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."