When I wrote PRESIDENT HAMILTON, one thing that made the task relatively easy was that the real Hamilton's style of writing and speaking is unknown to most Americans - except for a select few who have devoted their lives to Hamilton scholarship. So when I had Hamilton speak and write, I did take the time to read some of his extant letters and speeches in order to get a "feel" for his style, but I had a great deal of artistic license in the process. Most Americans were more familiar with Lin-Manuel Miranda's version of Hamilton than they were with the real thing, and that meant I could put my words in my alternative history Alexander Hamilton's mouth with relative impunity.
But in my current alternative history project, WITH MALICE TOWARDS NONE, I have a much tougher road to travel if I want to present Abraham Lincoln to my readers with anything resembling authenticity. Lincoln's speaking and writing style are known to a far greater share of the American public than Hamilton's. Some of his speeches are still memorized by secondary students, and his words have been immortalized on the big screen, on public monuments, and in countless books that are still avidly consumed by historians and casual readers alike. Not only that . . . he's Abraham Lincoln!! I mean, Hamilton was an eloquent man, but Lincoln, despite his lack of formal education, could have been America's premiere poet and essayist had he not found his calling in politics. So when I have Lincoln survive the cowardly attack at Ford's Theater, as he does in my book, and then speak on public occasions as he celebrates the victory of the Union and presents his plans for Reconstruction, I am having to craft words that are worthy of America's greatest President and public speaker. It is either the most audacious, or the most presumptuous, thing I have ever tried to do as a writer. I will leave it to you, my faithful readers, to decide which. Here is a snippet from Chapter Ten of WITH MALICE TOWARDS NONE, in which Lincoln addresses a special session of Congress to mark the end of the Civil War and to introduce his version of the Fourteenth Amendment, which differs considerably from ours. Read on, and please drop a comment to tell me how you think I did!
The smacking of Speaker Colfax’s gavel brought the
buzz of the audience to a standstill. All eyes turned to the Speaker of the
House as he stood and solemnly spoke.
“Senators and Honorable Representatives,” he
said. “Members of the Court, officers of
the military, and honored guests – I present to you the President of the United
States!”
The door at the rear of the House chamber opened, and
the lanky, gaunt form of Abraham Lincoln came striding in at a slow, deliberate
pace. The Republican senators and congressmen rose, applauding their great
chief, and the Democrats, although many still wore sour expressions, also rose
after a moment. Even the most radical
Southern sympathizers among them were glad Lincoln was still alive, if only so
that their faction would not be blamed for his death. For most of these men, it was the first time
they had seen Lincoln since the deadly affair at Ford’s Theater, and many
craned to catch a glimpse of his mangled right ear - mostly healed now, but
nearly half gone.
Lincoln walked down the aisle, shaking hands with
those he could reach and trying to make eye contact with those he could
not. Even though his speech to Congress
was unprecedented, all were glad he had been spared from Booth’s bullet, and
the relief at seeing their President, tall and unbowed, smiling in his moment
of victory, warmed every heart to some degree.
The President wore the new black suitcoat that had been made for his
second inauguration, but his tie was a bright blue, as was his pocket
handkerchief, and his felt collar was a rich black satin – a stark contrast to
his usual rumpled black suits and often-stained white shirt. He made his way to
the well of the House and took the podium, and the assembly fell silent. The President looked at the assembled legislators
of the United States, and then up at the packed galleries and all the eyes that
were upon him. Mary Todd sat near the center,
with Tad on one side and Mrs. Keckley on the other. Near the back sat Frederick Douglass, flanked
by Reverend Keely, Deacon Sutherland, and William Slade – who had left his
duties at the White House just to hear the President speak. Lincoln reached
into his coat pocket, pulled out the speech he had been crafting for some time,
unfolded it on the podium, and began to speak.
“My friends and fellow countrymen,” he said. “First of all, I would like to thank the
members of this honorable House for allowing me to address you today. I realize
that in coming to the Congress, to speak to you in person, I am breaking a
sixty-year tradition. In ordinary
times, I would never have sought such an opportunity. But these are not ordinary times. Our nation has survived a fiery trial which
no other Republic has ever endured and remained a Republic, and this is an
occasion which merits an exceptional response.
Our great Civil War is over, and by the graciousness of God, the valor
of our soldiers, and the indomitable will of our people, the Union has
prevailed!”
Senators, representatives, and guests surged to their
feet, and a storm of applause swelled around the President. Lincoln smiled, and for a moment, he was
tempted to let this adulation go to his head - but his common sense and
humility, graven deep as they were in his character, anchored him. They were cheering the great victory of the
Union, not just him. He was a servant of
the people, a leader perhaps, but he was not and had no desire to be their
master. Such sentiments were for the
Bonapartes of the world, not for sons of impoverished Kentucky farmers.
“Fourscore and nine years have passed since our
Founders brought forth this new nation of ours, laying its foundations upon the
principles of liberty and equality. We
have now passed through the greatest test of our Republic – and we have
answered the question whether any government founded upon such principles can
long endure. Posterity will long debate every
detail of this great contest that has engrossed the attentions and resources of
our nation for the last four years, and every decision made, and every battle
fought, will be examined in detail. But the
one thing upon which both sides in this unfortunate conflict will agree upon,
if they remain true to the opinions they uttered during the years leading up to
the secession crisis of 1860, is that the heart of the disagreement between
north and south centered upon the issue of slavery. As I wrote to a Southern friend after the
election that year: ‘You think slavery is right and ought to be extended, I
think it is wrong and ought to be restricted.
That, so far as I can tell, is the sum total of our differences.’ That statement was true in 1860, and it
remains true today.”
The Republicans applauded this statement, while most
of the Democrat members remained silent, some glowering at the President,
others looking thoughtful.
“It was never my intention to interfere with slavery
in the states where it already existed, even though I believed it to be a great
moral evil,” Lincoln said. “The Constitution which I was bound by solemn oath
to support did not give me the power to do so, and as long as I was sure that
any further expansion of slavery into the national territories was checked, I
was willing to abide in the belief that domestic bondage was in the course of
ultimate extinction. But the insurgents
in the South were unwilling to accept the leadership of any President who was
morally opposed to their peculiar institution, and rather than place their
faith in the Constitution they had lived under for over seventy years, and the laws
which their own representatives had crafted, they attempted to tear our country
asunder.”
Lincoln paused for a moment, and once more the
Republican members of the audience applauded him, and this time a few Democrats
– those who had supported the Union during the war – joined them.
“For two hundred and fifty years now, the sons of
Africa, brought to this continent against their will, have suffered under the
horrors of lash and chain,” Lincoln continued.
“Neither north nor south was blameless in the horrors of the slave
trade, for many Yankee shippers built their fortunes bearing mothers away from
their children, fathers away from their sons, husbands from wives, children
from parents. I have always believed in
the divine providence of God, and also that if slavery was not evil, then
nothing was evil. In this great war
which tore our nation apart and robbed countless mothers of their sons,
countless wives of their husbands, countless children of their fathers, I could
not but see the grim justice of the Almighty demanding atonement for America’s
original sin. This terrible conflict was
the woe due to those by whom the offense came!”
“So when the war afforded me the opportunity, as a
military measure against the insurgents of the South, to exterminate slavery in
those states that sought to shatter our Union, I seized it. Then, to make sure that the work of the
Emancipation Proclamation could not be undone after the war by some skeptical
judge or wily lawyers, I urged Congress to pass the Thirteenth Amendment,
abolishing slavery forever, and even now that great measure speeds towards
ratification. Whatever else our civil conflict may have achieved, the days of
forced bondage in America are over forever, and slavery has been cast into a
grave from which there will be no resurrection!
Never again will Americans slaughter Americans to preserve such
wickedness!”
This time the entire Congress rose to its feet to
applaud, and many in the galleries did as well.
However they might have felt about emancipation, all could agree that
the horrors of civil war must never be repeated.
“Now the war is over, and the Union has prevailed,”
Lincoln said. “Thanks to the skill and
courage of Generals Grant and Sherman, Thomas and Sheridan, and so many others
time does not allow me to name them all, our cause has been victorious. The war is over, and slavery is ended. The Union is saved, and the twin principles
of democracy – the right of the majority to rule, and the necessity of the
minority accepting the will of the people – have been upheld. But there are many issues that have not been
settled by the outcome of the war, and it is to address those issues that I
have summoned you here today.”
There was little applause at this point, but the
audience collectively leaned in a bit closer.
This was the meat of the speech, the reason they had been summoned to
Washington, and every member of Congress wanted to hear what the President said
next.
“The issues that I see before us are complex ones, and
my goal is to deal with them in the most reasonable and humane manner possible
– it is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this,” Lincoln
continued. “The first issue that we must
resolve is the status of the freedmen.
Having ended slavery, we now must decide what to do with these four
million people that we have delivered from bondage. It is my firm belief that if their status is
not protected by Federal law, there will be those who will try to return them
to some form of bondage, some perpetuation of slavery under another name. Freedom is meaningless if it can be arbitrarily
taken away by another, so some way to preserve the freedmen’s inalienable
rights must be found.”
Lincoln stepped away from the podium and began to
slowly pace across the front of the House chamber, fixing different members of
the assembly with his gaze for a second at a time before focusing on another.
“The second issue is what to do with the insurgents
themselves,” he said. “Not to the common soldier who went to war because some
wily politician convinced him that his rights were threatened by my
election. But the fire-eating radicals
who exacerbated the crisis at every turn, who pushed their states towards
secession, and who then occupied the highest positions in the government and
military of their so-called Confederacy.
What are we to do with them?”
“Hang the traitors!” shouted Charles Sumner, Senator
from Massachusetts. Ever since he had
been bludgeoned with a cane by North Carolina Representative Preston Brooks,
his hatred of the “slaveocracy,” as he called the planters of the South, had
become irrepressible.
“No,” Lincoln said, shaking his head sorrowfully. “I understand the sentiment, gentlemen, but I
think we have proved all that can be proven by bloodshed. With the exception of those who committed
atrocities in violation of the laws of arms – especially those who killed our
soldiers after they had laid down their arms and were trying to surrender – I
do not wish to allow any more executions.
What would we accomplish, really, except to turn those malcontents into the
martyrs of a lost cause? No, there will
be no mass hangings. But that does not mean there should be no consequences for
these men who provoked the most terrible war our nation has ever seen. I will explain what those consequences shall
be momentarily, if I may beg the chamber’s patience.”
“The last issue we must decide is how soon, and under
what conditions, we allow the Southern states to resume their place in this
chamber, and to elect their own governors and state legislators. Our whole point in fighting this dreadful war
was to show that we are one nation; that a single state cannot simply leave the
Union because of disagreement with the passage of a law, or the result of an
election. But if we are one nation, then
the Constitution still applies. And if
the Constitution still applies, then the South is entitled to representation in
Congress, and to elect its local leaders. Not only that, but since the
so-called three-fifths compromise of the Constitution will be rendered null and
void by the Thirteenth Amendment, they will return with greater representation
in the lower House of Congress than they had when they left.”
There were audible gasps in the chamber – it was
obvious that many lawmakers and most of the guests had not yet figured this out,
and the realization was disturbing them.
“Therefore, we need to decide now, before next year’s
Congressional election, what conditions will be placed upon the Southern
states’ re-entry into the national government,” Lincoln said calmly. “Ever since it became apparent, near the end of
last summer, that our arms must ultimately triumph, I have given great thought
to this. I know that many wish for a
draconian peace, and a long-term occupation of the South by our soldiers,
combined with an attempt to completely reshape Southern society in the
process. It is human nature to reach for
what we perceive as perfection, but I fear such a policy would only create
festering resentment in the South, and the resistance it would stir up would be
implacable, eventually wearing down those who advocated the harsher version of
Reconstruction to begin with.”
There were nods from the Democrat side, and some of
the Radical Republicans were frowning – but most realized the simple truth of
the President’s words.
“I have said from the beginning that my fondest desire
would be to see the former relationship between North and South restored as
soon as possible,” Lincoln said. “I
still wish to see this. However, for it
to happen, Southerners are going to have to agree to some reforms. There are two fixed points upon which I will
not budge: First, the Southern states must each ratify the Thirteenth Amendment
before they can resume their former place in the government of our nation. Slavery in America is done, and the Southern
states must acknowledge this, once and for all.
Secondly, they must also agree to acknowledge, protect, and respect the
civil rights, not only of those men who have been freed from slavery, but of
all men who live within their jurisdiction.
Once there is agreement to those two conditions, the Southern states can
apply for full restoration to the Union, and the life of our great nation may
move on into the sunlit uplands of freedom.”
At this, the entire house rose to its feet –
Republicans glad to finally see the President outline his plan, and Democrats
in relief that the conditions of Reconstruction were not more draconian. The applause washed over Lincoln like ocean
waves over a great boulder; he remained unmoved in its wake.
“How do we accomplish these noble ends?” he asked when
the chamber fell silent again. “The
truth is that any legislation passed by Congress can be undone by a later
Congress - or challenged in federal court and perhaps declared
unconstitutional. There is only one way
to permanently change the fundamental laws of our nation, and that is to amend
the Constitution. For several weeks,
Attorney General Speed and I have been working with my cabinet, members of the
two Houses of our Congress, and a select group of legal advisors to draft a
proposed Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution. It is longer than most previous amendments,
but we tried to compose it in such a way as to address all the issues that I just
mentioned. Tomorrow it will be
introduced by its sponsors in each House of Congress, and I would ask the
leaders of each House to bring it up for a vote before this thirty-day special
session adjourns. I will now read the
amendment to you, and explain some of its provisions, before I conclude my
remarks.”
