By no means the least of the evils of slavery was a dread which
had haunted every southern household from the beginning of the
government that the slaves might one day rise in revolt and take
sudden vengeance upon their masters. This vague terror was
greatly increased by the outbreak of the Civil War. It stands to
the lasting credit of the negro race that the wrongs of their
long bondage provoked them to no such crime, and that the war
seems not to have suggested, much less started any such attempt.
Indeed, even when urged to violence by white leaders, as the
slaves of Maryland had been in 1859 during John Browns s raid at
Harper's Ferry, they had refused to respond. Nevertheless it was
plain from the first that slavery was to play an important part
in the Civil War. Not only were the people of the South battling
for the principle of slavery; their slaves were a great source of
military strength. They were used by the Confederates in building
forts, hauling supplies, and in a hundred ways that added to the
effectiveness of their armies in the field. On the other hand the
very first result of the war was to give adventurous or
discontented slaves a chance to escape into Union camps, where,
even against orders to the contrary, they found protection for
the sake of the help they could give as cooks, servants, or
teamsters, the information they brought about the movements of
the enemy, or the great service they were able to render as
guides. Practically therefore, at the very start, the war created
a bond of mutual sympathy between the southern negro and the
Union volunteer; and as fast as Union troops advanced and
secession masters fled, a certain number found freedom in Union
camps.

At some points this became a positive embarrassment to Union
commanders. A few days after General Butler took command of the
Union troops at Fortress Monroe in May, 1861, the agent of a
rebel master came to insist on the return of three slaves,
demanding them under the fugitive-slave law. Butler replied that
since their master claimed Virginia to be a foreign country and
no longer a part of the United States, he could not at the same
time claim that the fugitive slave law was in force, and that his
slaves would not be given up unless he returned and took the oath
of allegiance to the United States. In reporting this, a
newspaper pointed out that as the breastworks and batteries which
had risen so rapidly for Confederate defense were built by slave
labor, negroes were undoubtedly "contraband of war," like powder
and shot, and other military supplies, and should no more be
given back to the rebels than so many cannon or guns. The idea
was so pertinent, and the justice of it so plain that the name
"contraband" sprang at once into use. But while this happy
explanation had more convincing effect on popular thought than a
volume of discussion, it did not solve the whole question. By the
end of July General Butler had on his hands 900 "contrabands,"
men, women and children of all ages, and he wrote to inquire what
was their real condition. Were they slaves or free? Could they be
considered fugitive slaves when their masters had run away and
left them? How should they be disposed of? It was a knotty
problem, and upon its solution might depend the loyalty or
secession of the border slave States of Maryland, West Virginia,
Kentucky and Missouri, which, up to that time, had not decided
whether to remain in the Union or to cast their fortunes with the
South.

In dealing with this perplexing subject. Mr. Lincoln kept in mind
one of his favorite stories: the one on the Methodist Presiding
Elder who was riding about his circuit during the spring
freshets. A young and anxious companion asked how they should
ever be able to cross the swollen waters of Fox River, which they
were approaching, and the elder quieted him by saying that he
made it the rule of his life never to cross Fox River until he
came to it. The President, following this rule, did not
immediately decide the question, but left it to be treated at the
discretion of each commander. Under this theory some commanders
admitted black people to their camps, while others refused to
receive them. The curt formula of General Orders: "We are neither
negro stealers nor negro catchers," was easily read to justify
either course. Congress greatly advanced the problem, shortly
after the battle of Bull Run, by passing a law which took away a
master's right to his slave, when, with his consent, such slave
was employed in service or labor hostile to the United States.

On the general question of slavery, the President's mind was
fully made up. He felt that he had no right to interfere with
slavery where slavery was lawful, just because he himself did not
happen to like it; for he had sworn to do all in his power to
"preserve, protect and defend" the government and its laws, and
slavery was lawful in the southern States. When freeing the
slaves should become necessary in order to preserve the
Government, then it would be his duty to free them; until that
time came, it was equally his duty to let them alone.

Twice during the early part of the war military commanders issued
orders freeing slaves in the districts over which they had
control, and twice he refused to allow these orders to stand. "No
commanding general should do such a thing upon his
responsibility, without consulting him," he said; and he added
that whether he, as Commander-in-Chief, had the power to free
slaves, and whether at any time the use of such power should
become necessary, were questions which he reserved to himself. He
did not feel justified in leaving such decisions to commanders in
the field. He even refused at that time to allow Secretary
Cameron to make a public announcement that the government might
find it necessary to arm slaves and employ them as soldiers. He
would not cross Fox River until he came to it. He would not take
any measure until he felt it to be absolutely necessary.

Only a few months later he issued his first proclamation of
emancipation; but he did not do so until convinced that he must
do this in order to put down the rebellion. Long ago he had
considered and in his own mind adopted a plan of dealing with the
slavery question--the simple, easy plan which, while a member of
Congress, he had proposed for the District of Columbia--that on
condition of the slave-owners voluntarily giving up their slaves,
they should be paid a fair price for them by the Federal
government. Delaware was a slave State, and seemed an excellent
place in which to try this experiment of "compensated
emancipation," as it was called; for there were, all told, only
1798 slaves left in the State. Without any public announcement of
his purpose he offered to the citizens of Delaware, through their
representative in Congress, four hundred dollars for each of
these slaves, the payment to be made, not all at once, but
yearly, during a period of thirty-one years. He believed that if
Delaware could be induced to accept this offer, Maryland might
follow her example, and that afterward other States would allow
themselves to be led along the same easy way. The Delaware House
of Representatives voted in favor of the proposition, but five of
the nine members of the Delaware senate scornfully repelled the
"abolition bribe," as they chose to call it, and the project
withered in the bud.

Mr. Lincoln did not stop at this failure, but, on March 6, 1862,
sent a special message to the Senate and House of Representatives
recommending that Congress adopt a joint resolution favoring and
practically offering gradual compensated emancipation to any
State that saw fit to accept it; pointing out at the same time
that the Federal government claimed no right to interfere with
slavery within the States, and that if the offer were accepted it
must be done as a matter of free choice.

The Republican journals of the North devoted considerable space
to discussing the President's plan, which, in the main, was
favorably received; but it was thought that it must fail on the
score of expense. The President answered this objection in a
private letter to a Senator, proving that less than one-half
day's cost of war would pay for all the slaves in Delaware at
four hundred dollars each, and less than eighty-seven days' cost
of war would pay for all in Delaware, Maryland, the District of
Columbia, Kentucky and Missouri. "Do you doubt," he asked, that
taking such a step "on the part of those States and this District
would shorten the war more than eighty-seven days, and thus be an
actual saving of expense?"

Both houses of Congress favored the resolution, and also passed a
bill immediately freeing the slaves in the District of Columbia
on the payment to their loyal owners of three hundred dollars for
each slave. This last bill was signed by the President and became
a law on April 16, 1862. So, although he had been unable to bring
it about when a member of Congress thirteen years before, it was
he, after all, who finally swept away that scandal of the "negro
livery-stable" in the shadow of the dome of the Capitol.

Congress as well as the President was thus pledged to compensated
emancipation, and if any of the border slave States had shown a
willingness to accept the generosity of the government, their
people might have been spared the loss that overtook all
slave-owners on the first of January, 1863. The President twice
called the representatives and senators of these States to the
White House, and urged his plan most eloquently, but nothing came
of it. Meantime, the military situation continued most
discouraging. The advance of the Army of the Potomac upon
Richmond became a retreat; the commanders in the West could not
get control of the Mississippi River; and worst of all, in spite
of their cheering assurance that "We are coming, Father Abraham,
three hundred thousand strong," the people of the country were
saddened and filled with the most gloomy forebodings because of
the President's call for so many new troops.

"It had got to be midsummer, 1862," Mr. Lincoln said, in telling
an artist friend the history of his most famous official act.
"Things had gone on from bad to worse, until I felt that we had
reached the end of our rope on the plan of operations we had been
pursuing; that we had about played our last card, and must change
our tactics or lose the game. 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, and after much anxious thought, called a cabinet
meeting upon the subject. . . . I said to the cabinet that I had
resolved upon this step, and had not called them together to ask
their advice, but to lay the subject-matter of a proclamation
before them, suggestions as to which would be in order after they
had heard it read."

It was on July 22 that the President read to his cabinet the
draft of this first emancipation proclamation, which, after
announcing that at the next meeting of Congress he would again
offer compensated emancipation to such States as chose to accept
it, went on to order as Commander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy
of the United States, that the slaves in all States which should
be in rebellion against the government on January 1, 1863, should
"then, thenceforward and forever be free."

Mr. Lincoln had given a hint of this intended step to Mr. Seward
and Mr. Welles, but to all the other members of the cabinet it
came as a complete surprise. One thought it would cost the
Republicans the fall elections. Another preferred that
emancipation should be proclaimed by military commanders in their
several military districts. Secretary Seward, while approving the
measure, suggested that it would better be postponed until it
could be given to the country after a victory, instead of issuing
it, as would be the case then, upon the greatest disasters of the
war. "The wisdom of the view of the Secretary of State struck me
with very great force," Mr. Lincoln's recital continues. "It was
an aspect of the case that, in all my thought upon the subject, I
had entirely overlooked. The result was that I put the draft of
the proclamation aside, as you do your sketch for a picture,
waiting for a victory."

The secrets of the administration were well kept, and no hint
came to the public that the President had proposed such a measure
to his cabinet. As there was at the moment little in the way of
war news to attract attention, newspapers and private individuals
turned a sharp fire of criticism upon Mr. Lincoln. For this they
seized upon the ever-useful text of the slavery question. Some of
them protested indignantly that the President was going too fast;
others clamored as loudly that he had been altogether too slow.
His decision, as we know, was unalterably taken, although he was
not yet ready to announce it. Therefore, while waiting for a
victory he had to perform the difficult task of restraining the
impatience of both sides. This he did in very positive language.
To a man in Louisiana, who complained that Union feeling was
being crushed out by the army in that State, he wrote:

"I am a patient man, always willing to forgive on the Christian
terms of repentance, and also to give ample time for repentance.
Still, I must save this government if possible. What I cannot do,
of course I will not do; but it may as well be understood, once
for all, that I shall not surrender this game leaving any
available card unplayed." Two days later he answered another
Louisiana critic. "What would you do in my position? Would you
drop the war where it is? Or would you prosecute it in future
with elder-stalk squirts charged with rosewater? Would you deal
lighter blows rather than heavier ones? Would you give up the
contest leaving any available means unapplied? I am in no
boastful mood. I shall not do more than I can, and I shall do all
I can, to save the government, which is my sworn duty, as well as
my personal inclination. I shall do nothing in malice. What I
deal with is too vast for malicious dealing."

The President could afford to overlook the abuse of hostile
newspapers, but he also had to meet the criticisms of
over-zealous Republicans. The prominent Republican editor, Horace
Greeley, printed in his paper, the "New York Tribune," a long
"Open Letter," ostentatiously addressed to Mr. Lincoln, full of
unjust accusations, his general charge being that the President
and many army officers were neglecting their duty through a
kindly feeling for slavery. The open letter which Mr. Lincoln
wrote in reply is remarkable not alone for the skill with which
he answered this attack, but also for its great dignity.

"As to the policy I 'seem to be pursuing,' as you say, I have not
meant to leave anyone in doubt. . . . 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 shall believe what I am doing hurts the cause, and I shall do
more whenever I shall 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. I
have here stated my purpose according to my view of official
duty, and I intend no modification of my oft-expressed personal
wish that all men everywhere could be free."

He was waiting for victory, but victory was slow to come. Instead
the Union army suffered another defeat at the second battle of
Bull Run on August 30, 1862. After this the pressure upon him to
take some action upon slavery became stronger than ever. On
September 13 he was visited by a company of ministers from the
churches of Chicago, who came expressly to urge him to free the
slaves at once. In the actual condition of things he could of
course neither safely satisfy them nor deny them, and his reply,
while perfectly courteous, had in it a tone of rebuke that showed
the state of irritation and high sensitiveness under which he was
living:

"I am approached with the most opposite opinions and advice, and
that by religious men, who are equally certain that they
represent the Divine will. . . . I hope it will not be irreverent
for me to say that if it is probable that God would reveal his
will to others on a point so connected with my duty, it might be
supposed he would reveal it directly to me. . . . What good would
a proclamation of emancipation from me do, especially as we are
now situated? 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." "Do not misunderstand me. . . . I have
not decided against a proclamation of liberty to the slaves; but
hold the matter under advisement. And I can assure you that the
subject is on my mind by day and night more than any other.
Whatever shall appear to be God's will, I will do."

Four days after this interview the battle of Antietam was fought,
and when, after a few days of uncertainty it was found that it
could be reasonably claimed as a Union victory, the President
resolved to carry out his long-matured purpose. Secretary Chase
in his diary recorded very fully what occurred on that
ever-memorable September 22, 1862. After some playful talk upon
other matters, Mr. Lincoln, taking a graver tone, said:

"Gentlemen: I have, as you are aware, thought a great deal about
the relation of this war to slavery, and you all remember that
several weeks ago I read to you an order I had prepared on this
subject, which, on account of objections made by some of you, was
not issued. Ever since then my mind has been much occupied with
this subject, and I have thought, all along, that the time for
acting on it might probably come. I think the time has come now.
I wish it was a better time. I wish that we were in a better
condition. The action of the army against the rebels has not been
quite what I should have best liked. But they have been driven
out of Maryland, and Pennsylvania is no longer in danger of
invasion. When the rebel army was at Frederick I determined, as
soon as it should be driven out of Maryland, to issue a
proclamation of emancipation, such as I thought most likely to be
useful. I said nothing to anyone, but I made the promise to
myself, and--[hesitating a little]--to my Maker. The rebel army
is now driven out, and I am going to fulfil that promise. I have
got you together to hear what I have written down. I do not wish
your advice about the main matter, for that I have determined for
myself. This I say, without intending anything but respect for
any one of you. But I already know the views of each on this
question. . . . I have considered them as thoroughly and
carefully as I can. What I have written is that which my
reflections have determined me to say. If there is anything in
the expressions I use, or in any minor matter which any one of
you thinks had best be changed, I shall be glad to receive the
suggestions. One other observation I will make. I know very well
that many others might, in this matter as in others, do better
than I can; and if I was satisfied that the public confidence was
more fully possessed by any one of them than by me, and knew of
any constitutional way in which he could be put in my place, he
should have it. I would gladly yield it to him. But, though I
believe that I have not so much of the confidence of the people
as I had some time since, I do not know that, all things
considered, any other person has more; and however this may be,
there is no way in which I can have any other man put where I am.
I am here; I must do the best I can, and bear the responsibility
of taking the course which I feel I ought to take."

It was in this humble spirit, and with this firm sense of duty
that the great proclamation was given to the world. One hundred
days later he completed the act by issuing the final proclamation
of emancipation.

It has been a long-established custom in Washington for the
officials of the government to go on the first day of January to
the Executive Mansion to pay their respects to the President and
his wife. The judges of the courts go at one hour, the foreign
diplomats at another, members of Congress and senators and
officers of the Army and Navy at still another. One by one these
various official bodies pass in rapid succession before the head
of the nation, wishing him success and prosperity in the New
Year. The occasion is made gay with music and flowers and bright
uniforms, and has a social as well as an official character. Even
in war times such customs were kept up, and in spite of his load
of care, the President was expected to find time and heart for
the greetings and questions and hand-shakings of this and other
state ceremonies. Ordinarily it was not hard for him. He liked to
meet people, and such occasions were a positive relief from the
mental strain of his official work. It is to be questioned,
however, whether, on this day, his mind did not leave the passing
stream of people before him, to dwell on the proclamation he was
so soon to sign.

At about three o'clock in the afternoon, after full three hours
of such greetings and handshakings, when his own hand was so
weary it could scarcely hold a pen, the President and perhaps a
dozen friends, went up to the Executive Office, and there,
without any pre-arranged ceremony, he signed his name to the
greatest state paper of the century, which banished the curse of
slavery from our land, and set almost four million people free.