Coffins by Rodman Philbrick

presidency he would not formally assume for another few days. The slave states had vowed to ratify their own confederacy if an abolitionist was elected, and the populace, knowing this, had nevertheless voted for one; but now, having done so, the whole nation seemed gripped with a kind of nervous hesitation, as if slowly awakening to the full meaning of their convictions. Several states had already passed formal resolutions of secession. Meanwhile Senator Douglas, whose loathing of Lincoln seemed palpable, had failed to forge yet another compromise that might somehow appeal to the anti-slavery faction and still keep the South from abandoning the ship of state. The South Carolina legislature had been the first to vote for secession, and many of the other slave states had followed, but what legal import did those votes have, in light of the Constitution, which made no provision for dissolving the union? At the moment it was only pique and hot air, and hostilities might still be avoided.
    Knowing that an excess of coffee tended to stimulate my small friend, I did not rise to the “humbug” bait, but diverted his attention to a dispatch regarding shipment of arms to the South.
    â€œâ€˜As for the armament of the South,’” I read aloud, “‘it is intended to defend the whites against a servile insurrection. There has been so much said about the abolitionism of Lincoln and Hamlin, that the Negroes have become indoctrinated with the idea that they will be free on the fourth of March, when the new president takes the oath of office. It is to guard against a ‘rising’ that Sharpe rifles and Colt revolvers, and Ame cutlasses, are being sent southward. These weapons have to be paid for in good funds, and the Yankees who take them receive kind treatment.’”
    This brought me an owlish look from my companion. “I’m confident a man of your intelligence doesn’t believe such poppycock,” he said.
    I affected surprise. “You mean arms are not being shipped southward by greedy Yankees?”
    â€œI mean nothing of the kind! We Yankees are known for our greed, and we’re proud if it. But I have my own ‘dispatches’ from the South, and they tell me there is, unfortunately, little to fear of a slave insurrection. The Southerners know this very well, having beaten and tortured the Negroes into submission for many generations. At the first sign of spirit or independence in a male Negro, he is whipped. At the second sign, he is castrated or hung. If the spirited Negro happens to be female, her children are taken and then she is sold to an even harsher master. No, the spirited Negro does not rise up if he wishes to live, he flees north! And it is to stop this fleeing, and to repel federal troops, that the South is arming itself. They have refused to allow any of the federal forts to be relieved. Soldiers at Pickens and Sumter cannot leave, for fear of being attacked by the populace.”
    â€œBut they have not been attacked, that’s my point. So far it is nothing but Southern bluster.”
    â€œHardly. I’ll give the Southerners this much: they know there must be war to settle the question, even if you—and your like—do not.”
    â€œMy like?” I said, somewhat disingenuously.
    â€œAll you Free Democrats,” he said dismissively, with an impatient wave of his hand. “Am I wrong to lump you in with them?”
    He was not wrong. Fearing Lincoln’s obstinacy, I had cast my vote for Senator Douglas, the Free Democrat candidate. Full-throated abolitionists like Jebediah believed that Free Democrats were somehow worse than the Pro-Slavery Democrats, for being opposed to slavery but lacking the will to abolish it by bloody means if necessary.
    â€œJust because I voted for Douglas doesn’t mean I’m in favor of slavery. You know I abhor the very idea. What I am in favor of is preserving the Union. And if Congress fails to