“Canada!” Captain DuBose shouted, jumping to his feet. “Canada with the salaud English clumped up there thick as fleas on an old dog. We cannot be here by chance. Is that it, General? We are here to make things very bad for the English?”
“Yes, gentlemen, that is it.”
TAKING THE WAR TO THE ENEMY
Lincoln looked around at the members of his Cabinet, and shook his head in disbelief. He pulled his bony legs up before him, resting his heels on the edge of his chair, and wrapped his arms around them. “Why I have not seen as many long faces since my last visit to a livery stable. We should be celebrating victory gentlemen, not looking as though we have suffered dismal defeat.”
“The war is at a stalemate,” Secretary of War Stanton said. “Sherman has stopped at the Canadian border. The British sink our merchant ships at sea, then land and pillage our shores at will. They justify these actions by saying that a state of war still exists between their country and ours. This is nonsense. They invaded us. Congress declared that a state of war did exist only after their invasions. Now that they have been hurled back from our land, have been defeated at sea — what cause do they have for these continued murderous attacks on our citizenry?”
“None whatsoever, seeing that they have agreed to discuss peace,” Seward said, with equal gloom. “But despite this agreement the Prussian talks progress not at all. Adams has presented our terms, which are reasonable indeed, but nothing pleases Palmerston or his lackeys. The British representatives in Berlin still make impossible demands for reparations, apologies, everything they can think of — other than seriously discussing peace. I feel that the Tory government is determined to press on with this war and only agreed to the talks to quiet the opposition parties in Parliament.”
“Let us then talk of the good news,” the President said. “The Reconstruction Bill has passed the lower house and will surely be approved by the Senate. When I sign it into law we will see the beginning of the end, hopefully, of our internal war. As regards the broader conflict I assure you that our generals are not standing still. If the British do not want peace then they shall see enough war to give them their fill. I have the distinct feeling that they will be far more surprised than we will be at the developments in the near future.”
“What do you mean?” Seward asked. “As Secretary of State I should be privy to all war plans.”
“You should be — and so should I,” the President said. “But there are also times when you should play poker with your cards close to your chest. The city of Washington is populated by foreign agents, eager to seek out any tiny nugget of information and sell it on. But you should at least know that certain operations are in progress. Orders have gone out, carried by hand since we found numberless taps, people listening in, on our telegraph wires. I, personally, do not know the details of these endeavors, so no one in this Cabinet should feel put out. What I can tell you is that the British in Canada are due for some interesting experiences in the very near future.”
There was a secretive smile on his face when he left the Cabinet Room, almost mischievous. It might be safe to tell them what was in the wind, but Chase was a great gossip. Seward would undoubtedly tell his daughter; word might leak out. Better to just not talk about it no matter how put out the Cabinet might feel.
Hay met the President in the hall as he left the Cabinet Room.
“The delegation of Negroes is here now. I let them into the President’s Office to wait. Told them you would be there as soon as the Cabinet meeting was over.”
“I will see them now. Do you have any inkling of what they have in mind?”
“None at all, although I did make inquiries as you asked me to.”
“Then we shall see, we shall see.” He turned the knob and went in.
The men stood when Lincoln entered. The well-dressed Negroes took this meeting very seriously, and looked with great interest at the man who was having the most drastic effect upon their lives.
“I believe that I have met some of you before at an earlier conference.”
“You have, Mr. President,” their leader E. M. Thomas said. “We had a most interesting discussion with you in this very same room.”
“We did indeed. As I recall your group then was less than enthusiastic about Congressional approval for the plan for Negro settlements in South America.”
Lincoln spoke without rancor, although the formation of the settlements had been a favorite of his. Then he realized that there was a newcomer in the group whom he had never seen before. A burly man with a thick growth of hair, a pointed beards — and the most concentrated and intense scowl that he had ever seen on a human face. The man pushed by the others and put out a muscular hand.
“I am Frederick Douglass, Mr. President,” he said. Shaking the man’s hand was like seizing a slab of wood.
“I of course know of you by reputation, Mr. Douglass. It is time we met.”
“Time indeed. The Reconstruction Bill that you presented to the Congress is as important as the Constitution itself. It is the first step along the road that will lead to the freedom of my people. Your stature among the Negroes, both in the North and South has never been equaled by another human being. Uncle Linkum, as the slaves call you, places you upon a pinnacle in Zion. Every other boy baby is now named Abraham in your honor.”
“Indeed…” the President said, for once at a loss for words. The others in the group murmured in agreement to Douglass’s words.
“That is why you must do more,” Douglass said with grim intensity; the murmurs of approval turned to gasps of shock. “Once you have set your foot upon the road of freedom you must walk the entire length of it. To the very end where my people must have the same rights as your people. To be free in every way, free to own their own property and free to vote in free elections.”
There was shocked silence among the listening men at the strong words addressed to the leader of the country. One of them pulled at the sleeve of Douglass’s jacket; he shrugged the man off.
Lincoln tugged at his beard, his face expressionless. “You make your views quite clear,” he finally said. “Now I suggest that we take our seats and see where this frank discussion might lead. In some of your speeches that I have read I note that you have a pretty poor opinion of this country that you want to join.”
“I do now — but that could change.”
“I surely hope so. I don’t see how a person who hates the Fourth of July can be a true American.”
If possible, Douglass’s perpetual scowl deepened. “I said that this holiday has no meaning for black Americans. Nor does it. Slavery brands your republicanism as a sham, your humanity as a base pretense, your Christianity as a lie.”
“In the slave states what you say is true. But soon slavery will be at an end.”
“It is my strongest wish to see that day. But it is my fear that the deeply prejudiced slave owners and planters will not surrender their slaves that easily. That is why we have come to meet with you this day. To bring you our aid. You must enlist the help of the former slaves to assure their own freedom. The black churches are united in the South and you must seek their cooperation. Other black organizations are also offering hope.”