“Victory, just victory. The enemy subdued and overcome by force of arms, crushed and defeated. The islands of what were once called the British West Indies are now in our hands.”
“What shall we call them then?” Edwin Stanton, the Secretary of War said. “The American East Indies?”
“Capital idea,” William Seward said. “As Secretary of State I so name them.”
There was a rumble of laughter. Even the stern Welles chanced a tiny smile as he ticked off points on his fingers.
“Firstly, the British are deprived of the only bases they have close to our shores. They have no port for their ships to be stationed in — whatever ships they have left — nor coal available for their ships’ boilers should they hazard more attacks from across the ocean. The murderous raids on our coastal cities must now cease.”
“But they can still raid from Canada.” Attorney General Bates was always one to find the worst in anything.
“If you substitute did for still you would be closer to the truth,” Edwin Stanton said. “The successful rebellion by the French nationalists has deprived them of their base in Montreal. The enemy flees before the advance of General Sherman’s victorious troops. Even as we speak he is drawing the noose around Quebec. When that noose snaps tight the British are doomed. Their troops will have to flee north and east to Nova Scotia where they hold their last naval base at Halifax…”
He broke off as the door to the Cabinet Room opened and President Lincoln entered. Just behind him was Judah P. Benjamin.
“Gentlemen,” Lincoln said, seating himself at the head of the table. “You all know Mr. Benjamin. Please welcome him now as our newest cabinet minister — the Secretary for the Southern States.”
Benjamin bowed his head slightly at the murmured greetings, shook the Secretary of State’s hand when Seward generously extended it, took his appointed seat.
“In previous meetings,” Lincoln said, “we have discussed the necessity of representation from the South. A few days ago Mr. Benjamin stepped down as appointed leader of the Confederacy when the last meeting of the Congress of the Confederacy was convened. He will tell you about that.”
There was a tense silence as Judah P. Benjamin spoke to them in his rich Louisiana drawl, a tone of unhappiness in his words.
“I will not lie to you and say that it was a pleasant time. The more level-headed gentlemen of the South were no longer present, some of them are already here in Washington and sitting in the House of Representatives. I will not go so far as to say that only the hotheads and the firm-minded were left, but there was indeed a good deal of acrimony. Some of them felt that the honor of the South had been betrayed. Motions were made and passions ran high. I am sorry to report that two more Congressmen were arrested when they threatened violence. In the end I had to bring in veteran troops who, having seen the bloody hell of war, would not let these men stand in the way of peace. Their commander was General Jackson who stood like a stone wall before the dissenters. Unmoved by pleas or curses, firm in his resolve, he saw to it that the last meeting of the Confederate Congress ended peacefully.”
He stopped for a moment seeing something they did not see. A country he had served, now vanished forever. He saw the South perhaps, soon to be changed beyond all recognition. He frowned and shook his head.
“Do not think that I weep for the fallen Confederacy. I do not weep, but can only hope, pray, that we can put the division of the states behind us. I ended the meeting, had those ejected who tried to remain, declared that the Confederate Congress had now ceased to exist. And then had the building sealed. I think I have done my part in the healing process. I now call upon you gentlemen, and the Congress of the United States to do yours. Keep the promises you have made. See that there will be an honest peace. If you do not do that — why then I have been part of the biggest betrayal in the history of mankind.”
“We will endeavor with all our will and strength to do just that,” the President said. “Now that the states of the South are sending representatives to Congress the wounds of our recent war must heal. But there will be problems in the process, none here would be so foolish as to deny that. During the past weeks I have worked closely with Judah P. Benjamin and have formed a bond. We are of like mind in many ways, and believe in the same future.
“To assure that future we must speak as one. This Cabinet must be firm in its resolve. Reuniting this country and binding up our wounds will not be easy. There are already reports of friction in the Southern states, about the purchase of slaves. We want to make sure that if and when problems arise they can be dealt with by Mr. Benjamin, who is not only knowledgeable in these matters, but is also respected and trusted in all parts of the former Confederacy.”
“There will always be hotheads and malcontents,” Benjamin said, “Particularly in the South where honor is held in great esteem and blood does run warm. The troubles that the President refers to are in Mississippi and I have already had correspondence about the matter. Simply put, it is the Reconstruction Act. While the details of purchase of slaves is spelled out, the prices to be paid are sufficiently vague to cause trouble. I intend to go to Mississippi at the soonest opportunity to thrash out details on the spot. We must make policy that is favorable and agreeable to all. If I can produce a workable agreement with the Mississippi planters I know that other plantation owners throughout the South will adhere to whatever rules we draw up.”
“Excellent,” Lincoln said. “This is the keystone of our agreement and it must work and work well.” He folded his hands before him in an unconscious attitude of prayer. “Our problems will multiply with time. In the past we have thought only of survival, of winning the war. With the armistice we ended one war to enable us to fight another. Here too we had but a single track to follow. We had to destroy our enemy and force him from our land. With the aid of our Creator we are doing that. But what of the future?”
He closed his eyes wearily, then snapped them open and sat erect. “We are no longer on a single track. Ahead of us are branch lines and switches that lead in many different ways. The mighty train of the Union must find its way through all hazards to a triumphant future.”
“And just exactly what will that be?” William Seward said. There would be a presidential election and his ambition for that office was well known.
“We don’t exactly know, Mr. Seward,” Lincoln said. “We must seek guidance in that matter. Not from the Lord this time, but from a man of great wisdom. He has shared this knowledge with Mr. Davis and myself, and recently with Mr. Benjamin, and was of great aid in preparing the Emancipation Bill. I have asked him here today to speak with you all, to answer grave questions like the last one. We will send for him now.” He nodded to his secretary who slipped out of the room.
“We have heard of your adviser. English is he not?” There was dark suspicion in the Attorney General’s voice.
“He is,” Lincoln said firmly. “As was this nation’s other great political adviser, Tom Paine. And, I believe, as were the founding fathers of the Republic. That is the ones who weren’t Scotch or Irish. Or Welsh.”
Bates scowled at the laughter that followed, but held his peace, unconvinced.
“Mr. John Stuart Mill, gentlemen,” Lincoln said as Hay showed him in.
“You can read the future?” the Attorney General asked. “You can predict what events will and will not happen?”
“Of course not, Mr. Bates. But I can point out pitfalls in your path to the future, and point out as well achievable goals.” He looked around calmly, very much in control of himself and of his words. “I wish to get to know you all much better. You gentlemen are the ones who will shape the future, for you and the President are the guiding stars of this country. So I will speak generally of these goals and what can realistically be obtained, and will then be happy to answer particular questions about your aspirations.