[orchestra tuning] [crowd noise] [orchestra music] Welcome!

I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story.

[rousing music] [plucking string instruments] [rousing strings, horns] It's July 3rd, 1754.

Roughly 400 British soldiers, mostly colonials from Virginia, are pinned down by an army of 600 or more French and their 100 or so Native American allies.

The British Army occupies one of the poorest excuses for a fort you could ever imagine.

It consists of what we could call a small cabin, encircled by a palisade, basically a 7-foot tall fence made of rough-hewn wooden posts.

It's only large enough for 70 or so men to take advantage of this lackluster protection.

That leaves the roughly 300 other soldiers outside crouching or laying behind nothing more than a shallow earthen parapet as musket balls and arrows fly towards them.

The only thing worse than the wooden fortification's construction might be its location.

We are in southwestern Pennsylvania, though given the era, we might do better to think of this ill-defined region as the Ohio.

The fort sits in an open meadow on a valley floor surrounded by tree-covered hills.

In other words, it's exposed, while the French and Native Americans enjoy the cover of trees and the high ground.

With the tree line as close as a mere 60 yards, they can almost pick off their British foe.

If mid-18th century guns were actually accurate, that fort might only be filled with the dead.

Bad as this is, things grow even worse for the British as the morning's rain turns into a torrential afternoon storm.

The commander of this godforsaken scene is a 22-year-old, untrained lieutenant colonel thrust into his first large-scale battle.

In a time when the average colonial American stands around 5 feet and 8 inches, this kid is at least 6 feet tall.

He cuts an imposing figure in his sharp red and blue uniform, although his tricorn hat has long ago failed to protect his face from the rain.

What hope can this 22-year-old leader have?

He's not just inexperienced and ill-equipped.

He's also outgunned and outnumbered.

No one trained him for any of this.

Fact is, this situation could hardly look more grim or deadly for the young, in-over-his-head, Virginian Lieutenant Colonel: George Washington.

[swelling music] [applause] Thank you!

Thank you!

Thank you so much.

How are we doing tonight?

[cheers, applause] That is what I like to hear.

I like seeing the general in the front row.

That makes my evening.

Good to see you, sir.

You got off to a bad start there, but we'll get back to that.

Because I left you on a cliffhanger.

I realize that all of you are dying to know.

Will young George Washington... survive?

[laughter] Okay, I'm going to tell you how George gets out of this mess.

But to be clear, I'm not here to tell you the story of our capital "F" Founding Father.

Our main character, our protagonist, isn't even a person.

It's an idea; an idea that almost wasn't.

one that has nearly died a thousand deaths: that audacious idea of a union of American states.

I'm here to tell you the tale of 13 disparate, distinct, unattached-to-each-other, British colonies setting aside their differences to unite as something greater, and how that union survived a bloody existential crisis— the Civil War.

Now, some of you are thinking, "I know this story."

Maybe.

But not as I tell it: as an intentional blend of academic history and story.

Somewhere between earning my PhD, becoming a tenured professor, then turning professional podcaster, all the usual opportunities afforded by a humanities education... [laughter] somewhere along that path, I came to appreciate that, although accurate source-based history rarely follows simple narratives, good history always retains that human element: the story.

So tonight, I'll weave back and forth between being your analytical professor, who situates and explains, and your storyteller.

In doing so, I promise you a legit, seriously researched, hard-hitting history of this American union, told through entertaining stories, all of which are grounded in historical sources.

But enough setup.

Let's figure out how these 13 colonies in British North America grew into a union of states.

To that end, we must leave our 21st-century theater and travel back in time, more than 270 years, back to that world-changing night, July 3rd, 1754, when a young George Washington, in a pathetic fort, in a godforsaken meadow, unknowingly started the first whispers of an American union.

Are we ready?

Rewind!

[tape rewind sound] Night is falling.

Half of the fort's militiamen are drunk.

Yet the French stop firing around 8:00 pm.

A Frenchman calls out from beyond the parapet: "Voulez-vous parler?"

Do you want to talk?

With roughly 100 men dead or wounded a full fourth of his forces, George Washington has little choice.

It's time to parley.

Later that night, George sits in his cold, damp fort, staring down at a document he can't read.

It's written in French.

Our Lieutenant Colonel looks to his interpreter, Jacob van Braam.

Speaking neither perfect English nor French, the Dutchman squints under dim candlelight, translating as best he can the terms of capitulation to his monolingual commander.

It seems the French will let George leave the fort with his men and full military honors.

He counts himself lucky, and signs the articles of capitulation.

The next day, the 4th of July, the young colonial commander leads his battered militia back to Virginia.

Crisis averted!

[horse whinny, birdsong] Or so he thinks.

[music] The French and British empires have been on a collision course for a while.

That's particularly true in North America, as the east-coast-inhabiting British colonies and the Mississippi-Valley-and- Canada-controlling French both covet the quasi-Iroquois-governed Ohio Valley.

It's in this context that colonial Virginia's leadership sent a young, untrained and inexperienced George Washington to assert its interests out here.

That's how George ended up fighting a far larger, allied French and Native American force at his sad little fort: Fort Necessity.

They sign a truce, as we know, but it's worthless.

George takes all the blame, and the British crown soon sends a professional army to kick the French out of the Ohio Valley.

Two years later, in 1756, this American conflict, the French and Indian War, goes global, and acquires another name reflecting its worldwide duration: the Seven Years War.

Fair or not, young George Washington was the spark in a political tinder box, as Sir Horace Walpole is alleged to have put it, "The volley fired by a young Virginian" "in the backwoods of America" "set the world on fire."

Yet, I would go further.

George's volley set the fire that began forging the colonies together.

I can't overstate this: the 13 colonies don't see themse as a "thing" in the mid-1700s.

The British crown rules over them, sure, but each colony is a separate political entity.

Let me put it this way: strolling into a 1750s New York pub and saying something like, "New York, Virginia, it's all the same British turf, right?"

That would be just as stupid as walking into nearby Pittsburgh Steelers Stadium today and yelling, "Go Ravens!"

[laughter] "Football..." "It's all the same, right?"

Point taken, huh?

Yeah.

Though under the same British crown, these colonies are different teams.

But then George went to the Ohio, and we got this.

With a few colonies grouped at the head as New England, we move down a sliced-up serpent to find segments representing New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia, and at the tail, the two Carolinas.

This is the Join or Die flag.

A sandy-haired, 40-something Philadelphian named Benjamin Franklin drew this political cartoon and published it in his Pennsylvania Gazette on May 9th, 1754.

Here is that newspaper in all of its glory.

So again, the colonies are super independent from each other, yet, our boy Ben just suggested some sort of union so long before the Revolution that his fellow future Founding Father Alexander Hamilton hasn't even been born yet.

Now, where did Ben get this crazy idea?

Let's check out the article above his "Join or Die" cartoon.

Our colonial renaissance man was reporting on... "Major Washington."

He got George's rank wrong.

Easy to do, amid this barely-not-a-kid's too-fast promotions, but no matter.

Look at what Ben identified as the cause of France's incredible swagger.

"The confidence of the French in this undertaking" "seems well-grounded in the present" "disunited state of the British colonies," "and the extreme difficulty of bringing" "so many different governments and assemblies" "to agree in any speedy and effectual measures" "for our common defense and security."

That's right.

Ben's "Join or Die" idea wasn't about uniting against the British crown, even if it will re-emerge later for that purpose.

It was originally about uniting against the French in the Ohio Valley because the colonies were so very, to use Ben's word, "disunited."

Yet, in the summer of 1754, Ben's idea leads to 7 colonies holding a meeting, or, "congress," as they call it, in Albany New York, Now, this "congress" doesn't prove a success, but the idea of union, the seed of union, is now out there.

The British win in 1763.

France loses all of its claims on the North American mainland, while Britain picks up just about everything east of the Mississippi River.

As historian Francis Parkman will later put it so succinctly, "half the continent had changed hands..." "at the scratch of a pen."

Sounds good for Britain, but you know how it is: more territory, more problems.

[laughter] Yeah, you feel me.

[laughter] Newly crowned King George III fears future challenges from France, French-allied Spain, or the Indigenous peoples who call his new claims "home."

So he does two things.

One: proclaims that his subjects are not to settle in that uncontrolled turf west of the Appalachian Mountains.

I told you, historical sources.

[laughter] Two: leaves a 10,000-man army to protect said turf.

[laughter] Now, there's one problem though.

Maintaining this army in America will be expensive AF.

And— [laughter] Kids, if you'd explain that one to mom and dad on the drive home.

[laughter] Okay, so it'll be expensive.

And Britain's still drowning in war debt.

So what can be done?

Parliament decides to try something never done in colonial America's over-a-century-long history, despite having no American-elected members, Parliament will tax the Americans.

First taxes hit in 1764 and '65.

Parliament nails a lot of stuff, but most important are enforced customs duties on foreign molasses and a direct tax on paper.

Both are crucial.

New England needs molasses to make rum, which serves as a form of currency in the era.

Also, it's rum.

[laughter] You don't come between colonial America and its booze.

As for paper, this basically taxes life.

Newspapers, bills of sale, even playing cards— this would be like taxing the internet in our time, and the not-represented colonials are outraged.

They boycott, assault government officials... and hold another congress.

Yes, Parliament's squeeze is encouraging more unification as 9 discontent colonies meet in NYC.

This backlash gets Parliament to back off these taxes the next year, 1766, so hey, colonial victory, am I right?

[laughter] Yeah, not so fast.

Still broke, Parliament takes another swing at taxation in 1767: the Townshend Acts.

These only tax goods at colonial ports, but the colonists' complaint remains, which isn't simply that there's taxation.

They aren't anarchists.

They pay taxes in their home colonies, but that this is taxation without representation.

More boycotts and violence follow, particularly in the port city of Boston.

In June 1768, enraged Bostonians beat customs agents and trash their homes.

Good God.

The colonists see themselves as defending their rights, but His Majesty's Government sees rebellion.

[music] It sends a 2,000-man army to occupy Boston.

This begins October 1st, 1768.

Redcoats patrol the streets, and an uneasy peace ensues... for 17 months, that is.

On February 22nd, 1770, a North End crowd harangues Boston-born, but loyal customs employee Ebenezer Richardson.

They follow him, screaming threats, detailing which of his internal organs they'll rip out.

As he seeks refuge in his house, they throw stones that shatter his windows and hit his wife.

Terrified, enraged, Ebenezer grabs his gun and fires into the crowd.

[gunshot, drums] He kills an 11-year-old boy, Christopher Seider.

Little Christopher is the first to die as a direct result of the rising tensions between the Crown and the colonies.

Two weeks later, amid these same tensions on the frigid snowy moonlit night of March 5th, British troops open fire on a crowd of Bostonians.

Witnesses abound, but the accounts differ greatly.

The Boston Gazette calls it "A Bloody Massacre" of innocent lads!

British publications call it an "unhappy disturbance" in which troops defended themselves from a mob.

Huh.

So it's like the news looks entirely different depending on which publication you read.

[laughter] Glad that doesn't happen in our day and age.

[laughter] We'll never know exactly what happened that night, but the soldiers' rock star attorney, Mr.

John Adams, effectively demonstrates that his clients had cause to fear for their lives and defend themselves.

The New Englander jury acquits all but two soldiers found guilty of the lesser charge of manslaughter.

As first-time offenders, they're branded on the thumbs, the 18th-century equivalent of a slap on the wrist.

They rejoin their unit the next day.

[music ends] The step toward union on this round of taxes isn't about united action, but a united awareness of Boston's plight.

I mean, military occupation?

British troops killed 5 colonials, 6, if we include little Christopher.

The occupation ends, the Townshend acts are partially repealed, but His Majesty's Government has created colonial martyrs.

Each separate, distinct colony mourns with the Bostonians of Massachusetts Bay.

And yet, the financial root of the problem remains unaddressed.

So, still strapped for cash, Parliament takes a third swing at taxing the colonies.

And when it does, those Bostonians, they don't pull any punches.

[mob voices] It's the night of December 16th, 1773.

We're at Boston Harbor at Griffin's Wharf where 30 to 150 men disguised as Mohawks are moving in on 3 ships: the Beaver, the Eleanor, and the Dartmouth.

They intimidate their way past officials and crews then board the vessels.

Using pulleys, they lift chests, most weighing over 400 pounds, to the deck.

Here, their fellow incognito vigilantes use axes to break these massive boxes open.

Inside each of the largest chests is over 350 pounds of tea leaves and the masked men shovel it all overboard right into the harbor's waters below.

Once emptied, they even throw the 90-pound chests over just for good measure.

By 9:00 pm, all 3 ships' collective 342 chests have been emptied.

46 tons of tea, valued at £9,659 the equivalent of some $2 million in our currency, are left swirling in the teapot that is Boston Harbor.

[music] This is it.

Parliament's had enough of these property-destroying, redcoat-assaulting, saltwater-tea-making, seditious Bostonians.

It's time to punish and coerce these ill-behaved American subjects back into line.

Hence, their newest set of laws: the Coercive Acts.

These: shut down Boston Harbor until the city's residents pay for the destroyed tea; Make the previously elected Massachusetts Council, Crown-appointed; Let officials charged with a capital crime in Massachusetts, like the Boston Massacre, have their trial in another colony, or even Great Britain; and include a new soldier-housing Quartering Act.

So suck on that, rebellious colonials.

Cower and learn your place!

But the colonials don't cower.

Instead, they again mourn with Boston and lose all trust in Parliament, calling these Coercive Acts, the Intolerable Acts.

But they're doing far more than giving acts of Parliament nicknames.

It's time for another meeting, another...

"congress."

[music ends] It's the week of September 5th, 1774.

Delegates of not 7 colonies, like the 1754 Albany Congress, not 9, like the 1765 Stamp Act Congress, but 12.

All but Georgia have gathered in Philadelphia for a sit down at gorgeous Carpenters Hall.

This is the First Continental Congress.

And everyone here knows these Coercive, these Intolerable Acts, are a horrific, tyrannical overstep.

But what should they do about them?

How should these delegates even vote?

As individuals?

Or as colonies?

[music] As they contemplate that last question, Patrick Henry rises.

The renowned, gaunt Virginian wi a minister-like tone says they should vote as individuals, proclaiming, "The distinctions between Virginians, Pennsylvanians," "New Yorkers, and New Englanders are no more."

"I am not a Virginian," "but an American."

In other words, forget Steelers and Ravens.

[laughter] We are all football fans.

Is this really the case, though?

No, and these delegates are still very much Virginians, Pennsylvanians, and so on first, not Americans.

They'll vote as colonies.

But to even hear Patrick verbalize such an identity!

It's profound, as is their entertaining a proposed colonial British Parliament plan of union, even if Congress shoots down the idea with a vote 6█5 to table it.

By its end in October, this Congress rejects Parliament's authority in the colonies, makes a statement on colonial rights, and creates "The Association," which will rely on the help of some 7,000 men across the colonies to enforce a ban on trade with Britain, as well as a ban on the slave trade.

Huh.

Sounds a little regulatory, a little government-lite.

Maybe this can be considered a first sort of union.

Some historians say so, but now the ball is back in His Majesty's court.

The colonials will wait and see how the King reacts.

If they get a bad response, then, and only then, another Continental Congress will convene on May 10th, 1775.

[music ends] It is the best in the franchise.

[laughter] So it's May 10th, 1775.

We're back in Philly.

Turns out the boys in London weren't fans of the First Continental Congress's economic sanctions and rejection of Parliamentary power.

Worse still, the Massachusetts governor's attempt to disarm patriot, or as he sees it, rebel militias brought civil war to New England last month.

Thus, a Second Continental Congress.

This time, at the State House, or as we will later know it, Independence Hall.

As at last year's Congress, it's easier to agree that there is a problem than to agree on what to do.

And these delegates run a political spectrum.

Some are thinking diplomatically, while others are more like, "It's go time."

The Adams cousins.

[laughter] So what can or should they do?

Winning a victory for the radicals, John Adams pushes this Continental Congress to reorganize the ragtag militias up north into a Continental Army.

This is a huge, unifying step.

It makes New England civil war the colonies' civil war.

Now, who should lead such an army?

Again, John has a suggestion.

Virginia delegate Colonel George Washington.

Why George?

We caught him at a low point back at Fort Necessity in 1754, but George became a full-on hero a year later as bullets tore through his clothes and he saved hundreds of men from an ambush.

So he has cred.

But further, our favorite northern curmudgeon, John Adams, knows that this army won't become truly Continental, truly united.

If it remains a New Englander█led New England force.

George helps here too, he's a Virginian.

In brief, the Massachusetts man sees in George exactly what this army needs.

A southern badass.

[laughter] Congress agrees.

The Colonel becomes the General.

But this Congress is still divided.

It next sends His Majesty an Olive Branch Petition, calling for a "happy and permanent reconciliation;" yet, the next day, it signs off on the “Declaration of the Causes and Necessity of Taking Up Arms,” which is like, but also, we're s justified in going to war, So yippee-ki-yay, mother— country.

[laughter] Parents, if you could explain that one to the kids on the drive home.

[laughter] It is a Christmas movie.

[laughter] Come on.

Come on.

[applause] But a more radical position is winning out as winter wears on.

One most wouldn't have even dreamed of before 1775.

One that will push union all the more.

This is the crazy notion that perhaps this war isn't so civil after all.

Maybe this is a war for independence.

Champions of independence are growing louder.

In January 1776, Thomas Paine makes a compelling case in his pamphlet, Common Sense.

On March 31st, Abigail Adams writes to her husband, John, down in Philly.

"I long to hear that you have declared an independency."

John has been of the same mind for quite a while, so he's thrilled when on June 7th, Virginia's Richard Henry Lee puts this before Congress, "Resolved, that these United Colonies are," "and of a right ought to be," "free and independent states," "that a plan of confederation be prepared" "and transmitted to the respective Colonies" "for their consideration and approbation."

Not "these colonies" like past documents, but "United Colonies."

It also calls for a “plan of confederation,” that is, a closer relationship or alliance.

June 7th, though... a little early for Independence Day.

Well, again, this line of thinking is a big shift, and many delegates want to check in with their home colonies.

Congress takes a recess.

When it comes back, the intellectual knives will come out.

[chatter] It's the morning of July 1st, 1776.

Second Continental Congress delegates are seated in their Windsor chairs.

The debate before them, the Lee Resolution to declare independence.

An oval-faced, fair-featured, Pennsylvanian rises.

Forcefully fighting Parliamentary overreach since the Stamp Act with his brilliant publication, Letters from a Farmer in Pennsylvania.

This is the famous "penman of the Revolution," John Dickinson.

He begins, [music] "The consequences involved in the motion," "now lying before you, are of such magnitude," "that I tremble under the oppressive honor" "of sharing in its determination."

Somberly, this moderate Pennsylvanian goes on to argue against an immediate declaration of independence.

He believes it will unnecessarily endanger reconciliation with Britain, and that foreign powers, like France, won't provide the aid many here think they will.

John D. continues, "To escape from the protection we have in British rule" "by declaring independence would be like" "Destroying a House before we have got another," "in winter, with a small family, then asking a neighbor" "to take us in and finding he is unprepared."

He further reports that their committee on confederation is making terrible progress.

Judging things as is, he doubts such a "commonwealth of colonies" would survive beyond 20 to 30 years.

The delegates silently contemplate this bleak outlook on independence.

Finally, John Adams can take it no longer.

The rotund New Englander rises and counters.

"Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish," "I give my hand and my heart to this vote."

"It is true, indeed, that in the beginning" "that we aimed not at independence."

"The injustice of England has driven us to arms."

"If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on," "or give up, the war?"

"Do we mean to submit, and consent" "that we ourselves shall be ground to powder" "and our country and its rights trodden down in the dust?"

"I know that we do not mean to submit."

"The war then, must go on."

"And if the war must go on," "why put off longer the Declaration of Independence?"

"Why then, why, Sir, do we not" "as soon as possible change this from a civil" "to a national war?"

"If it be the pleasure of heaven" "that my country shall require" "the poor offering of my life," "the victim shall be ready."

"But while I do live," "let me have a country, or at least" "the hope of a country, and that a free country."

"I leave off as I begun," "that live or die, survive or perish," "I am for the Declaration."

[applause] [music ends] They vote.

Only 9 colonies are in favor of independence.

A majority, but a vote of this magnitude needs unanimity.

It's a furious night of talking, persuading, convincing, and coaxing as the pro-independence delegates try to win over the moderates for another vote tomorrow.

New York again abstains, courteously.

But South Carolina and Pennsylvania flip while Caesar Rodney, who's ridden 80 miles through a stormy night for this, puts Delaware's vote with the ayes.

Thus, the July 2nd vote is 12 colonies in favor of independence, none against.

Two days later, the 4th of July, Congress approves the exact wording of its primarily Thomas Jefferson█authored Declaration, which includes this beautiful and revolutionary statement: "We hold these truths to be self-evident," "that all men are created equal," "that they are endowed by their Creator" "with certain Unalienable Rights," "that among these are Life, Liberty," "and the pursuit of Happiness."

So, we have independence.

[laughter] Declared.

It's declared at any rate, and with the high-minded ideals of unalienable rights.

The fight to make that a reality continues, as George Washington's Continentals square off against Sir William Howe's Redcoats in New York.

But that isn't the fight that we are interested in.

What's happening with that uniting plan of confederation?

In November 1777, a year and a half after the Declaration of Independence, our often disagreeing Founding Fathers agree on the Articles of Confederation for their “United States of America.” Huh.

“States,” not provinces.

That's intentional.

See, state is a synonym for country, and they're quick to note their independence, not just from the King, but each other in Article 2: "Each state retains its sovereignty," "freedom, and independence," "and every Power Jurisdiction, and right," "which is not by this confederation" "expressly delegated to the United States," "in Congress assembled."

Every state will approve the Articles over the next few years, but this is not a nation.

It is, as Article 3 tells us, merely "a league of friendship."

It's friends with benefits.

[laughter] As for that delegation point, these Articles give little to Congress.

Congress can't even tax.

Now, we can see where this crowd is coming from, they're a little touchy about taxation.

But as George Washington watches his men in his underfunded Continental Army starve and die at Valley Forge that same winter, he can't help but wish that Congress had just a bit more bite.

[music] Now, I would love to regale you with tales from the war.

Stories about the bookish king-of-cannons, Henry Knox; the legend of artillerywoman, Molly Pitcher; "brave and gallant" Salem Poor; Benedict Arnold's heroism at Saratoga in 1778 and betrayal in 1780, the crucial role of the French, Spanish, and Dutch Empires; and of course the undogged grit of George Washington.

But suffice it to say that when combined Franco-American army and navy surround and capture Lord Cornwallis' army on the Virginia coast at Yorktown in October 1781, the war is effectively over.

[music ends] I cannot tell you how much it pains me to reduce 9 podcast episodes to 3 sentences.

[laughter] The real fight is now in Paris, France, where John Adams, John Jay, and our aging friend, Ben Franklin are negotiating full recognition of American independence.

Ironically, they also pick up most of the territory that started this whole taxation dispute.

[music] But even with these incredible terms, all is not well within that "league of friendship," the united American states.

Unable to tax, and dependent upon the kindness of its independent sovereign member states, Congress can't pay its bills.

Owed serious back pay, Continental Army officers genuinely consider marching on Congress and stomping out the American experiment with a military dictatorship.

An uncharacteristically vulnerable George Washington barely talks them off this proverbial ledge.

Foreign war debts are also past due.

Meanwhile, the states are fighting.

New Yorkers and Vermonters dispute territory.

Maryland and Virginia bicker over Potomac River navigation rights.

In 1786, Captain Daniel Shays and other Revolutionary War veteran farmers grab muskets and rise up against the Massachusetts state government.

[tense music] It seems that John Dickinson's prediction amid the vote for independence, that their united commonwealth might not last even 20 years, was right.

The union, this league, is fraying.

So much so, that leaders across the American states finally relent to the calls of a few, particularly of a diminutive, hypochondriac from Virginia named James Madison, for another convention to re-examine this failing confederacy.

Once again, we're headed to Philly.

Starting in May 1787, this convention meets in the same place the Second Continental Congress did, the Pennsylvania State House.

These delegates have clear instructions.

Amend and alter the Articles of Confederation.

That is it.

So, you can imagine their shock when Virginia governor Edmund Randolph presents shy little James Madison's brainchild: "The Virginia Plan."

I won't mince words.

This plan is a complete departure from the state-sovereignty-protecting Articles.

It proposes a strong government, including a national executive, judiciary, and a two-house supreme legislature, empowered to tax and overpower all state laws, as well as a council of revision able to veto all national and state laws.

Whew.

In short, the Virginia plan takes the Articles of Confederation, crumples them up, stomps on them, and lights them on fire.

Debate rages.

William Paterson leads a small-state revolt with an alternate proposition much closer to the Articles of Confederation: the New Jersey Plan.

It fails.

Even in the 1780s, nobody's listening to New Jersey [laughter] But the bickering isn't over.

It takes until September for the delegates to compromise on a modified version of the Virginia Plan.

They land on a three-branch system: an executive, or "President;" a federal judiciary; and a two house legislature using their favorite word for meetings, Congress.

In a huge compromise, the lower house will represent a state's population, while the upper will grant each state two senators, no matter how big or small.

It isn't the full-blown national government envisioned by the Virginia plan; it's more than a league of friendship, though.

Brilliantly, uniquely, the member states and federal government will share sovereignty.

They're going to put a ring on it.

[laughter] But the details of this union's permanency and how this sovereignty sharing will work aren't remotely settled.

That's also the case for another large and looming issue: slavery.

Let's start by situating slavery in these American states.

It exists in all 13, even up North.

Fewer people are enslaved in the north, though, and the reason is the climate.

The farther south you go, the warmer it gets, and eventually we reach ideal temperatures for growing labor-intensive cash crops like cotton, tobacco, and rice, and eventually sugarcane, though you'll mostly find that in the West Indies for now.

Continuing south, slavery becomes an increasingly crucial part of state economies, and by the time we get to South Carolina and Georgia, it pretty much is the state economy, and still growing.

But northern states have been outlawing slavery in recent years.

Pennsylvania became the first government in the heavily enslaving western hemisphere to legislate against it in 1780 with its "act for the gradual abolition of slavery."

While civil suits in Massachusetts effectively end slavery there in the 1780s, most northern states are now following Pennsylvania's gradual path.

By the time of this constitutional convention, the northern and southern states are on divergent trajectories in regards to slavery.

Indeed, James Madison, himself a large slaveholder, even claims that the Constitutional Convention isn't separated so much along large and small state lines, but rather, quote, "principally from their having or not having slaves."

Close quote.

And with that context, let's see where this convention lands on the matter.

The Constitution mentions slaver 3 times.

First is Article 1, Section 2.3, which addresses whom to count for elections and taxes.

Southern delegates want enslaved Americans counted for election purposes, but not t Northern delegates want the exact opposite.

They compromise by counting all enslaved persons as three-fifths for both purposes.

Second is Article 1, Section 9.1 This prohibits Congress from outlawing the transatlantic slave trade for 20 years.

Last is Article 4, Section 2.3, which states that if any enslaved Americans flee across state lines, even to a free state, they are to be returned.

To quote the late, great, Constitutional scholar, Richard Beeman, Article 4, Secti 2 may well be the most "Article 4, Section 2 may well be the most" "reprehensible provision in the original US Constitution."

"It made all Americans actively complicit" "in protecting the institution of slavery."

How do the delegates, representing states professing that all men are created equal, come to these positions?

Not always happily.

Take, for instance, our friend who argued against John Adams over independence, John Dickinson.

Once a slaveholder, JD freed all those whom he legally owned out of a devotion to the revolution's ideals.

Now a delegate for Delaware, he writes this of the three-fifths compromise.

"Acting before the world, what will be said" "of this new principle of founding" "a right to govern freemen" "on a power derived from slaves?"

"The omitting of the word will be regarded as" "an endeavor to conceal a principle" "of which we are ashamed."

You're damn right, John.

And yes, if you read the US Constitution, you'll notice that the word "slave" is never used.

Our framers preferred euphemisms: "person held in service or labor;" "all other persons."

If the collective will of this convention is to allow slavery's continuation, their language does as John suggests: it shows their collective shame.

But why would anti-slavery delegates like John go along?

First, let's not overstate their numbers, they're in the minority, and second, disliking slavery does not equate being an abolitionist.

More on that later.

Meanwhile, South Carolina and Georgia threaten to walk if this convention even regulat let alone ends, slavery.

To quote South Carolina delegate Charles Pinkney on two separate occasions at this convention.

"South Carolina can never receive the plan of union" "if it prohibits the slave trade."

"South Carolina and Georgia cannot do without slaves."

His colleague John Rutledge adds, "Religion and humanity had nothing to do" "with the question."

"The true question at present" "is whether the Southern states shall or shall not" "be parties to the union."

These uncompromising tactics work.

New Yorker Alexander Hamilton, an abolitionist in the eyes of some historians, describes the three-fifths compromise as a necessary evil without which, "no union could possibly have been formed."

And Alex believes the union is crucial, that they don't stand a chance against European powers as 13 small republics.

Similarly, James Madison, one of the many founding fathers who dislikes slavery yet fails to disentangle himself from it, says, "Great as the evil is," "a dismemberment of the union would be worse."

Finally, many founders also look at the North's trend toward abolition and think slavery will peter out with a shifting economy.

But let's not speak as though this constitution is across the finish line.

Even as this convention approves the Constitution on September 15th, a question lingers.

Will the individual delegates put their names to it?

[chatter] It's Monday, September 17th, 1787.

This convention has been hard.

Locked in Philadelphia's hot, sweltering state house, disagreement has been sharp.

Some delegates have full-on rage quit.

Barely more than 40 of the summer's total 55 delegates are still here.

Alexander Hamilton is the only New Yorker left and Rhode Island never even sent a delegation.

So at this point, the choice of every man left to sign and thereby personally endorse this constitution's proposed form of union could be its making or undoing.

In this moment, elderly Benjamin Franklin wishes to say a word.

It's been 33 years since he published that "Join or Die" cartoon, published in response to the military challenges, then faced in the Ohio Valley by this convention's president, George Washington.

He's too old to speak at length, but Ben hands a written speech to his colleague, James Wilson, who proceeds to read the old Renaissance man's prepared words.

[music] "I confess that there are several parts" "of this constitution which" "I do not at present approve," "but I am not sure I shall never approve them."

"For having lived long, I have experienced many instances" "of being obliged by better information" "or fuller consideration, to change opinions" "even on important subjects."

"The older I grow, the more apt I am" "to doubt my own judgment," "and to pay more respect to the judgment of others."

"You assemble a number of men to have" "the advantage of their joint wisdom."

"You inevitably assemble with those men" "all their prejudices, their passions," "their errors of opinion," "their local interests, and their selfish views."

"From such an assembly," "can a perfect production be expected?"

"It therefore astonishes me, Sir," "to find this system approaching" "so near to perfection as it does."

"On the whole, Sir, I cannot help expressing" "a wish that every member of the Convention" "who may still have objections to it," "would with me, on this occasion" "doubt a little of his own infallibility," "and to make manifest our unanimity," "put his name to this instrument."

Nobody here thinks this proposed federal union is perfect.

Many criticisms are for opposite reasons.

William Paterson thinks the federal government is too strong.

Alexander Hamilton thinks it's too weak.

But it's closer to perfection than the Articles.

It's a more perfect union.

With only 3 refraining, the other 39 remaining delegates put their names to this instrument.

[music ends, applause] Filled with threats, shouts, and a few flying fists, the ratification process is anything but pretty.

Nearly a year after the Philly Convention, though, New Hampshire's assent makes the Constitution, the law of the land for the 9 thus-far-ratifying states.

In 1789, a federal government convenes in New York under the first President, the same untrained Virginian who fought a hopeless battle in the Ohio Valley, fought as an underdog Continental general, presided over the Constitutional Convention and now fights... severe arthritis and tooth loss.

[laughter] George Washington.

He steps down after 2 terms and is succeeded by his VP, that fiery New Englander, John Adams.

[laughter] Just some more historical sources.

[laughter] But as the young Republic moves forward, those 2 critical issues we saw at the Philly Convention, the vagueness of this union's permanency and the deepening North-South divide over slavery, are left to fester and to build off of each other.

Between 1799 and 1804, New York and New Jersey pass gradual emancipation laws.

All northern states are now in the process of ending slavery.

Meanwhile, Thomas Jefferson and James Madison are arguing that states can nullify federal laws they consider unconstitutional.

George Washington is horrified.

Tom becomes the next president.

He doubles the United States' turf with his 1803 Louisiana purchase from France's Napoleon Bonaparte.

But New England worries that this territory will just mean more slave states.

If so, Northerners, already disadvantaged by the three-fifths compromise in their federal representation, wonder: will they ever have any real say in this Union?

As the War of 1812 rages under President James Madison, some radicals in the Federalist Party call for New England to secede.

Peace comes just in time to calm these sentiments.

Meanwhile, the South's reliance on slave labor is not declining as the Constitution's framers imagined.

Even as Congress bans the transatlantic slave trade at the end of its constitutional moratorium in 1808, slavery has only become more important since Eli Whitney's invented the cotton gin.

Cotton's booming as the South's new big cash crop, and with cotton mills humming in the industrializing North and Great Britain by God, "cotton is king!"

Years pass.

[music] With Americans arguing over slavery in the Louisiana Territory, Congress comes up with the Missouri Compromise of 1820.

This keeps parity between the two camps by allowing Missouri to enter the union as a slave state and splitting Maine from Massachusetts as a new free state.

All future states in the Louisiana Territory, north of latitude 36°30█ will be free.

Those to its south, slaveholding.

This Band-Aid will hold the union together.

For now.

A decade later, in 1832, South Carolina looks to Tom Jefferson's and James Madison's old argument for states nullifying federal laws and claims it can nullify a tariff.

President Andrew Jackson isn't having it though, and things get awkward at a dinner celebrating the birthday of the now-deceased Tommy J. Andrew offers a toast.

"Our federal Union, it must be preserved!"

A son of the Palmetto state, Vice President John C. Calhoun answers with a toast of his own.

"The Union.

Next to our liberties, most dear."

This doesn't end well.

John steps down as VP to insist on the sovereignty of the states.

Andy threatens to lead an army into South Carolina, but even as this threat and a lower tariff calms South Carolina, Andy sees emboldened secessionists among proponents of slavery.

To quote him, "The tariff was only a pretext," "and disunion, and Southern confederacy the real object."

"The next pretext will be" "the negro or slavery question."

And the slavery question only grows as US territory does under President James K. Polk.

Texas joins the union in 1845; Britain and the US settle their disputed claims to Oregon Country in 1846; while war with Mexico brings the whole Southwest in 1848.

All of this new turf picks the badly mending scab right off the Missouri Compromise as Americans wonder: Will states in these territories be free or slaveholding?

Enter the Compromise of 1850.

It lets California be a free state, but permits the new territories of New Mexico and Utah to vote on slavery.

This compromise also includes a beefed-up Fugitive Slave Act, but only years later, Congress blows up what remains of the Missouri Compromise with the Kansas-Nebraska Act, which lets territories within the old Louisiana Purchase vote on slavery too.

Pro-slavery ruffians and abolitionists like John Brown are making Kansas bleed, and that august body, Congress?

Forget decorum.

South Carolina's Rep.

Preston Brooks takes his cane and bashes abolitionist Senator Charles Sumner into a bloody, barely living heap of flesh right in the Senate Chamber.

Things get more heated a year later, 1857 when the US Supreme Court hears Dred Scott's lawsuit, Dred's suing for his freedom, as many formerly enslaved Americans have after entering a free state.

But SCOTUS doesn't only say no, it says he can't sue because he isn't a citizen; he's property.

Anti-slavery Americans are outraged.

This effectively legalizes slaveholders taking enslaved Americans anywhere in the country.

If that's the case, what even is a free state?

A year after the Dred Scott decision, 1858, a gangly lawyer named Abraham Lincoln becomes the new Republican Party's nominee for US Senate in Illinois.

He squares off against the Democratic incumbent: Stephen Douglas.

For over 20 hours, across 7 showdowns, they debate the only thing on America's mind these days, slavery.

While anti-slavery Lincoln doesn't win, he makes a name for himself.

And 2 years later, he's elected President of the United States without a single Southern Electoral College vote.

[somber music] The nation is fractured.

Lincoln walks on eggshells, talking a moderate game, stating he has no intention of touching slavery where it currently exists.

But many cotton-dependent large plantation holders don't buy it.

They're ready to do what segments of this union have threatened since its beginning.

Secede.

On December 20th, 1860, months before Lincoln's presidency even begins, the same state that so loudly threatened secession 3 decades ago, South Carolina, becomes the first to do so.

Its leaders declare independence on the basis that the "non-slaveholding states" have violated the Palmetto state's rights; specifically, its right to the institution of slavery, as guaranteed by the US Constitution.

By February 1st, 1861, 6 more slaveholding states have followed suit.

A few days later, they fulfill Andrew Jackson's prophecy by proclaiming their own union, a confederacy.

These Confederate States of America, or the CSA, then assert ownership of US forts and property in the South.

That leads to a showdown between the USA and the CSA in the harbor of Charleston, South Carolina.

And here, we reach the point of no return.

[music ends] It's April 11th, 1861.

Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard, or Beauregard, [laughter] as he's often called, hates his current situation.

Last month, this 42-year-old, French-blooded Louisianan became the first and thus far only general of the newly established Confederate States of America.

Now, he's in Charleston, South Carolina, charged with making the US forces still holding onto their island fortification out in the harbor, the star-shaped, multi-level Fort Sumter, leave.

As he and his superiors see it, South Carolina seceded nearly 4 months ago.

Therefore, those US troops are violating the Palmetto state's and the CSA's sovereignty.

As such, Beauregard has orders to destroy Fort Sumter.

But he doesn't want to do it.

The commander out there, is his old West Point professor and friend, Major Robert Anderson.

Beauregard even sent Robert a box of cigars and a case of fine whiskey a few days back.

Robert refused them, but the gesture underscores the point.

Beauregard does not want this fight.

That's why he sent a few of his aides to the island fort this afternoon with generous terms.

If Robert and his men agree to leave Fort Sumter, Beauregard will not only permit it, but provide support.

They can even salute the Stars and Stripes as they lower it.

But how will the major respond?

[rowing, music] Well, Beauregard's aides are returning to Charleston's shore right now.

Let's see what they've got.

The three aides give their repor it's a "no."

Robert and his men can't forget their honor as soldiers.

That means Beauregard has to attack.

But the trio also report that as they were getting back into their boat, the Kentucky-born US major casually stated, "If you do not batter us to pieces," "we shall be starved out in a few days."

Wait, that's something.

If Robert's troops at Fort Sumter are nearly starved out, maybe they'll be forced to leave before President Lincoln's promised provisions arrive.

[tense music] Beauregard telegraphs this news to Confederate Secretary of War, LeRoy Walker.

LeRoy soon responds: If Robert will provide a promised time and date by which he and his men will leave, and further, if they promise not to fire on Confederate forces, Beauregard does not have to attack.

Okay then, joined by the recently resigned US Congressman from Virginia, Rodger Pryor, our small group of messengers row the 4 or so miles back out to Fort Sumter.

Bearing a white flag, they arrive at the fort after midnight.

Former Congressman Pryor stays in the boat as the 3 official Confederates proceed to deliver Beauregard's last effort to spare bombardment.

Robert confers with his officers It's a heavy decision.

Their choice could start or avoid or at least defer civil war.

The US officers talk for hours, finally giving an answer to the Confederate messengers at 3:00 am.

Out of food, they will leave in 3 and a 1/2 days at 12 noon, April 15th.

Okay, that works, but here's where things get sticky.

Robert and his men agree they will not fire on Confederates first, but if Beauregard's forces fire on them or anything American, in other words, those en route, peaceful supply ships that could arrive before April 15th, they will return fire.

[music ends] The 3 messengers confer and agree.

They don't have the authority to accept Robert's counteroffer.

Despite Beauregard's last attempt, the attack will have to move forward.

In the gentlemanly fashion of 19th century warfare, one messenger, James Chestnut, forewarns the US major, bombardment will begin in 1 hour.

Robert looks at his pocket watch: 3:20 am.

"I understand you, sir, then that your battery will open" "in an hour from this time."

James responds, "Yes, sir, in 1 hour."

The loyal Unionist, Robert, walks the 3 Confederates, his fellow Southerners, back to their boat.

He shakes each one of their hands as they stand in the dark morning's light rain.

"If we never meet in this world again," "God grant that we may in the next."

With that, they part ways.

The messengers don't return immediately to Charleston.

First, they must initiate the attack plan.

They row just over a mile to the west, to James Island's Fort Johnson and awaken battery commander Captain George S. James.

He's ordered to fire at exactly 4:30.

George snaps into action and has the guns prepared by 4:15.

He then offers long-time Congressman Pryor the honor of firing.

"No," the former Congressman replies, physically shaking.

"I could not fire the first gun of the war."

Right, because it's one thing to talk secession.

[music] But firing on your countrymen, that's another.

He and his 3 officially Confederate companions return to their boat, and push off for Charleston.

[dramatic music] George looks at his pocket watch, awaiting 4:30 am sharp.

“Fire.” [cannon shot] [dramatic violin] The mortar shell flashes brilliantly as it cuts across the still dark sky, then explodes in flashes of orange and red right above Fort Sumter.

And that's it.

That's the signal.

Confederate batteries on all sides of the fort open fire.

Alas, after decades of compromises and buildup... civil war has begun.

[drumroll, music ends] [cannonfire, whistling shells] [soft somber music] [music swells] ["Battle Cry of Freedom" by George Frederick Root] [rousing music] [guitar] [marching drums] [brass fanfare] ♪ We'll rally round the flag, boys, ♪ ♪ we'll rally once again, ♪ ♪ Shouting the battle cry of freedom, ♪ ♪ We will rally from the hillside, ♪ ♪ we'll gather from the plain, ♪ ♪ Shouting the battle cry of freedom.

♪ ♪ The Union forever, hurrah!

boys, hurrah!

♪ ♪ Down with the traitors, up with the stars; ♪ ♪ While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again.

♪ ♪ Shouting the battle cry of freedom.

♪ ♪ So we're springing to the call, ♪ ♪ From the East and from the West, ♪ ♪ Shouting the battle cry of freedom.

♪ ♪ And we'll hurl the Rebel crew ♪ ♪ from the land that we love best, ♪ ♪ Shouting the battle cry of freedom.

♪ ♪ The Union forever, hurrah!

boys, hurrah!

♪ ♪ Down with the traitors, up with the stars; ♪ ♪ While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again.

♪ ♪ Shouting the battle cry, ♪ ♪ Shouting the battle cry of freedom.

♪ [drum march] [music ends] [applause] Northerners thought this would be an easy war.

They learn otherwise, 2 months after the bombardment of Fort Sumter.

As Confederate General Thomas Jackson picks up the nickname "Stonewall," and the terrifying "Rebel yell" psychs out fleeing Union troops near Virginia's Bull Run River and Manassas Railroad Junction.

This Confederate victory leaves 5,000 casualties.

It's the greatest effusion of American blood in a single day in history thus far.

A macabre record that will soon be shattered.

Seems the CSA has more punch than the Union thought.

Hoping for better results, President Lincoln replaces the US Army's aging, War of 1812█veteran, Commanding General Winfield Scott, with the young, handsome... mustachioed, [laughter] George McClellan.

But George, a.k.a.

"Young Napoleon," or "Little Mac," [laughter] can't break the gory stalemate.

Seems his book smarts and strategy don't translate to real life as he wants perfection and always overestimates the strength of his foe.

Conversely, a silver-haired and bearded Virginian, Confederate General Robert E. Lee, or just "Bobby" to his friends, is proving he can be aggressive.

Roughly a year and a half after Fort Sumter, September 1862, he pushes north into Maryland.

But a wrinkle develops when a Confederate officer uses Bobby's battle plans to wrap some cigars and carelessly forgets them at an abandoned camp.

Good help is so hard to find these days.

Two Union soldiers find the tobacco-laden intel.

Thus armed, even the ever-cautious Little Mac is ready for a fight.

His massive army of the Potomac and Bobby's army of Northern Virginia clash only days later outside the Maryland hamlet of Sharpsburg at Antietam Creek.

[drums, soldiers marching] It's dawn, September 17, 1862.

Ever at the front, the aggressive Union General Joseph "Fightin' Joe" Hooker leads his first corps into a cornfield to engage Confederate forces led by the pious and fearless General Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson.

[battle sounds] Shot and shell mow down 6█8 foot tall cornstalks and thousands of men.

Blood waters the decimated crops as both sides receive reinforcements.

The boys in blue take this small patch of earth by the morning's end, but "Fightin' Joe" will later sa that he had never before seen "a more bloody, dismal battlefield."

[shouts, battle cries] As others bleed and die in the West Woods, 10,000 Federals move on 3,000 Confederates holding a road so worn and sunken, it serves as an impromptu trench.

The gray-clad infantry fire, then pass their rifles back as newly loaded guns are handed forward.

It's a brilliant tactic.

One seasoned Ohio soldier will later describe it as "systematic killing."

[music] Nonetheless, the Yanks have the numbers, and as the hours pass, the rebels begin to crack.

Endless lines of Union troops overwhelm this sunken road.

Bodies pile so high, and so thic one Georgian will later say that "while retreating, I could scarcely extricate myself" "from the dead and wounded around me."

[somber music] And in taking the sunken road, the Federals have broken the Confederate center, but rather than seize this opportunity by bringing in reserves, careful, cautious, Little Mac hedges.

He's sure that Bobby Lee has thousands just waiting in the wings for the right moment to join the battle, but he's wrong!

And it's an opportunity blown.

[music ends, battle sounds] That afternoon, Union General, and I kid you not, the actual namesake of the past-the-ears facial hair known as sideburns, Ambrose Burnside, hits the Confederates from the south at a thin bridge.

The dead and wounded splash into the creek, as Confederate General Robert A. Toomes detains the late-to-arrive Burnside for several hours.

Bobby Lee is in trouble.

His saving grace comes in the form of General A.P.

Hill, who just arrived with 5,000 fresh reinforcements.

It isn't enough to win, but their numbers are enough to avoid a total rout.

The Army of Northern Virginia will live to fight another day.

Makeshift field hospitals line both sides by the battle's end.

300 horse-drawn carts from the Union's new ambulance corps move tirelessly to retrieve countless mangled soldiers before they die from blood loss or simple exposure.

Yet to learn of or embrace this newly developing “germ theory,” doctors wield unsanitized saws as they move from one man to the next, cutting off shattered limbs.

[dramatic music, moaning] But amid the wrath and tears, countless women are providing first aid.

They're creating a whole new profession: "nursing," and heroes, like Clara Barton.

The dark-haired Massachusetts woman got her baptism by fire today, cutting out a bullet lodged in a soldier's face and nearly taking a bullet herself; it narrowly missed her, killing a patient instead.

But Clara reports her day takes a truly curious twist when one soldier turns out to be a teenage girl.

Desperate not to be separated from her boyfriend, Mary Galloway dressed as a man and enlisted in his regiment.

Clara treats Mary, and reunites the young lovers at a hospital.

The veteran couple will later name their daughter, Clara, in her honor.

Today and throughout the war, Clara's grit, organization, and leadership in chaotic war hospitals will save so many countless lives, she's soon dubbed the angel of the battlefield.

Yet, all the doctors and nurses in the world can't change the fact that the sun sets on a grisly scene.

Across the cornfield, the West Woods, the Burnside Bridge, and the Sunken Road or the "Bloody Lane," at least 3,650 men clad in blue and gray, but caked in red, lie dead.

Wounded and missing run the casualties up to more than 22,000 for this single day, known as Antietam in the North, and Sharpsburg in the South.

Today's battle leaves almost 3 times the American casualties that World War II's D-Day will almost a century later.

Even in our 21st century, this September 17th, 1862 battle will remain the bloodiest day in American history.

And by God, may we hope that record never is broken.

But the blood tainting Antietam Creek isn't in vain.

It will change the entire framing of this war.

[music ends] Here's the deal.

From decades of congressional compromises, to recent state secession declarations, we've seen how central the slavery question is to the Civil War.

But even after more than a year of devastating death and destruction, most Americans, apart from abolitionists, and the nearly 4 million enslaved in the CSA and the USA's remaining border states, don't want to talk about that.

Most prefer to frame this war only as a question of the Union's preservation.

Tell you what, let's break down our current political groups and see where each stands on slavery, its continuation or end and importance in the war.

Starting with the Union, the Democrats really have zero interest in ending slavery.

One of the party's factions, the "Peace Democrats" or "Copperheads" as others disparagingly call them, adamantly oppose the war and would happily reconcile without touching slavery.

The other faction, the "War Democrats," support fighting secession but are unconcerned with ending slavery.

This describes none other than General George McClellan, who says he wouldn't even fight for such a cause: "I will never be an abolitionist," "but I do think some of the rights of humanity" "ought to be secured to the negroes."

"There should be no power to separate families," "and the right of marriage ought to be secured to them..." "I will not fight for the abolitionists."

Wow.

And to think, that guy was the commander of the whole US Army.

Now, Republicans are anti-slavery, absolutely, but anti-slavery includes moderates who focus on preventing slavery from spreading to new territories or states, while hoping the institution will yet die in the South.

Only abolitionists are talking about ending slavery everywhere.

This position is considered so extreme, Republicans in this camp are known as, Radical Republicans.

And while we're breaking down political groups, let's not forget the CSA.

Not all Southerners agree with secession, and these "Unionists" as they're known, play crucial roles in the war.

They include the Union's finest admiral, Tennessean David Farragut, and a Virginian whose family disowns him for standing with the Stars and Stripes, George "The Rock of Chickamauga" Thomas.

In some cases, Unionist numbers are sufficiently concentrated to secede from a seceded state.

That's how we get West Virginia in 1863, and Newton Knight's short-lived mixed-race community in Mississippi.

And now, with that background, [music ends] you can appreciate what it means when I say, President Lincoln is anti-slavery.

He doesn't enter the White House an abolitionist.

Far too radical of a position to ever get elected as president.

But as the war wears on, the gangly railsplitter is increasingly thinking, real victory requires not tiptoeing around, but attacking slavery.

I'm going to quote Lincoln but since I like to lean into the voice of historical figures as best or where I can, let me calibrate your ears first.

We tend to imagine Lincoln with a deep, powerful voice, but that's a lie about old Honest Abe.

Journalist Horace White tells us that Lincoln has, quote, "a thin tenor," "or rather falsetto, voice," "almost as high-pitched as a boatswain's whistle."

You know what a boatswain's whistle sounds like?

[piccolo high notes, laughter] Yeah.

Lincoln's up here.

Others call his voice "shrill," "sharp," and "unpleasant;" and I do believe that fits with what I just did.

[laughter] Now that you're properly prepared, Navy Secretary Gideon Wells recalls Lincoln telling him and Secretary of State William Henry Seward in July, 1862, "The Rebels [do] not cease to persist on their war," "on the government and the union."

"[I have] dwelt earnestly on the gravity" "importance and delicacy" "of the movement ... and [have] come" "to the conclusion that it [is] a military necessity" "absolutely essential for the salvation of the Union."

"We must free the slaves or be ourselves subdued."

A great conclusion.

But Lincoln's shrewd.

He knows issuing an executive order to this effect while the CSA is mopping up his boys in blue would look weak, desperate.

That might just push the border states to join the CSA or his numerous War Democrat officers and soldiers to desert.

Lincoln needs a victory before he acts.

Now the Battle of Antietam or Sharpsburg isn't the resounding victory he wanted.

In fact, Lincoln's so tired of Little Mac's hesitancy, he's firing him.

But it's enough of a win for him to act.

[music] Five days after the battle, September 22nd, 1862, Lincoln issues an executive order stating, "All persons held as slaves within any State," "or designated part of a State, the people whereof" "shall then be in rebellion against the United States" "shall be then, thenceforward, and forever..." "free."

[dramatic music] This Emancipation Proclamation gives seceded states until January 1st, 1863 to comply.

None will.

A bold move.

Surely, abolitionists are stoked about this Emancipation Proclamation.

No.

Many are disappointed that this only applies to the rebellious states, thus exempting the slaveholding border states.

Further, what good is saying people are free in territory you don't control?

Frederick Douglass has an answer for his fellow, but critical abolitionists.

Now, you should know that Frederick's a fighter.

Born enslaved, he beat up his own enslaver and later seized freedom by absconding to the North.

Basically, this man has no fear.

Frederick writes this in his newspaper: [music builds] "The Proclamation of President Lincoln" "is the first chapter of a new history."

"The object of the Government is no longer to preserve," "but to destroy slavery," "no longer to recapture fugitive slaves," "but to set them at Liberty," "no longer to prevent slaves from rising" "against their cruel masters," "but see that nothing is done for such prevention."

[music ends] Frederick sees what Lincoln sees.

The Emancipation Proclamation will free forever any enslaved person that the Union army can reach.

Further, and listen up, because this is huge: it changes US war aims.

This war is no longer just about preserving the Union.

That objective is now coupled with ending slavery.

The Emancipation Proclamation also allows Black men to join the US army.

Frederick Douglass had been calling for this for quite some time.

He pointed out the irony of this former ban last year.

"Colored men were good enough" "to fight under Washington."

"They are not good enough to fight under McClellan."

"They were good enough to fight under Andrew Jackson."

"They are not good enough to fight under General Halleck."

"They were good enough to help" "win American independence,” "but they are not good enough" "to help preserve” "that independence" "against treason and rebellion."

But, as so many War Democrats desert that the rising star, cigar chain-smoking General out west, Ulysses S. Grant or just "Ulyss" as his friends know him has to dissolve two south Illinois regiments; As the Union, like the CSA, relies so heavily on conscription that the working class dubbed this "a rich man's war [and a] poor man's fight;" Frederick Douglass can't fathom why Black troops are receiving less pay and fewer opportunities than white troops.

And so, as the summer of '63 wanes on, Frederick decides to do something utterly unprecedented for a Black man.

He'll seek an audience with the President of the United States.

It's August 10th, 1863.

The wide stairway leading up to second floor of the White House is packed with would-be visitors, seeking an audience with President Lincoln.

Now Lincoln's very accessible as presidents go.

He's a people person.

Humble.

Happy to shake a hand, hear somebody's story, and definitely tell a few of his own.

The Illinois railsplitter sees as many visitors as he can, including average citizens.

Nonetheless, he is the president.

His time is limited.

Some have been waiting in this stairway for hours.

Others days.

Some will wait in vain.

A new face now joins the stairway of hopefuls.

It's his first time at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

In fact, it's his first time in Washington City, period.

This is the great civil rights champion, Frederick Douglass.

Accompanied here by Senator Samuel Pomeroy, Frederick presses through the mass of hopefuls and presents his card to the President's attendant.

He's keenly aware his chances of seeing Lincoln are slim.

Honestly, he can't help but wonder, will the President really receive... a Black man?

Frederick figures he'll be at the bottom of the list.

The famed orator takes note of the crowd.

"They were white, and as I was the only dark spot among them;" "I expected to have to wait at least half a day."

So you can imagine his surprise at only waiting 2 minutes before the President's attendant calls out: "Mr.

Douglass" Shocked, Frederick ascends the stairs.

He overhears someone complain, "Yes, damn it, I knew they'd" "let the (...) through."

Frederick doesn't let it bother him.

He's made of stern stuff, and has been through far worse.

He'll later joke that the man must have been a Peace Democrat.

[laughter, music] Now on the second floor, Frederick is ushered into the President's office, or as Lincoln prefers to call it, "his shop."

And as Frederick walks in, he sees him.

Seated and reading with his gangly legs stretched out is President Lincoln.

"Mr.

Douglass I know you;" "I have read about you," "and Mr.

Seward has told me about you," Lincoln says, his long body towering as he stands and extends a welcoming handshake.

Frederick is shocked at the warmth, patriotism, and sincerity he feels from Lincoln.

Still, to business.

Frederick's been recruiting Black troops to the army, but has major concerns at this point.

One is how slowly the President responded to the Confederate Congress█ ordinance, quote, “dooming to death or slavery every negro taken in arms” "and every white officer who commands negro troops."

close quote.

Lincoln ultimately issued an order of retaliation which states that, "for every soldier of the United States killed" "in violation of the laws of war," "a rebel soldier shall be executed;" "and for every one enslaved by the enemy" "or sold into slavery," "a rebel soldier shall be placed at hard labor."

But why did it take so long?

Further, why are Black soldiers being paid less than white soldiers, and why are there only white officers?

Honest Abe doesn't hedge or skirt Frederick's questions one bit.

He bluntly tells his famous visitor a sad truth; America's prejudice against Black people is so ardent, it had to soften somewhat before he could make the Order of Retaliation.

That's why he waited until Black troops had proven themselves on the battlefield.

[inspiring music] "Remember this, Mr.

Douglass;" "remember that Milliken█s Bend," "Port Hudson and Fort Wagner are recent events," he says, referencing 3 battles in which Black soldiers fought with as much if not more skill and bravery as white soldiers.

[strings] These battles prepared white Americans to stand up for Black troops, Lincoln explains, but had he moved quicker: "all the hatred which is poured on the negro race" "would have been visited on [my] administration."

Frederick might be considered radical, but he's shrewd too.

He understands the ugly reality that the commander-in-chief has put before him.

He considers the answer reasonable.

What about the issue of pay though?

Again Lincoln's honesty is refreshing.

Without dodging at all, he agrees this is flat out unjust, but sadly, getting Black troops in uniform at all is a huge hurdle for Congress, let alone equal pay.

Still, he plans to make it right in the long run.

"In the end," "they shall have the same pay as white soldiers."

Lincoln reassures.

How about officer commissions?

"I will sign any commission to colored soldiers" "whom my Secretary of War [commends to me]," The gangly president responds.

Now that's significant.

Frederick met Lincoln's Secretary of War Edwin Stanton a.k.a.

"Mars," the God of War right before coming to see the president and Mars brought up the idea of commissioning him, Frederick, as an assistant adjutant general, right then and there.

Clearly then, this is a meaningful promise.

Frederick leaves elated.

Lincoln did receive him, a Black and treated him like any other man.

Frederick will rhetorically ask a crowd in December: "Perhaps you may like to know how the" "President of the United States received a black man" "at the White House."

"I will tell you how he received me—" "just as you have seen one gentleman receive another;" "with a hand and a voice" "well-balanced between a kind cordiality" "and a respectful reserve."

"I tell you, I felt big there."

[music ends] Not a bad first meeting between the self-emancipated Frederick and the Great Emancipator.

And Black Americans will join up and fight.

Nearly 200,000 will don Union blue and participate in 449 military engagements.

The growing number of Black soldiers isn't the only boon the Union sees in the summer of 1863.

It picks up 2 crucial wins.

First is Bobby Lee's July 1█3 defeat at the sleepy Pennsylvania farm town of Gettysburg.

The costs are staggering: 50,000 casualties.

The second comes a day later, the 4th of July, as Ulyss Grant takes Vicksburg, Mississippi.

This puts the whole Mississippi River under union control and cuts the CSA in half.

Ulyss' victory also cements his reputation as an indomitable commander, meaning Lincoln will turn to the cigar-chewing general even more as we enter the election year of 1864.

Consider this for a moment: it's been over 3 decades since America reelected a president to a second term.

[music] So Lincoln may be the incumbent, but that won't keep the lanky transplant to Illinois in the White House.

He needs to keep this forward momentum.

[soulful music] Thus in March of that year, Lincoln hands control of the Union forces to 20-cigars-a-day Ulyss.

Yet, as the year moves forward and hard fighting continues, Lincoln's reelection looks doubtful.

Radical Republicans are considering breaking to run their own candidate, while the Democrats have the perfect challenger: The very US Army commander whom Lincoln fired after Antietam, or Sharpsburg, War Democrat George "Little Mac" McClellan.

He's a formidable opponent.

See, many are sick of the war and hate that Lincoln won't compromise on union or slavery.

On the other hand, Little Mac is willing to negotiate with CSA president Jefferson Davis.

So Lincoln's sure he's toast.

He tells his friend General Schuyler Hamilton, "I'm going to be beaten," "and unless some great changes take place," "badly beaten."

[drumroll, trumpet] But some great changes do take place between August and the election.

David Farragut damns the torpedoes at Mobile Bay.

Phil Sheridan goes scorched earth and wins against Jubal Early in the Shenandoah.

William Tecumpseh Sherman crushes Atlanta, and prepares to march to the sea.

These were the victories Lincoln needed.

To his absolute shock, Lincoln's refusal to cave on union and his support for a 13th amendment to make slavery unconstitutional haven't cost him the election.

Lincoln wins!

[music ends] It's March 4th 1865.

We're in Washington City, at the US Capitol's east front for Lincoln's second presidential inauguration.

And what a sight it is to see.

The Capitol Building is gorgeous.

No scaffolding encloses an under-construction dome as was the case at Lincoln's first inauguration.

Now, the eye is drawn up to the nearly 20-foot-tall bronze Statue of Freedom as she stands atop the building's long-labored-over dome.

Beneath this is the east front's columned portico, and of course, the long staircase leading up to the Capitol.

A temporary platform has made these stairs a stage.

This is where the ceremony will take place.

50,000 excited Americans, including Frederick Douglass, watch as their bearded, gangly executive walks to the platform's front.

In what seems an act of the divine, the clouds part and the sun shines down just as the sergeant-at-arms silences the audience so that their president may deliver his second inaugural address.

Lincoln doesn't exult over the Union's victories and likely preservation.

Instead, he speaks plainly of the role slavery has played in the war.

But he doesn't lay all the blame on the South though.

Rather, Lincoln also notes Northern, or at least federal, willingness to abide its existence, even calling the war a just punishment from God for 250 years of American slavery, from the colonial era to the present.

But he will let God do the judging.

Lincoln ends by calling for reconciliation, forgiveness, healing.

And he bellows this out, in his unique high-pitched voice.

[soft music] "Fellow Country-men:" "on the occasion corresponding to this" "four years ago" "all thoughts were anxiously directed" "to an impending civil war."

"All dreaded it, all sought to avert it."

"Slaves constituted a peculiar and powerful interest."

"All knew that this interest" "was somehow the cause of the war."

"To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend this interest" "was the object for which" "the insurgents would rend the Union" "even by war," "while the Government claimed no right" "to do more than to restrict" "the territorial enlargement of it."

[emotional music] "Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray" "that this mighty scourge of war" "may speedily pass away."

"Yet if God wills that it continue" "until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's" "250 years of unrequited toil shall be sunk," "and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash" "shall be paid by another drawn with the sword," "so still it must be said" "the judgments of the Lord are true" "and righteous altogether."

"With malice toward none, with charity for all," "with firmness in the right" "as God gives us to see the right," "let us strive on to finish the work we are in," "to bind up the nation's wounds," "to care for him who shall have borne the battle" "and for his widow and his orphan," "to do all which may achieve and cherish" "a just and lasting peace among ourselves" "and with all nations."

[inspiring music] Though generally well received, some, especially Copperheads, or Peace Democrats, don't love the speech.

It's a bit too honest, but that's what you get with Honest Abe.

The speech concluded, Chief Justice Salmon Chase administers the oath of office.

The people cheer, the band strikes up, and cannons fire salutes.

[music ends] That evening, a public reception is held at the White House.

Black Americans have never attended such an event before as guests, but Frederick Douglass was so moved by that honest speech.

He wants to compliment his, dare he say, friend?

The President.

Besides, do Black men not fight in the army now?

Is slavery not ending with a 13th constitutional amendment in the works?

He makes the trek to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

[door creaks open] As he enters, 2 guards roughly seize him and push him away.

"Stand back!"

they yell, claiming they have orders not to admit people of Frederick's color.

Frederick doesn't believe them.

"There must be some mistake," "for no such order could have" "emanated from President Lincoln."

The guards still refuse him.

At this point, another man entering recognizes the famed abolitionist.

Frederick asks him to tell Lincoln of his predicament.

The gentleman does so, and within minutes, the guards, who never received such orders, are forced to let Frederick in the White House.

[chattering crowd] Hundreds of well-wishers and handshakers throng Lincoln in the East Room.

How many, I wonder, agree with the guards and think a Black man like Frederick has no place here.

Lincoln doesn't stop to think about those political considerations.

The moment he sees Frederick in the reception line, the Illinois railsplitter calls out, letting all in the loud, boisterous room hear him: "Here comes my friend, Douglass!"

"I'm glad to see you," the gangly president tells Frederick as he shakes his hand.

"I saw you in the crowd today," "listening to my inaugural address."

"How did you like it?"

"Mr.

Lincoln, I must not detain you" "when there are thousands waiting" "to shake hands with you."

"No, no!"

"You must stop a little, Douglass."

"There's no man in the country" "whose opinion I value more than yours."

"I want to know what you think of it."

"Mr.

Lincoln, that was a sacred effort."

"I'm glad you liked it."

[crowd noise fades] Frederick feels immensely honored as he walks away from Lincoln's reception line.

Truly, President Abraham Lincoln is his friend.

And so, it's gut-wrenching to think that, within a matter of weeks, Frederick will be eulogizing his murdered friend, the assassinated president.

But that's not our story.

I agree with Frederick.

That speech was a sacred effort.

I love Lincoln's call to bind up the nation: "With malice toward none, with charity for all."

It's only a month after this very speech that Ulyss Grant's and Bobby Lee's 9-month-long and ever-so-deadly Petersburg campaign in Virginia proves a Union victory.

Out of supplies, Bobby is simply out of choices.

Ulyss has him by the throat.

And so, what will Ulyss, or "Unconditional Surrender" Grant, as he's also known, do, as he accepts the surrender of the Confederacy's famed silver-haired General?

Will he live up to his austere nickname?

Or will he heed Lincoln's call for charity?

[music, horses trotting] It's Palm Sunday, April 9, 1865.

General Ulysses S. Grant and a few officers ride along a dirt road in the quaint hamlet of Appomattox Court House.

But they aren't headed to the town's namesake building.

No, they are riding to its other impressive structure, the McLean House.

Wilmer McLean bought this charming, 3-story-tall red-brick home with white trim windows and an expansive porch a few years back, after his previous residence became the battlefield for First Bull Run, or Manassas.

The poor guy wanted to avoid the fighting.

How ironic, or perhaps appropriate.

If all goes well today, his parlor is where the war will effectively end.

The party of Union leaders makes it to the McLean home at 1:30 pm.

[music ends] Tying off his horse, Ulysses ascends the wide wooden stairs leading to the front door alone.

Stepping inside the parlor, the Union commander is greeted by a few officers, and then he sees him; the man with whom Ulyss hopes to start the peace process, Confederate General Robert E. Lee.

The 2 commanders could not contrast more starkly.

At 58 years old, the white-bearded, blue-blooded Confederate is dressed in an impeccable gray uniform with a silk sash and dress sword.

He stands tall and elegant.

Meanwhile, the 42-year-old dark bearded US commander wears a dirty Union blue uniform and mud-caked boots.

No sword.

Only his shoulder straps indicate his rank of Lieutenant general.

Both men apologize to the other: The one for having nothing suitable apart from this new uniform; the other for wearing such "rough garb."

Ulyss introduces still other Union leaders and tries to make small talk.

"I met you once before, General Lee," "while we were serving in Mexico" "when you came over from General Scott's headquarters" "to visit Garland's brigade."

To the Ohioan's surprise, Bobby claims to remember him as well.

We've all been there.

Bobby Lee also expresses his thanks to Lawrence Williams.

The federal general sent him a message this morning, informing Bobby that his Confederate son, Custis Lee, was not killed in battle a few days ago as feared.

[music] But good as that news is, Bobby has no interest in dragging this out.

He's sick at the thought of what must be done and would rather dispense with the pleasantries.

[somber strings] "I suppose, General Grant, that the object" "of our present meeting is fully understood."

"I asked to see you to ascertain upon what terms" "you'd accept the surrender of my army."

The US Army General-in-Chief understands.

He'll later note in his memoirs the sympathy he's feeling for Bobby Lee in this moment.

"I felt like anything rather than rejoicing" "at the downfall of a foe" "who had fought so long and valiantly," "and had suffered so much for a cause," "though the cause was, I believe," "one of the worst for which people ever fought."

[somber music] Ulysses can see the pain hiding behind the white beard and brown eyes.

Ulyss answers, "I mean [merely] that [your] army should" "lay down their arms, not to take them up again" "during the continuance of the war" "unless duly and properly exchanged."

"Those are about the conditions" "which I expected would be proposed."

Ulysses starts to wax eloquent on peace, on an end to this fight, an end to the needless loss of life.

Once more, Bobby points him to the task at hand.

"I presume, General Grant, we have both" "carefully considered the proper steps to be taken."

"I would suggest that you commit to writing the terms" "you have promised so that they may be" "formally acted upon."

"Very well.

I will write them out."

Ulyss' aide-de-camp Colonel Ely Parker, brings his cigar-chewing commander the small oval table.

Ulyss writes away as he chews at his cigar.

Once done, he hands it to Bobby.

Putting on his spectacles, the older Virginian can hardly believe what he's reading.

General Grant is offering him and his army protection from being prosecuted for treason.

His officers can even keep their sidearms.

His men, their horses.

The generosity is astounding.

These are not the terms of a conqueror.

These are the terms of one who wishes to heal a nation.

Bobby looks up and replies: "That will have a very happy effect."

[music ends] After some small edits to the original draft's language, Colonel Ely Parker puts his gifted penmanship to task and writes up the terms.

It's completed.

Though the ceremony will take place 3 days from now, Bobby Lee has surrendered the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia.

He makes the obligatory rounds, acknowledging each of Ulysses' officers.

But pauses as he comes to Ely Parker, you know, the man who just penned the terms of surrender.

Bobby looks mortified as he takes in the well-built man's black hair and dark complexion.

Is Ely Black?

[inspiring music] No, he's Senecan.

In fact, he's a grand sachem of the Iroquois League.

Bobby seems to relax a little as he realizes Ely is Indigenous "I'm glad to see one real American here," Bobby says as they shake hands.

Ely's response could not be more profound.

Speaking as an Indigenous American at the end of a war with still unknown ramifications on American identity, he answers the gray-clad general "We are all Americans."

[music swells] [applause] [applause, music ends] [applause] 13 disparate, distinct, unattached-to-each-other British colonies.

So jealous of their sovereignty.

So different in population, geographical size, climate, economy, and views.

No one, not even Ben "Join or Die" Franklin, could have imagined the political flame that would blaze after that young Virginian fired a volley in the backwoods of 1750s America.

Yet, blaze it did.

Like an inferno.

This nation's story, its high-minded origin, its endurance, its distressing second baptism in the blood of as many as 750,000 dead Americans, and as many more wounded or missing, it's remarkable.

And easy to see how we can fall into a simple, heroic narrative.

But placing the founders or their most significant successors on pedestals isn't only bad history, it's unfair.

Unfair to those who suffered most as a result of their failures.

Unfair to the founders as we expect them to transcend the deep range of failings to which we humans are subject.

And it's unfair to us.

Seeing them as gods sets us up for overwhelming letdown when we learn of their fallibilities.

And that leaves us with demons.

Personally, I like seeing the cracks, all the wrinkles, all the frayed edges.

I find it inspiring.

Because, if our imperfect founders could press through their political fissures and shortcomings to create a nation, a union, that aspired to a greatness exceeding their own; and if their successors could do likewise and just move us to a better place; then it makes me think that even today's imperfect Americans, myself, everyone in this theater and beyond, from sea to shining sea, that we can see ourselves through our own, no worse than so many past turbulent times.

And that, as Ben Franklin said of his fellow Philadelphia convention delegates, we too can assemble our joint wisdom, and yet, despite our prejudices, [music] [music] passions, errors of opinion, local interests, and selfish views, leave the next generation a better union.

Still imperfect to be sure, but just a tad more perfect.

So I'm not interested in a two-dimensional history of gods or demons.

I want a three-dimensional one, with flawed, relatable mortals.

A history that reminds me [music builds] what a miracle [music builds] our unlikely union is.

and a history that reminds me, we are stronger when we remember that we are all Americans!

And that, to me, that's a story worth telling.

[applause] [rousing music] [brass] Thank you so much!

[applause] [music] [triumphal music] [triumphal music, guitars] [music crescendo] [music ends, chime] [applause, cheers] [music, brass and drum fanfare] ♪ We'll rally round the flag, boys, ♪ ♪ we'll rally once again, ♪ ♪ Shouting the battle cry of freedom, ♪ ♪ We will rally from the hillside, ♪ ♪ we'll gather from the plain, ♪ ♪ Shouting the battle cry of freedom.

♪ ♪ The Union forever, hurrah!

boys, hurrah!

♪ ♪ Down with the traitor, up with the stars; ♪ ♪ While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again.

♪ ♪ Shouting the battle cry of freedom.

♪ ♪ So we're springing to the call, ♪ ♪ From the East and from the Wes ♪ Shouting the battle cry of freedom.

♪ ♪ And we'll hurl the Rebel crew ♪ from the land that we love bes ♪ Shouting the battle cry of freedom.

♪ ♪ The Union forever, hurrah!

boys, hurrah!

♪ ♪ Down with the traitors, up with the stars; ♪ ♪ While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again.

♪ ♪ Shouting the battle cry, ♪ ♪ Shouting the battle cry of freedom.

♪ [cheering, applause] [applause] [applause, whistling] [cheers, “Greg, go Greg”] [applause, whistling] [applause] [applause]