by Ginny Dye
“Lincoln has made himself pretty clear from the very beginning how he feels about slavery,” Matthew mused. “He believes it is morally wrong for man to hold his fellowman as property, but from the time he took office he has made it clear he had no intention of freeing the slaves. He believed the Constitution did not give him the legal right to interfere with slavery in the states where it existed.”
“The South didn’t believe he felt that way.”
“No. They were convinced he was out to destroy slavery. Yet I think the reasons for the war run much deeper than just slavery. I think slavery is the surface issue that ignited enough passion to spark the war, but there are other deep issues that contributed just as much.”
“I know states’ rights played a key role,” Aunt Abby observed. “That and the South felt they were being robbed of their way of life by the industrial North.”
“All of that played a role,” Matthew agreed.
Aunt Abby rose to stir the fire. “I suppose it’s never possible to truly understand why people act the way they do. Human beings are so complex. What might have been a compelling reason for one person could mean absolutely nothing to the next. And in the end, I don’t believe many people were thinking at all - at least not the ones making the decisions. They were simply being swept along by their passions and feelings.” Sparks flew from the fire as she turned back. “So why do you think Lincoln published the Emancipation Proclamation?”
Matthew chuckled. “Lincoln is a complicated man. I don’t think anyone has the ability to get inside his head - not that anyone can truly get inside anyone’s head. But I have thought about it long and hard. I think the reason was primarily military in nature. It was also politically astute.”
“Please explain.”
“Armies need a reason to fight,” he said simply. “Men need a reason to keep throwing themselves into battle. The war has steadily grown more deadly. Each battle is more violent than the rest. This war has become what it really was from the beginning. A revolution. Men fight revolutions because they are passionate. The South has much to be passionate about. They are fighting for their homeland, for their way of life.” He paused and took a long drink. “Up until now the North has mostly been fighting for a principle. They have been fighting to preserve the Union of our country. I believe Lincoln knows their dedication to a principle will soon fade. He decided to put a human face on it. In order to keep the army fighting, he had to turn it into a moral war.”
“Do you think it will work?” Aunt Abby asked anxiously.
“I don’t know,” Matthew said slowly. “The North is very divided on the issue of slavery. You see that here. I’m afraid there is very little moral mixture in the antislavery feeling in the North. Some of it is abstract philanthropy - part of it is hatred for slave owners.” He paused. “Just as much is jealousy for white labor.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid very little is a consciousness of wrong done - or the wish to correct it.”
“But surely that is changing.” Aunt Abby protested.
“Yes, it’s changing,” Matthew agreed instantly. “The work of the abolitionists has done much to change the way people see slavery. But in the end, people are passionate about the thing that affects them, that reaches into their world. To many of our citizens, slavery is something that happens to someone else.”
“But they are the ones having to fight because of it. The women are sending off their husbands, sons, and fathers to fight against slavery.”
“Which, I believe, is exactly why Lincoln issued the Proclamation. He is counting on the time being right.”
Aunt Abby frowned. “He has gotten much negative reaction.”
Matthew waved one hand in the air casually. “No matter what someone does - including the President - someone isn’t going to like it. It isn’t going to fit everyone’s own personal agenda. I would say Lincoln has gotten much more positive reaction, especially from Europe.”
“But I understood the statesmen there were outraged.”
“True,” Matthew laughed. “But the people love it, so the government has to listen. England has decided once and for all not to recognize the Confederacy. That alone will make it much more difficult for the South to succeed.”
Aunt Abby stood and walked over to stare out the window again. Darkness had fallen, but she could still see the leaves swirling in the light of the street lamp. Their swirling closely mirrored the stirring in her heart. She spun around. “I still can’t believe Lincoln told the black leaders they should take all their people out of our country. How can a man who claims to know God believe blacks are not our equal?” She shook her head, searching for the words to describe what was going on in her heart. “Can he really believe God would create a race that would never have the chance for equality? Create a whole group of people who would forever have to live feeling inferior and unworthy? Why the very idea is ludicrous!” she exclaimed angrily.
Matthew stood and walked to where she was staring out the window again. “I don’t think Lincoln believes that.”
“Then why would he do such a thing?” Aunt Abby cried.
“I think Lincoln is a man who understands human nature.” Matthew paused and reached into his pocket. “I knew we would be talking about this tonight. I brought something Lincoln wrote.” Unfolding the piece of paper he was holding, he began to read. “Let me say I think I have no prejudice against the Southern people. They are just what we would be in their situation. If slavery did not now exist among them, they would not introduce it. If it did now exist among us, we should not instantly give it up. This I believe of the masses, North and South. Doubtless there are individuals on both sides who would not hold slaves under any circumstances, and others who would gladly introduce slavery anew if it were out of existence.
We know that some slavery men do free their slaves, go North and become tiptop abolitionists, while some Northern ones go South and become most cruel slave-masters. When Southern people tell us they are no more responsible for the origin of slavery than we are, I acknowledge the fact. When it is said the institution exists, and that it is very difficult to get rid of in any satisfactory way, I can understand and appreciate the saying. I surely will not blame them for not doing what I should not know how to do myself.”
Aunt Abby stared thoughtfully out the window. “He’s right,” she finally agreed. “I have met many Northerners who are jealous of the Southern right to own slaves. But,” she said fiercely, “it doesn’t matter how people feel. The simple fact is that slavery is wrong! No one has the right to own another person. And like it or not, our country is going to have to learn to live with the black race in equality. God did not create an inferior race. He created a wonderful people whose skin is darker than our own.”
“It will take people like you, Aunt Abby, to make it happen,” Matthew said quietly. “It will take people with the ability to be color-blind, as well as the ability to see the heart, before they see anything else.” He paused. “I believe Lincoln knows our country is a long way from accepting blacks as equals. Maybe he believes we never will. Perhaps he is trying to save the black people from more pain and humiliation.”
Aunt Abby nodded slowly. From somewhere, hope was springing up within her heart. Moving away from the window, she walked back to the fire and stared into the flames, welcoming their warmth. Suddenly she understood. With a wide smile on her face, she turned to Matthew. “God will always accomplish his purpose,” she said firmly. “Lincoln may not have at first had the desire to free the slaves. His sole interest may have been in the preservation of the Union. But I believe God has been planning freedom for the slaves from the very minute they first stepped foot on American soil - just like he planned freedom for the Israelites from Egypt.” She chuckled, her heart light. “God has taken the circumstances and used them to turn Lincoln into the “Great Deliverer” of the slaves.” She laughed aloud now. “God will always accomplish his purpose one way or the other.”
“Surely you don’t think th
is war is God’s will,” Matthew said in astonishment.
Aunt Abby fixed him with a steely glare. “That is ridiculous and you know it! I believe God weeps for every soldier who is killed in this horrible war. But men weren’t listening to God when they started this war, and I don’t see many people listening to him now,” she said firmly. “None of that changes the fact God can take any circumstances - however horrible - and perform his will.” She walked over and put her hand on Matthew’s arm. “I hate this war as much as anyone. It simply gives me hope to see God at work in the midst of it.”
Matthew covered her hand with his. “I’m sorry. I know you hate this war, and I know you would never think it is God’s will. No matter how hard I try to make sense of all of it, I just can’t.”
“Thank God,” Aunt Abby said fervently. “If you could, I would really be concerned about you. War never makes sense.”
Matthew opened his mouth to speak then closed it.
“What is it?” Aunt Abby prodded.
“I’m not sure that war never makes sense,” Matthew said slowly. “If a foreign country were to come to America and attempt to conquer us, I think I would fight.” His eyes clouded as he thought. “I think there may be times when war may not be the best answer, but sometimes it is not just an answer - it is a response to actions others have taken. There will always be bullies who want to enforce their will on others. Many times the only thing they understand is force.”
Aunt Abby allowed his words to sink into her heart. She wasn’t sure she agreed, but she certainly understood what he was saying. She would have to think about it for a while. “Can we at least agree this war doesn’t make any sense?”
“Absolutely,” Matthew said with a smile. “Now - all this talk has made me even hungrier than when I arrived. I believe you promised to reheat my meal. I’m going to hold you to it.”
Aunt Abby laughed and headed toward the kitchen. “I’m a lady of honor,” she said with a slight curtsy. “Dinner will be served in a few minutes. I discover I am famished as well.”
Aunt Abby watched Matthew as he ate. “Why aren’t you married?” she asked suddenly then flushed. “I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “I don’t know why I asked you that. It’s absolutely none of my business.” Aunt Abby was horrified with herself. Was she turning into one of those meddling old women?
Matthew finished chewing his last bite. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked before now. Most people consider me an oddity.”
“You are certainly not an oddity, Matthew. You are a wonderful young man.” Aunt Abby chose her words carefully. “I worry about you. It must be lonely coming home to that empty boardinghouse room.”
“It is,” Matthew agreed quietly. “But I’ve watched my mother and father for years. My father once told me there was no other woman for him once he had laid eyes on my mother. They still love each other fiercely. I want that kind of love.” A great sadness crossed his face.
“It will come someday,” Aunt Abby said gently, reaching out to cover his hand.
Matthew shook his head and sighed. “I’m afraid it already has.” He looked at Aunt Abby with an apologetic smile.
Aunt Abby was confused. “I don’t understand.”
Matthew sighed again. “I suppose I knew you would ask me eventually. I was looking forward to it, in a way.”
Aunt Abby watched him closely. She had seen that look on her husband’s face many times. It had always been whenever he was carrying a burden he was tired of carrying alone. She waited quietly. Matthew would tell her when he was ready.
“I’ve met the woman I want to marry. I haven’t been able to see anyone except her from the first day I met her.”
“She won’t have you?” Aunt Abby asked sympathetically.
“She has no idea how I feel. I can’t tell her.”
Understanding began to dawn in Aunt Abby’s heart. “Oh, Matthew...”
Matthew nodded. “Carrie has eyes for no one but Robert,” he said hopelessly. “I loved her the minute I laid eyes on her, the night you brought her to the dance here in the city. I saw her from across the room. The only thing important to me right then was to meet the beautiful girl exuberant with life.”
“And then you found out who she was.”
“I would never betray Robert. Not that she would ever see me that way,” he added hastily.
Aunt Abby’s heart went out to the young man. She could not bear the pain in his eyes. She struggled for the right thing to say.
“I’m rather relieved you know,” Matthew went on. “Just telling someone helps. And I’m sure you understand because you know how special Carrie is.” He paused. “Promise me you’ll never tell her how I feel.”
“Of course,” Aunt Abby said softly. “I promise.”
Rose stopped to watch the men driving the wagons full of firewood. The mid-October day was still mild, but a few crisp nights had delivered the message that winter was on its way. All the signs indicated it was going to be a severe one. She was sure it would not be as cruel as the winter she had experienced the year before in Philadelphia, but then she wasn’t exactly living in a warm, well-insulated home.
“Annie won’t be at school the next few days,” Amos called as he drove the wagon by her. “She has a right high fever.”
“I’ll check on her today,” Rose called back, watching as he waved and drove on. It had taken Amos almost two months to recover from the beating the Union soldiers had given him. With the exception of a slight limp, he was back to normal. At least his body was. There was a shadow in his eyes that never seemed to go away. Rose had been out to their house many times since the incidence. Harriet rarely left the house anymore – fear kept her hostage. Every now and again, Rose could coax her outside if it was a particularly beautiful day, but she was never willing to go far from the porch. The children did all the gardening and outdoor chores.
Rose had talked with Amos about it. He had merely shrugged and said, “I don’t know if she’ll ever be the same. Those soldiers roughed her up pretty bad.” He wouldn’t say anything else. Rose had learned not to ask. It just made the shadows deeper.
Annie was different. She had shown up for school just a week after the attack. Fear had been stamped on her face when she appeared at the door, but there had been a light of determination in her eyes. School had been her salvation. After a few weeks, the spontaneous crying had stopped, and the shine came back in her eyes. There were still times she, trembling, clung to Rose, but they were fewer and further between.
“Supper is ready,” June called from the porch.
Rose looked up, startled. She had been so deep in thought she wasn’t even aware she was almost home. Home was now a small, weather-beaten frame house on the edge of the Great Contraband Camp. She and June had moved in less than a month earlier. From her front porch, she could see Slabtown. She could also see the burned remains of Hampton. It had been difficult to return to primitive conditions, but she didn’t regret her move. She and June had grown very close, and Rose loved being more accessible to the people. They had worked hard to make their little home comfortable and welcoming. As promised, the superintendent had a new house built for Rose, but she and June had elected to give it to a newly arrived family of eight. The two women were quite happy where they were.
“One of your students brung a pie by today,” June said, smiling. “I declare...”
“Brought,” Rose corrected. “One of my students brought a pie by today.”
“Brought a pie,” June repeated. “I declare, I don’t think I’ll ever learn how to talk like you.”
“You’re doing very well,” Rose insisted, draping her light shawl on the hook by the door. She sniffed the air appreciatively. “Umm... Sweet potatoes. My favorite!”
“I sure do like living with a teacher,” June laughed. “I hardly have to cook at all. Somebody is always bringing something.” Just then little Simon squawked to get her attention. Turning quickly, she scooped him up in her arms. Little arms waved in
the air as his cries turned to laughs of delight. “Here. Let your Aunt Rose take care of you for a minute. I got to get dinner on the table.”
Rose reached for him eagerly. She never grew tired of playing with her tiny nephew. “Hello, sir. Were you good for your mama today?” She laughed as he kicked his feet and cooed, his eyes wide with delight. Suddenly her heart caught. What she would give to have a baby. Would things ever settle down so she could? Her mind drifted to Moses as it did dozens of time every day. Their one night together had been so wonderful, but in many ways it had increased her loneliness. Sometimes the ache of her missing him was a sharp physical pain.
“You got a class tonight?” June asked sharply. “You’re looking real tired.”
Rose looked up from Simon. “It seems to be a constant condition,” she said with a slight smile. “No, I don’t have a class tonight. Marianne gave me the night off.” It was the first in ten days. Students, hungry for knowledge, crowded the school both day and night.
“Good!” June declared.
“I’m going out to Annie’s house tonight. She’s sick.” June snapped her lips shut and turned back toward the stove. Rose turned back to Simon. She knew she was tired, but so was every other teacher. They taught classes all day and night. When they weren’t teaching, they were trying to meet the other needs of their students. Most of her spare time was spent taking care of the sick, handing our clothing and shoes, or finding food for new arrivals. “You know I love my work,” she said, more to herself than to June.
June spun around from where she was standing by the stove. “I know you do. If you didn’t, so many folks wouldn’t be loving you. But that don’t mean it makes sense for you to drive yourself into the ground. You ain’t a slave no more, Rose.”
Rose almost laughed at the sparks flying from June’s eyes then she sobered. “I’m definitely not a slave,” she said thoughtfully. “I would never work this hard for someone else. No, I’m working hard because this is what I’m supposed to be doing.”
