He also thought of Jefferson Davis’s remark that he would have pursued Southern independence even if that meant going into the hills and fighting for years, and of his own reply that he was too old to make a bushwhacker. Plenty of desperate ex-Union Negroes were of a proper age to learn that trade, and plenty more blacks who might not themselves fight would quietly support those who did. Before the war, slave revolts in the South had been few and small and soon stamped out. Those days were gone. The Confederate States had won one civil war. No matter how fiercely Forrest fought, another was just beginning.
He laughed at himself. He had never imagined taking up arms against the United States of America. And now, having done so, he saw no better way to serve the new country he had helped create than to become an abolitionist.
Talks with the Federal commissioners dragged on. The smaller issues resolved themselves: in exchange for the Confederates’ abandoning claims to New Mexico, the United States yielded the Indian Territory. Judah Benjamin had predicted as much after the first meeting. Lee wondered why what seemed so obvious took so long to decide.
“You will never make a diplomat, General Lee, despite your many accomplishments and virtues,” Benjamin said; his constant smile widened slightly to show real amusement. “Had the United States quickly conceded the Indian Territory to us, we should have been emboldened to press harder on the issue of Missouri. By the same token, had we given up New Mexico without a struggle, the Federals might well have perceived that as weakness, and so been less inclined to see reason over the Indian Territory.”
Put that way, the negotiations reminded Lee of a campaign of attrition, the sort Grant seemed to have had in mind against him in the spring of 1864. Attrition was not his style. whether he faced an enemy in the field or a difficulty in his life, he always aimed to overcome it with one bold stroke.
Though it had failed Grant, attrition worked, at least to a point, for Seward, Stanton, and Butler. By making it clear that the United States were willing to fight over Maryland and West Virginia, they convinced Jefferson Davis to yield them. Lee concurred in that decision; having fought in both states, he’d seen that their people favored the Union.
Kentucky and Missouri were something else again. The United States were willing to fight to keep them, but the Confederacy was equally willing to fight to acquire them. Tempers on both sides ran high. Lee looked for the bold stroke that might cut through the knotty problem. At length, the idea for such a stroke came to him. He set it before President Davis. Davis generally preferred directness himself and, after some initial hesitation, gave his assent. Then Lee waited for the proper moment to let it loose.
That moment came in late September, after a series of fiery speeches by Fremont seemed to put Lincoln on the defensive, even among Republicans. All three of the Federal commissioners came to a negotiating session looking worn. Butler, who had begun the war as a Democrat, these days had one foot and a couple of toes of the other in Fremont’s camp. Stanton, a Lincoln loyalist, was gloomy to find so hard a road ahead of his patron. And Seward, who had first sought the Presidency himself and then tried to dominate Lincoln while Secretary of State, had the appearance of a man who wondered yet again how fate could have allowed that gangling bumpkin to overcome him.
Seeing the men across the table from him in the Cabinet room thus distracted, Lee said, “My friends, I think I have found a way to simply settle our difficulties concerning the disputed states of Kentucky and Missouri. Surely you will agree that our two great republics ought to be able to resolve our problems in a spirit that accords with the principles we both espouse.”
“Which principles are those?” Stanton asked. “The ones which proclaim that one man ought to be able to buy and sell another? We do not espouse such principles, General Lee.”
Lee did not show the frown he felt. That he privately agreed with Stanton only made more difficult the public position he was required to maintain. He answered, “The principle that government is based upon the consent of the governed.”
“And so?” Ben Butler’s voice was filled with a lawyer’s professional scorn.” I presume the Negroes of your dominions have consented to your domination of them?”
“They have the same franchise among us as in most of the Northern states,” Judah P. Benjamin replied. He gave Lee a courteous nod. “Pray continue, sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Secretary.” Lee looked across the table at the commissioners from the United States. “Gentlemen, here is what I propose: Let the citizens of the two states in question decide the matter for themselves in a fair vote, not to be influenced by force or the presence of troops of either the United or Confederate states. President Davis will pledge the Confederate States to abide by the result of such an election. It is his sincere hope that President Lincoln will also concur with what is, after all, the most equitable solution possible to the dilemma confronting us.”
“Equitable?” William H. Seward accomplished more with a slightly raised eyebrow than Butler had with ostentatious scorn. “How do you presume to speak of equity, sir, when you call for the withdrawal only of Federal forces and of none of your own?”
“How do you presume to speak of equity when, by holding down these states through force of arms, you prevent them from exercising their sovereign rights?” Lee returned.
Ben Butler sniffed,” Just another of the worthless schemes you Confederates keep inventing and advancing.”
“No, sir,” Judah Benjamin said. “My predecessor as Secretary of State, Mr. R. M. T. Hunter, set forth a similar proposal in letters of February 1862 to Messrs. Mason and Slidell in London and Paris respectively. We have been willing—indeed, eager—to put our faith in the will of the people most directly affected by the choice involved. The United States continually proclaim their adherence to democracy. Have they less affection for it when it might bring a result contrary to their desires?”
“Certainly we do,” Stanton said. “So do you, or you’d not have bolted the Union when the last election went against you.”
That shot had some truth to it. Vice President Stephens showed as much by ignoring it in his reply: “Gentlemen of the United States, in simple justice’s name, we request that you transmit to President Lincoln the proposal General Lee advanced, and at your earliest convenience return to us his response.”
“As you are aware, he has empowered us to act as his plenipotentiaries in this matter,” Seward said.
Lee sensed that the Federal Secretary of State was unwilling to do as Stephens had asked. Throughout the war, Lincoln had, despite his determination to return the South to the United States, occasionally shown flexibility as to how that return might come about. He had also continued to believe, against all evidence, that considerable pro-Union sentiment remained in the seceded states. If he also exaggerated the two border states’ affection for rule from Washington, Lee’s was a notion to which he might be inclined to listen. Lee had counted on that when he put it forward.
Prodding, he said, “Surely you gentlemen cannot fear your President would overrule you?”
That earned him a glare from Stanton, a basilisklike gaze from Butler, and Seward’s usual imperturbability. Seward said, “Since this appears to be a condition upon which you insist, we shall do as you require.” He got to his feet. “Accordingly, there seems little point in continuing today’s discussions. Would you be so kind as to prepare your formulation in writing, in order to eliminate the risk of misapprehension on our part of what you have in mind?”