Congress passed, in
secret session, a resolution to remove the seat of government to Richmond; but
I learn it has been vetoed by the President. There is a strong feeling against
going thither among some of the secessionists in the Cotton States. Those who
do not think there will be a great deal of fighting, have apprehensions that
the border States, so tardy in the secession movement, will strive to
monopolize the best positions and patronage of the new government. Indeed, if
it were quite certain that there is to be no war for existence — as if a nation
could be free without itself striking the blow for freedom — I think there
would be a party — among the politicians, not the people — opposed to
confederating with the border slave States.
Some of his
fellow-members tell many jokes on Mr. Hunter. They say every time he passes the
marble-yards going up to the capitol, and surveys the tomb-stones, he groans in
agony, and predicts that he will get sick and die here. If this be true, I
predict that he will get the seat of government moved to Richmond, a more
congenial climate. He has a way of moving large bodies, which has rarely failed
him; and some of his friends at the hotels, already begin to hint that he is
the proper man to be the first President of the permanent government. I
think he will be President some day. He would be a safe one. But this whisper
at the hotel has produced no little commotion. Some propose making him
Secretary of War, as a sure means of killing him off. I know a better way than
that, but I wouldn't suggest it for the world. I like him very much.
To-day the
Secretary placed in my hands for examination and report, a very long document,
written by a deposed or resigned Roman priest. He urged a plan to avert the
horrors of war. He had been to see Lincoln, Gov. Letcher, etc., and finally
obtained an interview on “important business” with President Davis. The
President, not having leisure even to listen to his exordium, requested him to
make his communication briefly in writing. And this was it — about
twenty pages of foolscap. It consisted chiefly of evidences of the exceeding
wickedness of war, and suggestions that if both belligerents would only
forbear to take up arms, the peace might be preserved, and God would
mediate between them. Of course I could only indorse on the back “demented.”
But the old man hung round the department for a week afterward, and then
departed, I know not whither. I forget his name, but his paper is in the
archives of the government. I have always differed with the preachers in
politics and war, except the Southern preachers who are now in arms against the
invader. I think war is one of the providences of God, and certainly no book
chronicles so much fighting as the Bible. It may be to the human race what
pruning is to vegetation, a necessary process for the general benefit.
SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's
Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 41-2
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