. . . I have finished my report and placed all
the papers in the hands of Dr. Smith the vice-president. I walked into town the
day before yesterday, poor Clay being dead and buried. Dr. Smith was away and I
only remained a few hours. Alexandria at best is not a cheerful town, but now
decidedly the reverse. Everybody naturally feels the danger which envelopes us
all in one common cause. I have had nothing said to me at all, and I discuss
the questions of the day freely with my equals, and try to keep my peace with
loungers about the street corners and ferry-boat landing. I always say what is
my real belief, that though the slavery question seems to be the question
soon it will sink into insignificance.
Our country has
become so democratic that the mere popular opinion of any town or village rises
above the law. Men have ceased to look to constitutions and law books for their
guides, but have studied popular opinion in bar rooms and village newspapers,
and that was and is law. The old women and grannies of New England, reasoning
from abstract principles, must defy the constitution of the country, the people
of the South not relying on the federal government must allow their people to
favor filibustering expeditions, against the solemn treaties of the land; and
anywhere from California to Maine any man could do murder, robbery or arson if
the people's prejudice lay in that direction. And now things are at such a pass
that no one section believes the other, and we are beginning to fight.
The right of
secession is but the beginning of the end; it is utterly wrong and the
president ought never for one moment to have permitted the South Carolinians to
believe he would not enforce the revenue laws and hold the public property in
Charleston Harbor. Had he promptly reinforced Maj. Anderson the Charlestonians
would have been a little more circumspect. My only hope is that Maj. Anderson
may hold out, that more reinforcements may reach him, and that the people may
feel that they can't always do as they please. Or in other words that they are
not so free and independent as they think. In this view I am alone here, but I
do so think, and will say it. . .
If still this Civil
War should pass over I shall require you all to come down regardless of
consequences, for here I must stay summer and winter, or else give it up. . .
St. Louis will be
paralyzed with Civil War, and California will be a foreign country. My only
hope is that bad as things now look there may occur some escape, or if
dissolution is inevitable that Ohio and Louisiana may belong to the same
confederacy. I am so far out of the current here that I can only judge by
newspapers and they all indicate a bias. The Louisiana convention will surely
secede, but then the reconstruction. At all events I cannot do anything till
that is over, if they turn me out I must stay and get my dues, and I will send
you every cent I can. The house is now done and the carpenters leave it to-day
for good. People begin to wonder why you don't come down, and the fact is
operating to my prejudice, but at this time it would be imprudent to do so.
Maybe a change may yet occur. . .
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