This is the
anniversary of the Literary Club — the society with which so much of my life is
associated. It will be celebrated tonight. The absent will be remembered. I
wish I was there. How many who have been members are in the tented field! What
a roll for our little club! I have seen these as members: General Pope, now
commanding in Missouri; Lieutenant-Colonel Force of the Twentieth, in Kentucky;
Major Noyes of the Thirty-ninth, in Missouri; Lieutenant-Colonel Matthews, Twenty-third,
in Virginia; Secretary Chase, the power (brain and soul) of the Administration;
Governor Corwin, Minister to Mexico; Tom Ewing, Jr., Chief Justice of Kansas;
Ewing Sr., the great intellect of Ohio; Nate Lord, colonel of a Vermont or New
Hampshire regiment; McDowell, a judge in Kansas; McDowell (J. H.), a senator
and major in Kansas; Oliver and Mallon, common pleas judges; Stanton, a
representative Ohio House of Representatives; and so on. Well, what good times
we have had! Wit, anecdote, song, feast, wine, and good fellowship — gentlemen
and scholars. I wonder how it will go off tonight.
Queer world! We
fret our little hour, are happy and pass away. Away! Where to? “This longing
after immortality! These thoughts that wander through eternity”! I have been
and am an unbeliever of all these sacred verities. But will I not take refuge
in the faith of my fathers at last? Are we not all impelled to this? The great
abyss, the unknown future, — are we not happier if we give ourselves up to some
settled faith? Can we feel safe without it? Am I not more and more carried
along, drifted, towards surrendering to the best religion the world has yet
produced? It seems so. In this business, as I ride through the glorious scenery
this loveliest season of the year, my thoughts float away beyond this wretched
war and all its belongings. Some, yes many, glorious things, as well as all
that is not so, [impress me] ; and [I] think of the closing years on the
down-hill side of life, and picture myself a Christian, sincere, humble, devoted,
as conscientious in that as I am now in this — not more so. My belief in this
war is as deep as any faith can be; — but thitherward I drift. I see it and am
glad.
All this I write,
thinking of the debates, the conversations, and the happiness of the Literary
Club. It has been for almost twelve years an important part of my life. My best
friends are among its members — Rogers, Stephenson, Force, James. And how I
have enjoyed Strong, McConkey (alas!), Wright, McDowell, Mills, Meline, and
all! And thinking of this and those leads me to long for such communion in a
perfection not known on earth and to hope that in the future there may be a
purer joy forever and ever. And as one wishes, so he drifts. While these
enjoyments are present we have little to wish for; as they slip from us, we
look forward and hope and then believe with the college theme, “There is more
beyond.” And for me to believe is to act and live according to my faith.
SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and
Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 127-8
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