“This is not a white man’s Government, in the exclusive sense in which it is said. To say so is political blasphemy, for it violates the fundamental principles of our gospel of liberty. This is Man’s Government, the Government of all men alike; not that all men will have equal power and sway within it. Accidental circumstances, natural and acquired endowment and ability, will vary their fortunes. But equal rights to all the privileges of the Government is innate in every immortal being, no matter what the shape or color of the tabernacle which it inhabits. Our fathers repudiated the whole doctrine of the legal superiority of families or races, and proclaimed the equality of men before the law. Upon that they created a revolution and built the Republic.”[26] Thaddeus Stevens arranged the papers in a neat pile, straightened his wig and stood up. Then he took down his overcoat from the rack and put it on. His feet echoed in the dim, empty corridor. A Negro attendant in the lobby saw him coming. The dark face lit up with a smile and his greeting sang like a tiny hymn. “Good mawnin’, Mistah Stevens--_Good_ mawnin’ to you, sah!” And Thaddeus Stevens did not feel the chill in the air as he walked down the steps and out into the wet, gray dawn. * * * * * “The war is not over!” Douglass said grimly to his son Lewis. “The battle is far from won. Not yet can I unfurl John Brown’s flag in a land of the free!” On the other hand, he knew the battle was not lost. But the Abolitionists’ fundamental tenet of “moral persuasion” would have to have a firm structure of legislation--or the house would come tumbling down. Stout girders for this structure were being lifted all over the land, in the least expected places. On January 1, 1867, the African Baptist Church of Richmond, Virginia, was packed for an Emancipation Celebration. In the midst of the singing and praying and shouting a young white man rose in the audience and, going forward, asked if he might say a word. “My name’s James Hunnicut and I’m from South Carolina,” he said. A mother hushed her child with a sharp hiss. The dark faces were suddenly cautious. The young man went on. “This is a happy birthday for you--a day to be remembered with great joy.” He waited until the fervent “Amens” and “Hallelujahs” had died away. He took a step forward and his voice grew taut. “But now each time you come together I urge you to look into the future.” Then in simple words that all could understand he talked to them of what it meant to be a citizen. He explained the machinery of government. He told them they must register and vote in the fall elections. Some of the men grew tense. They had discussed plans. To others it was new, and all leaned forward eagerly.