“Let us have no half-way measures!” exclaimed Robson. “We can’t check feminine treason by sprinkling rose-water.”
“The rankest Abolitionists are among the women,” interposed Ratcliff.
“No doubt of it,” replied Robson. “Or if a woman isn’t an Abolitionist herself, she may become the mother of one. An ounce of precaution is worth a pound of cure.”
“Gentlemen,” said Mr. Polk, “I base my support of slavery on evangelical principles, and they teach me to look upon rape and murder as crimes.”
“It will do very well for you and the bishops,” replied Robson, “to tell the hoi polloi,—the people,—that slavery is evangelical; but here in this snug little coterie, we mustn’t try to fool each other,—’ wouldn’t be civil. We’ll take it for granted there are no greenhorns among us. We can therefore afford to speak plainly. Slavery is based on the principle that might makes right, and on no other.”
“That’s the talk,” said Ratcliff.
“That being the talk,” continued Robson, “let us face the music without dodging. The object of this war is to make the slaveholding interest, more than it has ever been before, the ruling interest of America; to propagate, extend, and at the same time consolidate slavery; to take away all governing power from the people and vest it in the hands of a committee of slaveholders, who will regard the wealth and power of their order as paramount to all other considerations and laws, human or divine. I presume there’s nobody here who will deny this.”
“Is it quite prudent to make such declarations?” asked Mr. Polk, in a deprecatory tone.
“Is there any one here, sir, you want to hoodwink?” returned Robson.
“O no, no!” replied Mr. Polk. “I presume we are all qualified to understand the esoteric meaning of the Rebellion.”