He read the appeal addressed to Governor Shepley by the “free men of color” in New Orleans, asking to be allowed to “register and vote.” They reminded him of their defense of New Orleans against the British under General Jackson, and declared their present loyalty to the Union. In March he wrote the following letter to the newly elected Governor Hahn: EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON March 13, 1864 _Honorable Michael Hahn_ MY DEAR SIR: In congratulating you on having fixed your name in history as the first Free State Governor of Louisiana, now you are about to have a convention which, among other things, will probably define the elective franchise, I barely suggest, for your private consideration, whether some of the colored people may not be let on, as for instance, the very intelligent, and especially those who have fought gallantly in our ranks. They would probably help in some trying time in the future to keep the jewel of Liberty in the family of freedom. But this is only suggestion, not to the public, but to you alone. Truly yours, A. LINCOLN[20] Long afterward Douglass wondered if it was some awful presentiment that made his heart so heavy on the second Inauguration Day. Abraham Lincoln’s voice lacked the resonance and liquid sweetness with which men stirred vast audiences. He spoke slowly, carefully, as if each word were a gift of himself to them--his last words to his people. “With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive 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 orphans, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.” A blackness engulfed Douglass for a time. He was unconscious of having pushed forward. The ceremonies over, there was jostling and movement all around him. Then over the heads of all the crowd, he saw President Lincoln looking at him--he saw his face light up with a smile of welcome. Douglass started toward him when he was stopped by something else. Andrew Johnson, the Vice-President, stood beside Lincoln. “Mr. Lincoln touched Mr. Johnson and pointed me out to him,” Douglass wrote, describing the incident. “The first expression which came to his face, and which I think was the true index of his heart, was one of bitter contempt and aversion. Seeing that I observed him, he tried to assume a more friendly appearance, but it was too late; it is useless to close the door when all within has been seen. His first glance was the frown of the man; the second was the bland and sickly smile of the demagogue.”[21]