Memoirs of John Adams Dix; comp. by his son, Morgan Dix.

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3MEMOIRS OF JOHN ADAMS DIX.

States would seek to form a separate organization; but in
what way no man as yet could tell. True, there were ominous signs in more than one quarter, yet it was probably the
general opinion that the secession would be peaceful. Even
that prospect was regarded with dismay by patriotic Americans. The end seemed not far off-the edifice, reared with
infinite toil and pains, appeared to be tottering to its fall.
Great numbers of us were terribly perplexed in those days.
Doubtless there was a glamour about the Southern cause which
influenced men in spite of themselves, a certain sophistry of
logic which gave to their demands a color of justice. It
should be remembered also that many of us never thought it
possible that a violent separation from the Union would be
attempted; we conceded the right to a peaceful and orderly
departure, if our Southern brethren should insist on having
it so. It is a matter of little or no importance what were the
feelings of the writer at that particular time, excepting as a
specimen of those of a considerable number of persons, who
loved at once the old Union and their kinsmen in the South.
As for myself, I never dreamed of the coming war; I detested abolitionism; I deemed the course of the Republican party one of unjustifiable and mischievous aggression; my sympathies were with the South, and I had no doubt of their
right, if they chose, to free themselves gently from those
bonds which held us together. Under these impressions I
voted for Breckenridge and Lane, leaving my bed while suffering from severe illness, and taking the risk involved by
standing in the cold air on an inclement day, waiting my turn
to vote, because I felt it a sacred duty to do whatever my one
ballot could accomplish to prevent the election of Mr. Lincoln. Looking back to those days is like looking into a land
of dreams. What broke the dream at once, and set me and
others in my position face to face with facts never before understood, was the opening roar of the guns directed against
Fort Sumter. With that portentous sound the old illusions
passed forever and a new cycle came in.