The Southerner. Jr. Thomas Dixon
in the language of the people. It was something new under the sun.
And then, with the clear ring of a trumpet, each syllable falling clean cut and sharp with marvellous distinctness, he continued:
"I hold that the Union of these States is perpetual——"
He paused for an instant, his voice suddenly failing from deep emotion and then, as if stung by the silence with which this thrilling thought was received, he uttered the only words not written in his manuscript, and made the only gesture of his entire address. His great fist came down with a resounding smash on the table and in tones heard by the last man who hung on the edge of the throng, he said:
"No State has the right to secede!"
And still no cheer came from the strangely silent crowd—only a vague shiver swept the hearts of the Southern people before him. If the North loved the Union they were giving no tokens to the tall, lonely figure on that platform.
At last the sentences, big with the fate of millions, were slowly and tenderly spoken:
"I shall take care that the laws of the Union be faithfully executed in all the States. Doing this I deem to be a simple duty on my part, and I shall perform it——"
At last he had touched the hidden powder magazine with an electric spark, and a cheer swept the crowd. It died away at last—rose with new power and rose a third time before it subsided, and the clear voice went on:
"I trust this will not be regarded as a menace, but only as the declared purpose of the Union that it will constitutionally defend and maintain itself. In doing this there needs be no bloodshed or violence; and there shall be none unless it be forced upon the National authority. The power confided in me will be used to hold and occupy and possess the property and places belonging to the Government."
Again the powder mine exploded, and a cheer rose. The grim walls of Fort Sumter and Pickens, in far off Southern waters, flashed red before every eye.
The applause suddenly died away into the old silence, and a man in the crowd before the platform yelled:
"We're for Jefferson Davis!"
There was no answer and no disorder—only the shrill cry of the Southerner through the silence, and the speaker continued his address. Senator Douglas looked uneasily over the crowd toward the spot from whence came the cry. His brow wrinkled with a frown.
John Vaughan leaned toward Betty and whispered half to himself:
"I wonder if those cheers were defiance after all?"
But the girl was too intent on the words of the speaker to answer. His next sentence brought a smile and a nod of approval from Senator Douglas.
"But beyond what may be necessary for those objects, there will be no invasion, no using of force against or among the people anywhere——"
Again and again Douglas nodded his approval and spoke it in low tones:
"Good! Good! That means no coercion."
And then, followed in solemn tones, the fateful sentences:
"In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow countrymen, and not in mine is the momentous issue of civil war. The Government will not assail you unless you first assail it. You can have no conflict without yourselves being the aggressors. You have no oath registered in Heaven to destroy the Government, while I shall have the most solemn one to 'preserve, protect and defend' it. You can forbear the assault upon it; I can not shrink from the defense of it——"
Again he paused, and the crowd hung spellbound as he began his closing paragraph in tender persuasive accents throbbing with emotion, his clear voice breaking for the first time:
"I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land will yet swell the chorus of the Union when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature."
The closing words fell from his sensitive lips with the sad dreamy eyes blinded by tears.
At last he had touched the hearts of all. The sincerity and beauty of the simple appeal for the moment hushed bitterness and passion and the cheer was universal.
The black-robed figure of the venerable Chief Justice stepped forward with extended open Bible. His bony, trembling fingers and cadaverous intellectual face gave the last touch of dramatic contrast between the old and new régimes.
The tall, dark man reverently laid his left hand on the open Book, raised his right arm, and slowly repeated the words of the oath:
"I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, so help me God!"
The words had scarcely died on his lips when the distant boom of cannon proclaimed the new President. The crowd on the platform rose and stood with uncovered heads, while the procession formed in the same order as at its entrance and returned to the White House.
"What do you think of it?" Betty asked breathlessly, turning to Ned.
The firm young lips came together with sudden passion:
"The argument has ended. To your tents, O Israel! It means war——"
"Nonsense," John broke in impetuously. "It means anything or nothing. It's hot and cold—a straddle, a contradiction——"
He paused and turned to Betty:
"What do you think?"
"Of the President?" she asked dreamily.
"Of his Inaugural," John corrected.
"I don't know whether it means peace or war, not being a statesman, but of one thing I'm sure——"
She paused and Ned leaned close:
"Yes?"
"That a great man has appeared on the scene——"
Both men laughed and she went on with deep earnestness:
"I mean it—he's splendid—he's wonderful! He's a poet—a dreamer—and so typically Southern, Mr. Ned Vaughan. I could easily picture him fighting a duel over a fine point of honor, as he did once. He's patient, careful, wise, cautious—very tender and very strong. To me he's inspired——"
Again both men laughed.
"I honestly believe that God has sent him into the Kingdom for such a time as this."
"You get that impression from his rambling address with its obvious effort to straddle the Universe?" John asked incredulously.
"Not from what he said," Betty persisted, "so much as the way he said it—though I got the very clear idea that his purpose is to save the Union. He made that thought ring through my mind over all others."
"You really like him?" Ned asked with a cold smile.
"I love him," was the eager answer. "He's adorable. He's genuine—a man of the people. We've had many Presidents who wore purple and fine linen and professed democracy—now we've the real thing. I wonder if they'll crucify him. All through his address I could see the little ragged forlorn boy standing beside his mother's grave crying his heart out in despair and loneliness. He's wonderful. And he's not overawed by these big white pillars above us, either. The man who tries to set up for a Dictator while he's in the White House will find trouble——"
"The two leading men he has called to his cabinet," John broke in musingly, "hold him in contempt."
"There's a surprise in store for Mr. Seward and Mr. Chase," Betty ventured.
"I'm afraid