General Thomas Jackson looked as dour as usual while studying the situation map of his two-front battle in and east of Louisville, but his heart sang within him. 'I truly do believe we have nothing more to fear from the Army of the Ohio,' he said.
'I think you're right, sir,' E. Porter Alexander agreed with a boyish grin. 'Been a hard fight-they are brave, even if their officers could be better-but I don't really see how they can surprise us now.'
'That's why they fight wars, General Alexander: to discover how the other fellow can surprise you.' When Jackson essayed a joke, he was in good humor indeed. More seriously, he went on, 'In my view, however, you are correct. 1 do not think they can break free of their present lines, and the cost of containing them within those lines appears acceptable. That being said, will you take some supper with me?'
'I'd be delighted, sir, so long as you let me put mustard on my meat,' Alexander said, grinning still.
'Such sauces are unhealthy,' Jackson insisted. His artillery chef looked eloquently unconvinced. Jackson yielded, as he would not have on the battlefield. 'Have it your way. General. You see, I refuse you nothing.' Laughing, the two men started out of the tent.
Had Alexander not teased Jackson, they would have been gone when the messenger came rushing in. Instead, he almost ran into them-he almost ran over them, as a matter of fact. 'General Jackson, sir!' he gasped. 'They've captured-you'll never guess who they've captured, sir! He's on his way here now, not that far behind me.'
He was so excited, he didn't notice he'd failed to give Jackson the name. 'Who is on his way here now?' the Confederate general-in-chief inquired. 'By the way you sound, young man, it might be General Willcox himself.'
'Even better'n that, sir,' the messenger answered, chortling with glee. 'They just captured Frederick Douglass his own self.'
'You don't mean it!' E. Porter Alexander exclaimed. That was foolishness: the messenger obviously did mean it. Alexander turned to look at Jackson. Jackson was already looking at Alexander. The same thought had to be uppermost in both their minds. Alexander spat it out first: 'We couldn't get a hotter potato right out of the fire, sir. What in blazes do we do with him?'
'I don't know.' Jackson briefly felt all at sea. This was not the sort of decision he was supposed to have to make. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he knew what needed doing. Stepping back into the tent, he walked over to the telegraphers' table. 'I am going to wire President Longstreet, requesting instructions. This is more a political than a military matter, and beyond my sphere of competence.' He dictated a brief telegram, then turned back to the messenger. 'You said Douglass is being brought here?'
'Yes, sir,' the man answered.
'I had better stay and await him, then. General Alexander, you may go and eat your mustard without me.'
'Sir, by your leave, I wouldn't miss this for the world,' Alexander said. 'It's almost like having the Antichrist walk into the tent, isn't it?'
'I had not thought of it in those terms, but you are not far wrong,' Jackson agreed. He nodded to an orderly. 'Bring back supper for two, Corporal-no, for three: Douglass will be hungry, too, no doubt. And bring back as well a pot of mustard for General Alexander, since he will have it.'
After that, there was nothing to do but wait. The orderly returned with three full plates, a mustard pot, and three cups of coffee. Jackson and Alexander were still wondering whether to begin on their own meals when the tent flap opened and Frederick Douglass walked in ahead of a couple of grinning young soldiers with bayoneted Tredegars. 'I thank you for delivering your present, lads,' Jackson told them. 'I believe we shall be able to protect ourselves from him henceforward. Go on back to your regiment now.' Saluting, they obeyed.
Frederick Douglass was staring at him. The Negro-mulatto, actually, by his looks-was a fine figure of a man, despite dishevelment and obvious dismay. 'You are Stonewall Jackson,' he said, his voice deep and rich, his accent that of an educated man of the United States, with only the slightest hint of something else, something softer, underneath.
'I am,' Jackson admitted. He pointed to the food the orderly had just brought. 'Will you join General Alexander here and me for supper?'
To his surprise, Douglass burst out laughing. 'I beg your pardon, General,' he said, checking himself after a moment, 'but, seeing you, I feel rather as if I have been ushered into the presence of the Antichrist. In that presence, the last thing I expected was a supper invitation.'
Jackson said, 'You may be interested to know that, not fifteen minutes before your arrival, General Alexander compared your coming to that of the Antichrist.'
'To the unrighteous, the righteous no doubt seem wicked,' Douglass replied.
'You are not the least bold of men, to say such a thing here,' Jackson observed, more approvingly than otherwise.
E. Porter Alexander caught something he had missed: 'Who here is righteous, who the reverse, and how do you go about proving it?' He held up a hand. 'Since we could argue about that through the night, what say we don't, but eat supper instead?'
'I find myself unable to oppose such logic, especially when I but recently thought a noose my certain fate,' Douglass said. Jackson contented himself with a single short, sharp nod.
A couple of minutes later, General Alexander said, 'Do you see, sir? Douglass is among the righteous after all-for he eats mustard.'
'His digestion would be better if he abstained,' said Jackson, who, as usual, used only salt on his meat. Frederick Douglass looked from one of them to the other, unsure how serious they were. Jackson willed his face to reveal nothing. Only when his artillery chief smiled did the captured Negro agitator relax.
After all three men had finished, Douglass asked the question no doubt uppermost in his mind since he'd entered the tent-no doubt uppermost in his mind since he was taken prisoner: 'What do you intend to do with me, General?'
'Hold you here until I have received instructions from President Longstreet.' Jackson answered, 'then follow them, whatever they may be.' He cocked his head to one side, raised his arm in the air, and asked in turn, 'What would you have us do with you?'
'What would I have you do?' Douglass said. 'Why, release me, of course. I am a U.S. citizen, and a civilian member of the Fourth Estate.'
'You are, I have heard, an escaped slave,' Jackson remarked.
Douglass scowled. 'I am an escaped slave,' he said proudly, 'but I escaped from Maryland, which is and has always been one of the United States, not a Confederate state, so your cruel laws pertaining to such conduct are without application to my case. Further, on payment of the sum of one hundred dollars, my former master formally manumitted me in December of the year 1846, proof of which I can readily provide if allowed to communicate in any way with my friends. I am, sir, a free man, both in my heart and in point of law.'
'You are the cause of more runaways and the wellspring of more plots against the white men of the Confederate States than any other half dozen people I could name,' E. Porter Alexander said.
'Thank you,' Douglass replied, which nonplussed the artillerist. Douglass added, 'You are telling me I have not lived my life as a free man in vain.'
'Why should we not condemn you for attempting to create a servile insurrection of the sort John Brown tried raising?' Jackson asked.
'I advised Brown against that, brave patriot though I thought him-and still think him,' Douglass said with a defiant toss of his head. 'As for why you should not, I told you: I do not fall, and have never fallen, under your jurisdiction. I have broken none of my nation's laws. If you declare me persona non grata and deport me, you would be within your rights. Condemn me? No, not if you wish to adhere to the law of nations.'
Jackson leaned forward, relishing the argument. 'But uprisen slaves have committed many outrages in the Confederate States, some of them citing you as the author of their discontent. In war, shall I shoot the simpled- minded soldier who goes over the hill as a deserter, while taking no notice of the wily civilian who induces him to desert? Your case strikes me as similar.'
'How can it?' Douglass raised his impressive eyebrows. 'Do you not aim to keep your Negroes in such abysmal ignorance that they are not allowed to learn to read and write, lest the written word lead them to the desire for freedom? How then could your servile populace come to know my words, since assuredly I have never given an address within Confederate territory?'
