Storm Clouds Rolling In (41 page)

Matthew nodded.
“I’ll be happy to be her escort for a while. Is she pretty?” Robert shot him a sharp look. Grinning, Matthew held up his hand. “No need to respond to that. The answer is
yes, and you better stay away from her
. Now that I know how the land lies, I promise to be just like an older brother.”

The look on his face told Robert they would pick this conversation up later.

With Thomas embroiled in debate with some of the Virginia delegates, Robert and Matthew were free to stroll the streets of Baltimore. They had been in the city for three days, and still nothing had been done. Any voices of reason were being drowned out by unrelenting passion. Both of their hearts were heavy as they watched the seemingly unstoppable destruction of their country.

The convention was locked on whether or not new delegates added to the Southern delegations in order to obtain Douglas’
s nomination would be allowed. The Northern delegates had been surprised when the Southern delegates who had walked out of the Charleston convention had arrived in Baltimore. Decisions would have to be made concerning which delegates would be voting. Nothing would happen until some decision was made. At least not in the Front Street Theatre. On the streets, the collective temper was rising hour by hour.

“Let’s stop for the show.”

Robert looked in the direction Matthew was pointing just in time to see Yancey take his place on the steps of the Gilmore House. His face twisted with distaste. “I heard enough of him in Charleston.”

Matthew took his arm and propelled him forward.
“I agree it will be unpleasant, but it’s part of my job. I’ve already heard the Douglas people harping that the only way to show true fidelity to the Democratic cause is to vote for Douglas. It’s my job to hear both sides.”

Robert relented and allowed himself to be led to the edge of the crowd of agitated listeners.
The three days of inactivity had been good for no one. Passions and feelings were building to a crescendo as the days wore on.

Yancey turned to the group and began his usual castigation of the Douglas men.
His words built to a fevered pitch until he raised his arms and cried, “The Douglas men are nothing but abolitionists in disguise! They are nothing but selfish men who have buried their heads in the sands of squatter sovereignty and are now showing their abolitionist posteriors!”

Robert looked around him with disgust as the cheers erupted.
He was startled when he felt a rough hand descend on his shoulder.

“You with us or not, boy?”

Shaking off the hand, Robert stepped back and viewed his challenger disdainfully as he took in the coarse clothing and the gagging stench of whiskey on his breath.

Not to be thwarted, the man moved forward and pressed his face closer to Robert’s.
“I’m talking to you, boy! You don’t look like you agree with our Mr. Yancey.”

“And if I don’t?”
Robert’s voice was clipped.

The drunken man didn’t bother with a response.
He grinned as if he were delighted with the response, and then his fist shot out and connected with Robert’s chin.

Robert, surprised by the attack, staggered back, shook his head to clear the stars, and braced for the next attack, berating himself that he had been caught unaware.
He had seen violence erupting all over the city. While he was not looking for a fight, neither would he run from it. He was ready when the other man charged. Stepping aside lightly, he drove his fist deep into the soft belly exposed to him. He gave a satisfied smile when he heard a grunt and felt the other man go limp as he gasped for air. Gazing down for just a moment, he turned and spoke to Matthew. “You ready to move on?” he said cheerfully.

Matthew grinned.
“I’d say it’s time before anyone else decides to try their luck. I’d hate to see you litter the street with any more drunken men.”

Backs straight, they moved on down the street, ignoring the muttering of the mob behind them.
Robert found it easy to disregard the throbbing in his hand. It was not so easy to ignore his throbbing heart. It hurt to watch the events unfolding in the country he loved so much.

The two men walked until they found a quiet spot overlooking the harbor and sat down.
The dark, moonless night wrapped a blanket of quiet around them. Each man was lost to his own thoughts as the water lapped gently below them.

“You’ll live in another country, you know.”

Matthew looked over at his friend. “I know, but Robert, don’t give up hope yet. There might still be a way to turn this craziness around.”

Robert just shook his head.
His hopes had dwindled in the last few days. Reality had become his bitter friend.

“Tell me about Carrie,” Matthew invited.

Robert managed a slight smile. He knew Matthew was searching for a way to take his mind off the troubles in the country. He also knew his friend, in reality, was no more optimistic than he was. Still, he would play his game. “She is the most beautiful girl I have ever known. But,” he hastened to add, “it’s not just her beauty on the outside. She is more alive than any girl I have ever met. She fairly glows with life and enthusiasm.”

“And she has dreams?”

“Yes.
She wants to be a doctor.”

Matthew whistled.
“Quite an undertaking. Especially for a southern woman.”

“She knows.”

“And what about you, Robert?” Matthew asked. “How does that fit in with your plans for your plantation? Will she be a plantation wife?”

“She abhors the very idea,” Robert admitted ruefully.
Then he shrugged. “I love her, Matthew.”

“But...?”

“We are on opposite sides of so many things. I want plantation life. She wants nothing more than to be free of it. I believe with all my heart that slavery is right—”

“And she doesn’t?”

“I’m not sure she knows
what
she believes,” Robert said slowly. “I just know it could tear us apart. Why can’t she just see that it’s right?” Then he realized who he was talking to. “Sorry. I know you don’t share my feelings. I guess I’m talking to the wrong person.”

Matthew hesitated for a long moment before he spoke.
“Are you sure
you
believe slavery is right?”

Robert looked at him sharply.
“Of course I do.”

“Then you’ll have to figure out a way to deal with it.”
Matthew would say no more.

Robert gazed out over the water.
Why had Matthew’s last question bothered him so much? He knew what he believed about slavery, didn’t he?

The showdown came at
seven o’clock in the evening on Friday, June 22. The theater was packed and a strange silence hovered over the crowd. It didn’t take long for the inevitable to occur. With the addition of the pro-Douglas delegates from the South, Douglas could now be nominated.

Thomas’
s heart sank from where he was watching in the gallery as Delegate Russell of Virginia stood. He knew what was about to happen, but the pill was even more bitter to swallow when he realized it was coming from his own beloved state.                            

Russell’s speech was brief.
“It is inconsistent with our convictions to participate longer...” Most of the Virginia delegates rose and quietly left the room amid the turmoil Russell’s words had provoked. They were followed by a large number of delegates from other states.

Thomas frowned as he scribbled notes to take back to Letcher.
The Deep South has formalized the decision made earlier in Charleston. It will not go along with Douglas under any circumstances.
Thomas was sure the actions of Charleston would be imitated. The withdrawing states would form their own convention and nominate their own candidate.

He continued to scribble as the bedlam roared around him.
What is the Deep South doing? Instead of bringing a candidate to oppose Douglas; instead of laying issues before the people so they could be enlightened in making a choice; instead of principles discussed, what have we seen? An unrelenting war against the individual brought forth as the favorite of the nation. A war of unscrupulous politicians who want nothing more than to war against their nation.
Heavyhearted, Thomas put down his pen and settled back to see what would happen next in this two-ringed circus.

Thomas shouldered his way out of the crowded theater.
All he wanted was fresh air. He had seen enough to make him sick for the rest of his life. He still could not believe a group of self-interested men had bartered away his country. It was just a matter of time now.

“Are you ready to go home now, Robert?”
Thomas asked as he joined Robert on the sidewalk. “There is nothing more we can do here now,” he said bitterly.

“You’re right, sir.”
Robert hesitated. “I guess I just want to see how it ends.”

Thomas nodded reluctantly, wanting nothing more than to go home to the peace of his plantation
and enjoy his home for as long as he still had it, but he had to consider Robert as well. “Very well. We’ll stay until it’s over.”

It was over quickly.
Douglas received his nomination. So did John C. Breckinridge, nominated unanimously by the withdrawn states that were claiming themselves to be the
real
Democratic Convention, based on sharp pro-slavery issues.

Thomas added to his pages of scribbling.
The Douglas men came to Baltimore blinded by their own optimism and confidence. They did not understand the power and desperation of the South. They were foolish enough to believe the opposition to their plans would quietly subside and disappear. They were, however, met by a spirit more intolerant than their own. At Charleston and Baltimore, the South has taken its stand. It will remain the South, separate and unalterable
.

Thomas sighed and stared out at the scenery unrolling beneath the train wheels.
He was heartsick, but glad it was over. The reality was a tragedy, but at least a course had been determined. He was sure the course would lead to nothing but destruction of all he held dear, but still a faint hope persisted that the supposedly unalterable course of events could indeed be changed.