CHAPTER VII. THE ELECTION AND THE RESULT.
The election of 1860 was an exciting one. No means were spared to poll every possible vote. Lincoln was the Republican candidate, Douglas a Northern, and Breckinridge a Southern Democrat, and Bell the Whig and "Know-Nothing" candidate, and all four parties worked vigorously.
Mr. Tompkins and his sons reached Snagtown early in the morning. The village was already alive with the stir and excitement. The polls opened at sunrise, and men were soon crowding around them, quarreling, disputing, joking. The morning air was crisp and frosty, and the people were compelled to walk about briskly to keep from being chilled.
A dirty faced urchin, with a pumpkin under one arm and some turnips under the other, paused in front of the polls, and, stretching out his neck like a young rooster achieving his first crow, bawled out:
"Hurrah for Douglas!"
It was the first patriotic wave which had caused an undulation of his infantile breast.
There chanced to be another boy, more dirty than the first, sitting on a fence near by gnawing an apple-core. His "pa" was a Breckinridge man, and, regarding this outburst as a challenge, he threw away the apple-core and fell with fury upon him of the pumpkin and turnips. Coming head first into the stomach of the Douglasite, he sent boy, pumpkin, and turnips into the gutter.
The enraged young Douglasite scrambled to his feet, and, leaving his vegetables behind, started in hot pursuit of the now fleeing Breckinridgeite, while shouts and cheers went up from the many spectators.
Mr. Diggs came along, engaged in conversation with a farmer whom he was trying to persuade to vote for himself and Breckinridge, for Mr. Diggs was a candidate for the office of District Attorney. On account of his small stature, the candidate was compelled to walk with upturned face, in order to watch the effect of his words upon the tall Virginian. The sidewalk being crowded, they had taken the middle of the street, and Mr. Diggs struck his toe with such force against the abandoned pumpkin that he was thrown down, and, falling on the pumpkin, he rolled with it into the gutter, which was half full of mud and water. Shouts and yells of laughter greeted Mr. Diggs as he scrambled to his feet and picked up the glasses which he had lost in his fall.
"By jingo, Diggs, ye look like Crazy Joe's mud man now!" cried some one from the crowd.
This was too much for the candidate, and, with something very much like an oath, he hurried away to change his clothes.
As the day advanced, the crowd increased, and as electioneering progressed, the crowd became very noisy.
There was Mr. Snag, a direct descendant of the founder of Snagtown, who claimed political honors. He was a candidate for County Judge. He had been one of the pioneers, had fought Indians, bears, wolves, panthers, and rattlesnakes, to establish this growing country. He had always been the workingman's friend, and was now ready to sacrifice himself on the official altar.
Mr. Snag had been a clothing merchant, noted for close dealings with his customers and oppression of his employes; but two or three months before he announced himself a candidate, a change came over him. His harshness of voice and manner grew subdued. He became not agreeable only, but accommodating and charitable. He attended church and the bar-rooms regularly, and was developing into a general favorite. He was welcomed in the most select circles, yet he was not exclusive. No man was too ragged, too dirty, or too drunk to cause Mr. Snag to be ashamed of his society. He was more than changed; he was completely metamorphosed.
On election day he was more affable than ever. He was at hand to lift up a drunken rowdy who had fallen over the pumpkin, and led him at once to the voting place, to poll his vote for himself and Breckinridge. But the pumpkin remained.
Later in the day, two rowdies, from the country, having imbibed too much of the electioneering beverage, got in a quarrel. One struck the other, and he fell by the pumpkin. A friend of the fallen man seized the pumpkin, and broke it into fragments over the other man's head, bringing him to the ground, of course. A general melee was averted only by the appearance of some good-natured candidate, who tried to restore peace, followed by a couple of constables, who at once arrested the malcontents.
In the afternoon Abner and Oleah went up to the polls. The two brothers had been silent during the forenoon, both seeming to avoid the political question which was agitating the Nation.
"Who are you going to vote for, Abner?" asked Mr. Diggs, strutting up to the young planter with a smile he thought becoming a District Attorney. "Is it Breckinridge, Douglas, or constitutional unionist Bell?"
"Neither," Abner answered.
"Who, then, is your man?" asked the inquisitive Mr. Diggs, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, and tipping first on his heels then on his toes, as he looked up, with an engaging smile, into the face of the man before him.
"I shall vote for Abraham Lincoln," Abner answered firmly.
"Pshaw! you are joking," said Mr. Diggs, his little eyes twinkling idiotically behind his glasses.
"I was never more in earnest."
"Why, man, they'd hang you if you voted for Lincoln!"
"I shall risk it, at all events."
His brother's words brought a sharp pain to Oleah's heart. He stopped suddenly, and laid a detaining hand on Abner's arm.
"Abner, you surely do not intend to vote for that Abolitionist?" he said, with a ring of defiance in his voice.
"I do," was the firm reply.
"For heaven's sake, think what you are about. Do you want to ruin the country?" Entreaty and distress was melting his indignation.
"No, I want to save it," was the calm reply.
"How can it be that you will vote for an abolitionist?"
"Because his principles and mine are the same," said Abner, earnestly.
The brothers were nearer a quarrel than they had ever been in their lives. Oleah's feelings were wounded, and he turned away, leaving his brother to go his way alone.
But three votes were polled in Snagtown for Abraham Lincoln, and Abner Tompkins, his father, and Uncle Dan, were supposed to have cast them.
Late that evening Mr. Tompkins and his sons rode home. The trio were silent and thoughtful, but they little dreamed what that day's work would bring forth.
Great was the consternation of the Southern leaders when the result of the election became known. Reports were fluctuating from the first, yet soon began to show favorable returns for Lincoln. Betting was heavy in Snagtown. In a few days the leaders began to threaten a dissolution, and, no sooner was it ascertained beyond a doubt that Mr. Lincoln was elected than they proceeded to put their menaces into execution. At this time secession was rife, the very air was full of it. Southern politicians alleged that Mr. Lincoln was a sectional candidate, pledged to the overthrow of slavery. On the 20th of December, 1860, a convention in Charleston declared that "the union before existing between South Carolina and other States, under the name of the United States of America, was dissolved."
By the 1st of February, 1861, through the influence of the press and the devices of a few leaders, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas, following the example of South Carolina, had passed ordinances of secession, and their Senators and Representatives left their seats in the American Congress.
On the 4th of February, delegates from six of the seceded States met at Montgomery, Alabama, and formed a union under the title of the "Confederate States of America." For provisional President they elected Mr. Jefferson Davis, of Mississippi, who had been a Colonel of some note in the Mexican War, a member of Pierce's cabinet, and a prominent advocate of Southern rights in the United States Senate.
But we must now attend to the individuals in this history, whom other historians have neglected.
On the evening of the 23d of December, 1860, Mr. Tompkins and his family were assembled in the large, cheerful sitting-room. The fire-place was piled with blazing logs, and the light and warmth of the room seemed more pleasant, contrasted with the soughing winds and falling snow without.
No thought of the approaching holidays seemed to have entered the minds of any of the group. The brothers were silent and sat apart. The cloud, so small as to be scarcely discernable, was growing larger and overshadowing each. It had first been visible on election day, when they parted on the way to the polls. Though no allusion had ever been made to this conversation, their brotherly union had been shaken. They drove, rode, and hunted together as usual, but there was one question they could never approach without disagreeing, and disagreement was apt to produce disagreeable feelings.
There was a ring at the bell, and the girl who answered the summons ushered in Uncle Dan, closely followed by Crazy Joe.
"Good evenin' to ye all," said the old man, as he entered the cozy sitting room. "How do you all do?"
"Pretty well, Uncle Dan. How are you and Joe this evening?" returned Mr. Tompkins, rising and grasping the hard, rough hand of the old hunter.
"We ar' both purty well," said Uncle Dan, shaking hands with all present. "I tell ye what's a fact, it's gettin' cold out, an' no mistake, snowing just like blazes."
Joe, who was in no talkative mood, took a seat in a corner, and fixed his gaze on the fire.
"I thought from the way the wind whistled it had grown colder. Come, Maggie, fix Uncle Dan and Joe some supper," said the planter.
"Ya-as, fur I'm hungry as a wolf," returned the old man, with the familiarity of a frequent and welcome guest.
"Are you hungry, Joe?" asked Mrs. Tompkins.
"I am, but it is written that man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word of God."
"I'll put that ar' fellur agin any preacher in the settlement for quotin' Scriptur. He jest seems to know the whole thing by heart."
"Have you heard any news recently?" Mr. Tompkins asked.
"News! Don't talk about news! Jist wait till I've had some supper, an' I'll give ye a little mess o' news that'll make ye hair stand on ye head."
After the mountaineer had partaken of a warm meal, and returned to the comfortable sitting-room, Mr. Tompkins asked:
"What is that remarkable news, Uncle Dan?"
"Wall, I kin tell it now," he answered, resuming his seat, "but I sw'ar it war too much for a empty stomach. About two hours ago the news first come to Snagtown, an' now the whole place is wild. The convention, which met at Charleston, South Carliny, three days ago, passed ordernances o' secession, and declar' the State out o' the Union."
"Oh, pshaw! it must be a mistake," said Mr. Tompkins.
"Mistake? Not by a jug full. It ar' a actual fact. The news came in as straight as a crow flies. There war rumors o' it before, but now it's sartin."
"Great heaven! that means civil war."
"It means war, but it wont be civil, not by a jug full. They ar' already talkin' about musterin' men and gettin' ready to fight. Thar's to be a grand muster and speakin' at Snagtown next Saturday. They say that Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas ar' sure to foller South Carliny, in a few weeks, and maybe all them slave States, even Virginia and Missouri."
"Have the people gone crazy?" cried Mr. Tompkins.
"It's no more than might be expected," said Oleah. "The North has set her foot on the South, and if she feels like withdrawing from the partnership, she certainly has a right to do so."
"Partnership?" put in Abner, with an astonished look.
"It is merely a confederation of States, formed by a compact, and, if one wishes to withdraw, she has the right," answered Oleah.
"Our Government is formed by the people, and not by the States," said Abner.
"Then, why is it not called the United People, and not the United States? Each State is a separate corporation, capable of suing and being sued, contracting and dissolving contracts. They were originally colonies, but when they freed themselves from Great Britain, for protection and safety, they united. Who can doubt that South Carolina has not the right, when she has become capable of taking care of herself, to withdraw from others?"
"There is a great difference between corporations and governments," said Abner. "Our Constitution does not say, 'We, the United States,' 'As the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union.' When they belonged to England, they were considered as a whole and not as a part. In the Declaration of Independence, declaring the Colonies free and independent States, does so in the name and by the authority of the good people whom they represented, and not of the States."
"All that sounds very well, Abner," said Oleah, bitterly, "but words will have no effect on an oppressed and downtrodden people. The South will be free—"
"Yes, if they have to enslave one-half of humanity to do so," interrupted Abner.
"That's just the point Abolitionists are driving to, though few are as honest as you to admit. The slaves make the South wealthy and powerful. The North is jealous and wants to deprive us of the means of wealth. There is but one remedy left us—the same remedy adopted by the Colonies when oppressed by Great Britain—withdraw, rebel."
"You are too hasty," said Abner, more coolly. "You have no assurance that when Abraham Lincoln does take his seat, the 4th of March next, he will abolish slavery. Wait and see."
"Wait and see?" cried Oleah. "Wait until he has withdrawn every gun and armed vessel from the South? Wait until he has overrun the whole country with armed soldiers? Wait until he has bound us hand and foot? Then what can we do? No! Now is the time for action."
"I don't believe Lincoln will free the negroes," said Abner.
"I will stake my life as the wager," said Oleah, "that before his term of office expires, he declares every negro in the United States a free American citizen, war or no war. Mark my words and see if I am not a true prophet."
"Come, come, boys, we have had political discussion enough for the present," said Mr. Tompkins.
"Ya-as," said Uncle Dan, "we don't want the civil war to commence to-night; least of all places, heah. One thing sure about it, you youngsters had better let us old folks talk 'bout these things, we can do it without gettin' so red in the face. The whole country is in a bad fix, an' ef it comes to a smash up, I swar I don't want to see it begin between brothers."