"What Shall We Do with the Negro?"

Lincoln, White Racism, and Civil War America

Paul D. Escott

• Publisher: University of Virginia Press
• Year: 2009
• Print ISBN: 9780813927862
• eBook ISBN: 9780813930466
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: North American History
• Index: History

Throughout the Civil War, newspaper headlines and stories repeatedly asked some variation of the question posed by the New York Times in 1862, "What shall we do with the negro?" The future status of African Americans was a pressing issue for those in both the North and in the South. Consulting a broad range of contemporary newspapers, magazines, books, army records, government documents, publications of citizens' organizations, letters, diaries, and other sources, Paul D. Escott examines the attitudes and actions of Northerners and Southerners regarding the future of African Americans after the end of slavery. "What Shall We Do with the Negro?" demonstrates how historians together with our larger national popular culture have wrenched the history of this period from its context in order to portray key figures as heroes or exemplars of national virtue.

Escott gives especial critical attention to Abraham Lincoln. Since the civil rights movement, many popular books have treated Lincoln as an icon, a mythical leader with thoroughly modern views on all aspects of race. But, focusing on Lincoln's policies rather than attempting to divine Lincoln's intentions from his often ambiguous or cryptic statements, Escott reveals a president who placed a higher priority on reunion than on emancipation, who showed an enduring respect for states' rights, who assumed that the social status of African Americans would change very slowly in freedom, and who offered major incentives to white Southerners at the expense of the interests of blacks.Escott's approach reveals the depth of slavery's influence on society and the pervasiveness of assumptions of white supremacy. "What Shall We Do with the Negro?" serves as a corrective in offering a more realistic, more nuanced, and less celebratory approach to understanding this crucial period in American history.

PART ONE

Northern Developments

ONE

THE NORTH CONFRONTS THE QUESTION

War is the preeminent agent of change, a potent force that alters institutions, beliefs, and social customs to create a new and unanticipated reality. The Civil War shook the bedrock of American institutions and beliefs, forcing both North and South to entertain ideas that had been unthinkable. Under the coercive force of events, leaders and ordinary citizens would resist the new and hang on to old ways of thinking, slowing but not stopping the current of change.

In the North the universal conviction that slavery in the states was not to be disturbed came under question with surprising swiftness. Only two weeks after Congress adopted the Crittenden-Johnson Resolutions, it passed a law confiscating slave property used in direct support of the rebellion. In less than six months many people throughout the North were asking whether slavery should be ended through the war. By early 1862, newspapers, periodicals, and policymakers were discussing the future location and status of black Americans if they became free. A more general discussion also developed about the different races of humankind, the nature and capabilities of African Americans, and how other nations experienced emancipation. Slowly, gingerly, and with ample attention to political interests, Abraham Lincoln entered the Northern dialogue, advocating the most conservative possible plan for abolition and urging colonization of African Americans outside the United States. Though offensive to Democrats, his initiatives lagged far behind the evolving views of many Northerners. By January 1, 1863, when the Emancipation Proclamation became final, the president and his allies had established these positions: that freedom was not an object but a means of victory; that colonization was a major goal; and that no ideas of racial equality were being entertained.

MANY NORTHERNERS had suspected that secession was a ploy designed to extract concessions from the North, and many more, including Abraham Lincoln, believed that Unionism remained strong in the South. But once the actual fighting began, a more sober and steely attitude began to develop. Less than three weeks after the surrender of Fort Sumter, an issue of Harper’s Weekly announced that “the war has now begun in earnest.” Moreover, this popular national journal, with 200,000 subscribers and an estimated one million readers, was in earnest about the means to prosecute the war. “The practical effect of a war in the Southern States,” it warned, “must be to liberate the slaves. This should be well understood.” The editors foresaw that many slaves would run away from their masters to enter Union lines. Although Union commanders initially were returning these fugitives to their owners, the editors promptly declared that it was not the duty of U.S. soldiers to catch and return runaways.¹

In reaching this conclusion Harper’s Weekly had anticipated the action of General Benjamin Butler by only a few weeks. On May 23, Butler, who had been a conservative Democrat and a supporter of the South’s John C. Breckinridge, refused to return three fugitive slaves who had entered his lines. These slaves had been working on Confederate fortifications, and Butler declared that they were “contraband of war.” He declined to deliver them back to the enemy, where they would be used against U.S. forces. News of Butler’s action spread rapidly, providing an example for some other U.S. commanders and attracting approximately a thousand slaves to Butler’s army within several weeks.²

Soon Harper’s Weekly observed that Congress would have to face the question of what to do with runaway slaves, and the tone of its article clearly suggested that loyal citizens should not be taxed to defray the costs of identifying and returning slaves to rebellious owners. In July the Atlantic Monthly argued that the North should stop “conscientiously strain[ing] at gnats of Constitutional clauses” while Southerners did not hesitate to “gulp down whole camels of treason.” Slavery was “the root of the rebellion,” declared the magazine, and “war is proving itself an Abolitionist, whoever else is. Practically speaking, the verdict is already entered” against slavery. Looking ahead, the Atlantic Monthly foresaw “the adoption of the John-Quincy-Adams policy of military emancipation” as “an ultimate necessity.” Black newspapers also argued for abolition, with the Anglo-African, of New York City, declaring that “liberty, universal and complete” was the only path to restoring the Union. “Permanent peace cannot be restored,” warned other blacks in a petition written by Dr. J. W. C. Pennington, until slavery was ended.³

Then, on July 21, 1861, at Bull Run in northern Virginia, the Confederate army inflicted a shocking defeat on Union forces. All Northerners, not just the terrified picnickers who had been compelled to flee back toward Washington, D.C., now had added reason to take the war seriously. Only two weeks earlier, Congress had officially resolved that the war was not being fought for any purpose of “overthrowing or interfering with the rights or established institutions” of the rebellious states. But in early August it passed its first Confiscation Act, which provided that the owner of any slave used in direct support of the Southern military forfeited “his claim to such labor, any law of the State or of the United States to the contrary notwithstanding.” “During those two weeks,” according to James M. McPherson, “the meaning of Union defeat at Bull Run had sunk in.” At the end of August, a New York Times correspondent observed that “Public sentiment is undergoing a change.”⁴

The same change of sentiment occurred rapidly in the army. “Soldier after soldier,” concludes Chandra Manning, “began to insist that since slavery had caused the war, only the destruction of slavery could end the war.” A Wisconsin soldier explained that “the rebellion is abolitionizing the whole army” and told readers of a newspaper back home, “You have no idea of the changes that have taken place in the minds of the soldiers.” By the fall of 1861 enlisted men throughout the rank and file “championed the destruction” of slavery, “well before most civilians, political leaders, or officers did.”⁵ The seriousness of the rebellion was persuading many Northerners that “the abolition of slavery,” not just a return to “the Union as it was, and the Constitution as it is,” was needed.⁶ This fact raised the question—which was a troubling conundrum for most whites—“What shall be done with the slaves?”

In the field in Missouri, one general had a ready answer. John C. Frémont, the Republican Party’s candidate for president in 1856, declared martial law on August 30, and proclaimed that the property of anyone in arms against the United States was confiscated, “and their slaves, if any they have, are hereby declared free.”⁷ Public reaction outside the border states was largely favorable. The New York Evening Post said, “Mr. Frémont has done what the Government ought to have done from the beginning. War is war.” The New York Tribune observed that if the slaveholders could be brought to reason, Frémont was “the man to do it.” The Albany Journal wrote, “Gen. Frémont ‘hits the nail on the head’ exactly.” The Albany Statesman said that Frémont’s measures should have been applied to the whole South six months earlier. “It strikes the right note,” judged the Rochester Democrat. The Cincinnati Gazette was pleased that “rebellion is to be treated as a crime.” In the analysis of the Cincinnati Commercial, the rebels had brought this on themselves: “The secessionists themselves are the real abolitionists.” The Boston Post agreed, arguing that rebel “defiance” was striking this blow at the slaveholders’ beloved institution.⁸

The reaction of the New York Times was interesting and telling. The editor and proprietor of the Times, Henry Raymond, had played an active role in founding the Republican Party and would become chairman of the party’s national committee in 1864. He reflected Republican thinking but also remained alert to defend the Lincoln administration when countering the main currents of criticism in predominantly Democratic New York State. Initially, Raymond’s Times depicted Frémont’s action as fully in tune with Congress’s Confiscation Act and hailed the proclamation as “by far the most important event of the war.” Although the United States had tried to be respectful of slaveholders’ rights, the nation needed to “take from treason every weapon by which it can strike the deadly blow.” If the rebellion continued, “slavery must inevitably perish,” and the Times was glad that “hereafter, Slavery will not be allowed to stand in the way of a vigorous prosecution of the war.” The paper also argued that because the war would, in fact, dissolve slavery, slave owners would recognize in Frémont’s action a powerful “incentive to peace.” But soon Raymond learned that Lincoln, anxious to avoid offending border state sentiment, was going to overrule Frémont. Then the paper abruptly changed its tune; it decided that Frémont had gone beyond the letter of the law and argued that Lincoln had to set the general’s proclamation aside.⁹

The Times’s tactical retreat could not disguise the fact that an antislavery logic was moving public opinion. This logic flowed naturally from two widely accepted propositions. Northerners well understood, as Lincoln would observe in his Second Inaugural Address, that slavery was at the root of the conflict. Even more compelling was the fact that slaves and slavery were being used as assets to the rebellion. To strike at slavery was to wound the rebels’ cause. Therefore it made sense to take action against slavery, if not for the slaves’ or for humanity’s benefit, then for the greater success of Union armies. The Times continued to acknowledge this fact even while offering support to a president who was proceeding at a different pace and with different priorities. Reacting to a speech in New York City by Charles Sumner in which the Massachusetts senator had emphasized that slavery must be ended to defeat the rebellion, the Times declared, “We have no shadow of doubt that Slavery will receive its death-blow in the progress of this rebellion.” But the paper then argued that the practical realities of governing were complex, not simple, and that it was best to leave this outcome to the voluntary action of the border states.¹⁰

In taking this position, Henry Raymond’s paper bowed to the analysis and differing priorities of the president. Abraham Lincoln believed not only that the Union had to retain the border states if it hoped to win, but also that the future cooperation of Southern whites would be essential for a successful reconstruction of the Union. To avoid offending whites, his administration had refused the help of black volunteers in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and other cities. While hoping for an “ultimate extinction” of slavery at some time in the indefinite future, he had repeatedly pledged himself to respect the rights of his slave-owning countrymen, who, far from being evil, were “just what we would be in their situation.” Long after his inaugural address, Lincoln continued to hope that “the mystic chords of memory” would draw white Americans together and restore good feelings between Northerners and the seceded Southerners, who were “not enemies, but friends” sharing “bonds of affection.”¹¹

These sentiments of identity with Southern whites and respect and fraternity toward them were sincere. They also had a personal dimension. Lincoln himself had been born in Kentucky; more importantly, slaveholding Southern whites were part of his family through his marriage to Mary Todd. The war tore the Todd family in two, with six children supporting the Union and eight the Confederacy. As Mary’s husband, Lincoln offered positions to brothers-in-law who instead chose to side with the Confederacy. During the war Lincoln wrote passes for rebel Todds and welcomed into the White House Mary’s grieving sister Emilie, widow of a Confederate general. The plight of Southern whites was not abstract to Lincoln, and his feelings of sympathy for them would persist to guide his actions throughout his presidency.¹² In the fall of 1861 they shaped his approach to slavery as forcefully as did his concern for the border states.

Before the year was out, Lincoln’s first secretary of war had advanced the logic that the Union must attack slavery because the institution was a key asset to the rebels. In a well-publicized initiative, Simon Cameron (in what would be one of his last significant acts before he was replaced by Edwin Stanton) proposed that the federal government arm the slaves and use them to fight against the rebellion. Promptly Lincoln forced Cameron to withdraw his proposal. The president was far from ready to support either freeing the slaves or arming them.

A growing number of Lincoln’s supporters reacted in dismay. The staunchly Republican Chicago Tribune declared that this latest of Lincoln’s conservative decisions demonstrated that the president was not a bold leader but an “old fogy.” The “four millions of black Unionists” were “ready to help us,” declared the Tribune. They should be used to save the Union, even as James Madison in 1780 had suggested using slaves to win the American Revolution. In harsh language the Tribune declared that “Old Abe is now unmasked, and we are sold out.”¹³ If not betrayed, the paper was right to judge presidential policies as cautious.

Lincoln favored a conservative approach to the subject of emancipation. His views were grounded in acceptance of the power and scope of American racism and in the principles of voluntary state action and national responsibility. Acting on these principles, the president late in November drew up two bills laying out alternate paths to voluntary and compensated emancipation in Delaware, where slaves constituted less than 2 percent of the population. Both plans promised monetary compensation from the federal treasury. In the first, state legislators would decide to free one-fifth of Delaware’s slaves each year until slavery ended in 1867; all minor children born to slave mothers would have to serve an apprenticeship, until age 21 for males and age 18 for females. The second plan—which Lincoln considered “better”— provided for a much slower process. Legal slavery would continue for thirty-one years, until 1893. After the date of passage of the act, however, those who reached age 35 would gain their freedom. So, too, would all those newly born to slave mothers, but these children would be required to serve an apprenticeship until age 21 for males and 18 for females, as in the first scheme.¹⁴ Thus, as a practical matter, in the second plan most of Delaware’s slaves would have to wait until age 35 to gain their freedom, and most black children born after passage of the bill would serve apprenticeships. The few unlucky individuals whose slave mothers gave birth to them near the end of the thirty-one-year period would still be bound as apprentices well into the twentieth century. Lincoln had his plan printed and distributed to members of the Delaware legislature. Within its general terms he was open to modifications of the effective date, but whatever date might be chosen, his plan envisioned a gradual emancipation, one in which slave owners would continue for many years to benefit from the labor of at least some of their slaves. Delaware’s lawmakers did not act on his proposal.

A few days later, on December 3, in his first annual address to Congress, Lincoln put forward the other major element of his thinking about emancipation: colonization. He noted that Congress’s Confiscation Act had liberated some individuals, who were now “dependent on the United States,” and he speculated that some states “for their own benefit” might pass similar laws. Therefore, Congress should find some means to give the states financial credit for these persons, and “in any event” steps should be taken “for colonizing [them] at some place, or plac...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction
• Prologue: First Declarations
• Part One: Northern Developments
• Part Two: Southern Developments
• Part Three: Confluence
• Appendix: A Brief, Additional Note on a Vast Historiography
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Index