The Southerner: A Romance of the Real Lincoln Part 25

Is it to be wondered at that the Southern people were absolutely clear in their conception of the right to secede if such doctrines were taught in the North by the highest authority within the party which had elected Abraham Lincoln?

If his own party leaders were boldly proclaiming such treason to the Union how could he hope to stem the tide that had set in for its ruin?

The thousands of conservative men North and South who voted for Bell and Everett demanded peace at any price. An orator in New York at a great ma.s.s meeting dared to say:

"If a revolution of force is to begin it shall be inaugurated at home!

It will be just as brutal to send men to butcher our brothers of the South as it will be to ma.s.sacre them in the Northern States."

The business interests of the Northern cities were bitterly and unanimously arrayed against any attempt to use force against the South.

The city of New York was thoroughly imbued with Secession sentiment, and its Mayor, through Daniel E. Sickles, one of the members of Congress, demanded the establishment of a free and independent Munic.i.p.al State on the island of Manhattan.

Seward had just written to Charles F. Adams, our minister to England:

"Only an imperial and despotic government could subjugate thoroughly disaffected and insurrectionary members of the State. This Federal Republican country of ours is, of all forms of Government, the very one which is the most unfitted for such a labor."

This letter could only mean one of two things, either that the first member of the Cabinet was a Secessionist and meant to allow the South to go unmolested, or he planned to change our form of Government by a _coup d'etat_ in the crisis and a.s.sume the Dictators.h.i.+p. In either event his att.i.tude boded ill for the new President and his future.

Wendell Phillips, the eloquent friend of Senator Winter, declared in Boston in a public address:

"Here are a series of states who think their peculiar inst.i.tutions require that they should have a separate government. They have the right to decide that question without appealing to you or me. Standing with the principles of '76 behind us, who can deny them the right? Abraham Lincoln has no right to a soldier in Fort Sumter. There is no longer a Union. You can not go through Ma.s.sachusetts and recruit men to bombard Charleston or New Orleans. Nothing but madness can provoke a war with the Gulf States."

The last member of his distracted, divided, pa.s.sion-ridden Cabinet had gone at the close of its first eventful sitting. The dark figure of the President stood beside the window looking over the mirror-like surface of the Potomac to the hills of Virginia.

The shadow of a great sorrow shrouded his face and form. The shoulders drooped. But the light in the depths of his sombre eyes was growing steadily in intensity.

Old Edward, the veteran hallman, appeared at the door with his endless effort to wash his hands without water.

"A young gentleman wishes to see you, sir, a reporter I think--Mr. Ned Vaughan, of the _Daily Republican_."

Without lifting his eyes from the Virginia hills, the quiet voice said:

"Let him in."

In vain the wily diplomat of the press sought to obtain a declaration of policy on the question of the relief of Fort Sumter. In his easy, friendly way the President made him welcome, but only smiled and slowly shook his head in answer to each pointed question, or laughed aloud at the skillful traps he was invited to enter.

"It's no use, my boy," he said at last, with a weary gesture. "I'm not going to tell you anything to-day----" he paused, and the light suddenly flashed from beneath his s.h.a.ggy brows, "----except this--you can say to your readers that my course is as plain as a turnpike road. It is marked out by the Const.i.tution. I am in no doubt which way to go. I am going to try to save the Union."

"In short," Ned laughed, "you propose to stand by your Inaugural?"

"That's a pretty good guess, young man! I'm surprised that you paid such close attention to my address."

"Perhaps I had an interpreter?"

"Did you?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"A very beautiful young woman, Mr. President," Ned answered serenely.

The hazel-grey eyes twinkled:

"What's her name, sir?"

"Miss Betty Winter."

"Not the daughter of that old grizzly bear who's always camping on my trail?"

"The same, sir."

The swarthy face lighted with a radiant smile:

"What did she say about my Inaugural?"

"That it was the utterance of a wise, patient, great man."

Two big hands suddenly closed on Ned's and the tall figure bent low.

"Thank you for telling me that, my boy. It helps me after a hard day!"

"She said many other things, too, sir," Ned added.

"Did she?"

"With enthusiasm."

"Tell her to come to me," the President said slowly. "I want to talk to her."

He paused, turned to his desk and seized a pen:

"I'll send a subpoena for her--that's better."

On one of his cards he quickly wrote:

"MY DEAR MISS WINTER:

"You are hereby summoned to immediately appear before the Chief Magistrate to testify concerning grave matters of State.

A. LINCOLN."

He slipped his long arm around Ned's shoulder and walked with him to the door:

"Serve that on her for me, will you, right away?"

With a nod and a smile, the reporter bowed and turned his steps toward the Senator's house.