unless the owner would take the oath of allegiance to the United States. A newspaper correspondent, in reporting this incident, took the ground that, as the Confederate commanders were using negroes as laborers upon fortifications, under international law they were clearly contraband of war. A new word was coined. From that moment, and until the struggle was over, escaped negroes were known as "contrabands," and public opinion in the North decided that they were subject to release or confiscation by military right and usage. General Butler always assumed the credit of formulating that doctrine, and insisted that the correspondent had adopted a suggestion overheard at the mess-table; but, however it originated, it had more influence upon the solution of the problem than volumes of argument might have had. When it became known among the negroes in Virginia that the Union troops would not send them back to slavery, the plantations were deserted and the Northern camps were crowded with men, women, and children of all ages, who had to be clothed and fed. General Butler relieved the embarrassment by sending the able-bodied men to work upon the fortifications, by utilizing the women as cooks and laundresses, and by permitting his officers to employ them as servants.

After a time the exodus spread to Washington, and the slaves in that city began to find their way across the Potomac into the military camps, which caused a great deal of dissatisfaction and seemed to have an unfavorable effect upon the political action of Maryland, West Virginia, Kentucky, and Missouri; so that President Lincoln was appealed to from all sides to order the execution of the fugitive-slave law in States which he was trying to keep in the Union. He believed that public sentiment was growing and would ultimately furnish a solution. He quoted the Methodist presiding elder, riding about his circuit at the time of the spring freshets, whose young companion showed great anxiety as to how they should cross Fox River, then very much swollen. The elder replied that he had made it the rule of his life never to cross Fox River until he came to it.

With the same philosophical spirit, Lincoln made the negro question "a local issue," to be treated by each commander and the police of each place as circumstances suggested, and, under his instructions, the commandant at Washington issued an order that "fugitive slaves will under no pretext whatever be permitted to reside, or be in any way harbored, in the quarters and camps of the troops serving in this department." This served to satisfy the complaints of the Maryland planters and the slave-holders of the District of Columbia until Congress passed the confiscation act, which forfeited the property rights of disloyal owners. That was the first step towards emancipation.

President Lincoln's plan to invest military commanders with practical authority to solve the negro problem according to their individual judgment soon got him into trouble, especially with his Secretary of War, for the latter, in his report to Congress, without the knowledge of the President and without consulting him, explained the policy of the government as follows:

"If it shall be found that the men who have been held by the rebels as slaves are capable of bearing arms and performing efficient military service, it is right, and may become the duty, of the government to arm and equip them, and employ their services against the rebels, under proper military regulation, discipline, and command."

The report did not reach the public; it was suppressed and modified before being printed in the newspapers; but that paragraph made Mr. Cameron's resignation necessary. As amended, the report contained a simple declaration that fugitive and abandoned slaves, being an important factor in the military situation, would not be returned to disloyal masters, but would be employed so far as possible in the services of the Union army, and withheld from the enemy until Congress should make some permanent disposition of them.

Lincoln was severely criticised by the antislavery newspapers of the North. But he did not lose his patience, and in his message to Congress declared his intention to keep the integrity of the Union prominent "as the primary object of the contest on our part, leaving all questions which are not of vital military importance to the more deliberate action of the Legislature." But while he was writing these guarded and ambiguous phrases he had already decided to propose a plan of voluntary abolition for the District of Columbia similar to that he had offered in Congress thirteen years before. It was a measure of expediency and delay. He evidently had no expectation that such a proposition would be adopted. He undoubtedly realized that it was impossible; but his political sagacity and knowledge of human nature taught him that the public, to use a homely but significant expression which was familiar to his childhood, "must have something to chaw on," and further illustrated his point by reminding a caller how easily an angry dog might be diverted by throwing him a bone.

He soon followed this up by proposing to Delaware a scheme for the purchase by the government of the seventeen hundred and ninety-eight slaves shown by the census of 1860 to be still held in that State, at the rate of four hundred dollars per capita. A majority of the Lower House of the Legislature of Delaware accepted the idea, but the Senate rejected it and the subject was dropped. But Lincoln did not allow the minds of his antislavery critics to rest. He kept them busy discussing new propositions, and on March 6, 1862, sent a special message to the two Houses of Congress recommending the gradual abolishment of slavery by furnishing to the several States from the public treasury sufficient funds "to compensate for the inconveniences, public and private, produced by such change of system." By this proposition he avoided the objections to the general government interfering with the domestic affairs of the States, and left the people of each State to arrange for emancipation in their own way. "It is proposed as a matter of perfectly free choice with them," he said in his message, and again called attention to the probable effects of the war upon the slave situation. The representatives of the border States in Congress took no heed of the warning, but the Northern papers devoted a great deal of space to a discussion of the proposition, and Lincoln's purpose of giving them something to talk about was accomplished. The most serious objection was based upon the enormous expenses. As early as 1839 Henry Clay estimated the value of the slaves at one billion two hundred and fifty million dollars, and upon the same basis of calculation it must have exceeded two billion dollars in 1860; but Lincoln answered that one-half day's cost of the war would pay for all the slaves in Delaware at four hundred dollars a head, and that eighty-seven days' cost would pay for all the slaves in the border States.

He called together the Congressional delegates from the border States and made an earnest effort to convince them of the expediency of his plan. The House of Representatives adopted it by a two-thirds vote, although few of the members from Maryland, Kentucky, and Missouri voted with the affirmative. A month later the resolution was concurred in by the Senate, and what Thaddeus Stevens, the radical leader of the House, described as "the most diluted milk-and-water-gruel proposition ever given to the American people" became a law.

It is not necessary to say that the Legislatures of the border States never had an opportunity to take advantage of the proposition; history moved too fast for them. But Lincoln at once began a systematic campaign in Congress to secure legislation for the purchase of all the slaves belonging to loyal owners in the District of Columbia, and that became a law on April 16, 1862.

Public opinion was being rapidly educated; the Republican majority in Congress was pledged to the doctrine of emancipation; the slave-holders in the border States were being led gradually to realize the inevitable, and if they had been wise they would promptly have accepted the generosity of the President's proposition and thus have escaped the enormous pecuniary losses which they suffered by the Emancipation Proclamation a little later.

Before Congress adjourned, laws were passed which materially altered the situation. The army was prohibited from surrendering fugitive slaves; the confiscation act was greatly enlarged; all slaves actually employed in military service by the Confederacy were declared free; the President was authorized to enlist negro regiments for the war; the Missouri Compromise was restored; slavery was forbidden in all Territories of the United States; appropriations were made for carrying into effect the treaty with Great Britain to suppress the slave-trade; the independence and sovereignty of Hayti and Liberia, two black republics, were formally recognized, and two nations of negroes, with negro Presidents, negro officials, and negro ambassadors, were admitted on an equality into the sisterhood of civilized nations. Any one who would have predicted such legislation a year previous would have been considered insane, even six months previous it would have been declared impossible.

The next sensation was an emancipation proclamation issued by General David Hunter, who commanded the Department of the South, which declared free all persons held as slaves in the States of Georgia, Florida, and South Carolina. Lincoln promptly vetoed Hunter's order and declared it unauthorized and void, saying that he reserved to himself, "as Commander-in-Chief of the army and navy, to declare the slaves of any State or States free" when "it shall have become a necessity indispensable to the maintenance of the government."

This announcement should have satisfied the North and have been a sufficient warning to the South, because as we read it now we can see Lincoln's purposes between the lines.

The President could not permit the Congressional delegations from the border States to return to their constituents without one more admonition and one more appeal to their patriotism and their sense of justice and wisdom. He called them to the White House and read to them a carefully prepared argument in support of his plan to sell their slaves to the government. Two-thirds of them united in an explanation of their reasons for rejecting the scheme on account of its impracticability, and the remainder promised to submit it to their constituents. The reception of this last appeal convinced Lincoln that he could do nothing by moral suasion, and he immediately determined to try the use of force.

"It has got to be," he told a friend afterwards. "We had played our last card and must change our tactics or lose the game; and I now determined upon the adoption of the emancipation policy, and, without consultation with or the knowledge of the Cabinet, I prepared the original draft of the proclamation."

On July 22, 1862, he read to his Cabinet the first draft of a proclamation, not for the purpose of asking their advice, he told them, but for their information. But every man was pledged to confidence, and the secret was so well kept that the public had no suspicion of his intention, and the radical newspapers and abolitionists continued to criticise and attack him in a most abusive manner. A committee of clergymen from Chicago came to Washington to urge him to issue an emancipation proclamation. He received them respectfully, but did not tell them that their wishes would have been anticipated but for the defeat of the Union army at the second battle of Bull Run. He made them an eloquent but evasive speech, and appealed to their good sense. "Now, gentlemen," he said, "if I cannot enforce the Constitution down South, how can I enforce a mere Presidential proclamation? I do not want to issue a document that the whole world will see must necessarily be inoperative like the Pope's Bull against the comet."

Mr. Colfax, who accompanied the delegation, says that "one of these ministers felt it his duty to make a more searching appeal to the President's conscience. Just as they were retiring, he turned and said to Mr. Lincoln,—

"'What you have said to us, Mr. President, compels me to say, in reply, that it is a message to you from our Divine Master, through me, commanding you, sir, to open the doors of bondage that the slave may go free!'

"Mr. Lincoln replied instantly, 'That may be, sir, for I have studied this question by night and by day for weeks and for months; but if it is, as you say, a message from your Divine Master, is it not odd that the only channel he could send it by was that roundabout route by that awfully wicked city of Chicago?'

"In discussing the question, he used to liken the case to that of the boy who, when asked how many legs his calf would have if he called his tail a leg, replied, 'Five.' To which the prompt response was made that calling the tail a leg would not make it a leg.

"He sought to measure so accurately, so precisely, the public sentiment that, whenever he advanced, the loyal hosts of the nation would keep step with him. In regard to the policy of arming the slaves against the Rebellion, never, until the tide of patriotic volunteering had ebbed and our soldiers saw their ranks rapidly melting away, could our colored troops have been added to their brigades without perilous discontent, if not open revolt. Against all appeals, all demands, against even threats of some members of his party, Lincoln stood like a rock on this question until he felt that the opportune moment had arrived."

Not only was he denounced by the abolitionists, but by the foremost leaders of the Republican party, such as Benjamin F. Wade and Horace Greeley, and received appeals from loyal people of the South, to whom he replied, with his usual patience, "What is done and omitted about the slaves is done and omitted on the same military necessity. I shall not do more than I can, and shall do all that I can, to save the government."

In his view, military necessity was the only justification for the violation of the Constitution, which protected the slaves. In the second place, his delay was due to a doubt whether public sentiment in the North was prepared for a measure so radical and far-reaching; by his hope that the people of the border States would soon be willing to accept the act as a friendly as well as a necessary solution of a dilemma; and, finally, because of his profound respect for the Constitution which he had sworn to maintain. He would not free the negro because the Constitution stood in his way, and only for the sake of the Union was he willing to override that sacred instrument. This purpose was tersely expressed when, under great provocation, he allowed himself to violate his own rule and reply to Horace Greeley, who had attacked him in an open letter of unjust censure, accusing him of neglecting his duty.

"I would save the Union," he said, frankly. "I would save it in the shortest way under the Constitution. If there be those who would not save the Union unless they could at the same time save slavery, I do not agree with them. If there be those who would not save the Union unless they could, at the same time, destroy slavery, I do not agree with them. My paramount object in this struggle is to save the Union, and is not either to save or to destroy slavery. If I could save the Union without freeing any slave, I would do it; and if I could save it by freeing all the slaves, I would do it; and if I could save 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 shall do less whenever I believe what I am doing hurts the cause, and I shall do more whenever I believe doing more will help the cause. I shall try to correct errors when shown to be errors, and I shall adopt new views so fast as they shall appear to be true views."

Contemplating the events in the history of emancipation in a perspective of forty years, it is difficult to say whether we admire more the skill with which President Lincoln led public sentiment along with him or the reticence and dignity with which he restrained his own desire to yield to the influence of the good people of the North and protect himself from the clamor of his critics. His letter to Mr. Greeley was not an argument in a controversy, nor an apology for or defence of his policy; but he intended it to be a warning to prepare the slave-holders of the border States and the South for an event which only he and his Cabinet knew was about to happen, and, at the same time, to divert the attention of the Union people of the North until a favorable opportunity arrived for proclaiming freedom.

Mr. Greeley was not satisfied with the assurances contained in the letter, and continued to attack the President in a persistent manner. He was invited to come to Washington and "fight it out in private," but sent his managing editor instead, who spent an interesting evening and had an animated argument with the President; but the latter could not trust him with the momentous secret, and was compelled to wait until a Union victory offered a favorable opportunity to take the step he contemplated. As he told the Chicago pastors, he had not decided against a proclamation of liberty for the slaves, but held the matter under advisement. "And I can assure you," he added, "that the subject is on my mind by day and by night; more than any other. Whatever shall appear to be God's will I will do."

Accordingly, on September 22, 1862, after the battle of Antietam, he called his Cabinet together and announced his intention to issue a proclamation of emancipation. "I have gotten you together to hear what I have written down," he said. "I do not want your advice about the main matter, because I have determined that myself. This I say without intending anything but respect for all of you. I alone must bear the responsibility for taking the course which I feel I ought to take."

The preliminary proclamation was issued, and in his annual message to Congress on December 1, 1862, Lincoln recommended the passage of a joint resolution proposing a constitutional amendment providing compensation for every State which would abolish slavery before the year 1900, another guaranteeing freedom to all slaves that had been released by the chances of war, and a third authorizing Congress to provide a plan of colonization for them. His idea was to send them either to Africa, to the West Indies, or to Central America, and he encouraged several extensive plans of colonization, which, however, were not carried into practical operation. In this connection it is interesting to recall the reminiscences of General Butler, who says that shortly before the assassination the President sent for him and said,—

"'General Butler, I am troubled about the negroes. We are soon to have peace. We have got some one hundred and odd thousand negroes who have been trained to arms. When peace shall come I fear lest these colored men shall organize themselves in the South, especially in the States where the negroes are in preponderance in numbers, into guerilla parties, and we shall have down there a warfare between the whites and the negroes. In the course of the reconstruction of the government it will become a question of how the negro is to be disposed of. Would it not be possible to export them to some place, say Liberia or South America, and organize them into communities to support themselves?'

"General Butler replied, 'We have large quantities of clothing to clothe them, and arms and everything necessary for them, even to spades and shovels, mules, and wagons. Our war has shown that an army organization is the very best for digging up the soil and making intrenchments. Witness the very many miles of intrenchments that our soldiers have dug out. I know of a concession of the United States of Colombia for a tract of thirty miles wide across the Isthmus of Panama for opening a ship canal. The enlistments of the negroes have all of them from two or three years to run. Why not send them all down there to dig the canal? They will withstand the climate, and the work can be done with less cost to the United States in that way than in any other. If you choose, I will take command of the expedition. We will take our arms with us, and I need not suggest to you that we will need nobody sent down to guard us from the interference of any nation. We will proceed to cultivate the land and supply ourselves with all the fresh food that can be raised in the tropics, which will be all that will be needed, and your stores of provisions and supplies of clothing will furnish all the rest. Shall I work out the details of such an expedition for you, Mr. President?'

"He reflected for some time, and then said, 'There is meat in that suggestion, General Butler; there is meat in that suggestion. Go and talk to Seward and see what foreign complications there will be about it.'

"But that evening Secretary Seward, in his drive before dinner, was thrown from his carriage and severely injured, his jaw being broken, and he was confined to his bed until the assassination of Lincoln and the attempted murder of himself by one of the confederates of Booth, so that the subject could never be again mentioned to Mr. Lincoln."

The final proclamation was issued on January 1, 1863. On the afternoon of December 31, after the Cabinet meeting was over Lincoln rewrote the document with great care, embodying in it several suggestions which had been made by his Cabinet, but rigidly adhering to the spirit of the original. In his judgment, the time had now come for adopting this extreme measure, and "upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of justice, warranted by the Constitution upon military necessity, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind and the gracious favor of Almighty God."

The morning of New Year's day was occupied by the official reception, and the President was kept busy until about three o'clock in the afternoon, when he went to the Executive Chamber, took the manuscript from a drawer in his desk, wrote his name, and closed a controversy that had raged for half a century. He carefully laid away the pen he had used for Mr. Sumner, who had promised to obtain it for George Livermore, of Cambridge, Massachusetts, an old abolitionist and the author of a work on slavery which had greatly interested Lincoln. It was a steel pen with an ordinary wooden handle, such as is used by school-children and can be bought for a penny at any stationery store. The end of the holder showed the marks of Lincoln's teeth, for he had a habit of putting his pen-holder into his mouth whenever he was puzzled in composition.

Lincoln's own commentary and explanation of the step which led to this edict of freedom was written little more than a year later, to a friend, and should be carefully studied before forming a judgment upon the reasons for and the consequences of that act:

"I am naturally antislavery," he said. "If slavery is not wrong, nothing is wrong. I cannot remember when I did not so think and feel, and yet I have never understood that the Presidency conferred upon me an unrestricted right to act officially upon this judgment and feeling. It was in the oath I took that I would, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States. I could not take the office without taking the oath. Nor was it my view that I might take an oath to get power, and break the oath in using the power. I understood, too, that in ordinary civil administration this oath even forbade me to practically indulge my primary abstract judgment on the moral question of slavery. I had publicly declared this many times, and in many ways. And I aver that, to this day, I have done no official act in mere deference to my abstract judgment and feeling on slavery. I did understand, however, that my oath to preserve the Constitution to the best of my ability imposed upon me the duty of preserving, by every indispensable means, that government, that nation, of which that Constitution was the organic law. Was it possible to lose the nation and yet preserve the Constitution? By general law, life and limb must be protected, yet often a limb must be amputated to save a life; but a life is never wisely given to save a limb. I felt that measures otherwise unconstitutional might become lawful by becoming indispensable to the preservation of the Constitution, through the preservation of the nation. Right or wrong, I assumed this ground, and now avow it. I could not feel that, to the best of my ability, I had even tried to preserve the Constitution if, to save slavery or any minor matter, I should permit the wreck of government, country, and Constitution all together. When, early in the war, General FrÉmont attempted military emancipation, I forbade it, because I did not then think it an indispensable necessity. When, a little later, General Cameron, then Secretary of War, suggested the arming of the blacks, I objected, because I did not yet think it an indispensable necessity. When, still later, General Hunter attempted military emancipation, I again forbade it, because I did not yet think the indispensable necessity had come. When in March and May and July, 1862, I made earnest and successive appeals to the border States to favor compensated emancipation, I believed the indispensable necessity for military emancipation and arming the blacks would come unless averted by that measure. They declined the proposition, and I was, in my best judgment, driven to the alternative of either surrendering the Union, and with it the Constitution, or of laying strong hand upon the colored element. I chose the latter."

Lincoln did not live to witness the consummation or the consequences of the edict. The preliminary resolution for a constitutional amendment was not secured until after a long struggle in Congress and against the most determined opposition. Were it not for Lincoln's political skill and tact, it might never have been adopted. The work of ratification by the loyal States was not completed until December, 1865, when Mr. Seward, still Secretary of State, issued a proclamation announcing that the thirteenth amendment had been ratified by twenty-seven of the thirty-six States then composing the Union, and that slavery and involuntary servitude were from that time and forever impossible within the limits of the United States.

Some one has arranged the Emancipation Proclamation so that its words form an accurate profile of Abraham Lincoln's face. The picture is perfect and not a letter of the document is wanting.

Lincoln's ideas concerning the enfranchisement of the negroes were expressed in a letter to Governor Hahn congratulating him upon having his name fixed in history as the first free Governor of the State of Louisiana, and saying, "Now, you are about to have a convention which, among other things, will probably define the elective franchise. I barely suggest for your private consideration whether some of the colored people may not be let in,—as, for instance, the very intelligent, and especially those who have fought gallantly in our ranks. They would probably help, in some trying time to come, to keep the jewel of liberty safe within the family of freedom. But this is only a suggestion—not to the public, but to you alone."

A LETTER TO HON. MICHAEL HAHN, FIRST FREE STATE GOVERNOR OF LOUISIANA

By special permission of John M. Crampton, Esq., New Haven, Connecticut