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LIFE AND TIMES OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS 261

second thought of the southern people. Even the capture of a fort, a shot at
one of our ships — an insult to the national flag — caused only a momentary
feeling of indignation and resentment. We could not but believe that there
existed at the South a latent and powerful Union sentiment which would
assert itself at last. Though loyal soldiers had been fired upon in the streets
of Baltimore; though loyal blood had stained the pavements of that beautiful
city, and the national government was warned to send no troops through
Baltimore to the defense of the National Capital, we could not be made to
believe that the border States would plunge madly into the bloody vortex of
rebellion.

"But this confidence, patience, and forbearance could not last forever.
These blissful illusions of hope were in a measure dispelled when the batteries
of Charleston harbor were opened upon the starving garrison at Fort
Sumter. For the moment the northern lamb was transformed into a lion, and
his roar was terrible. But he only showed his teeth, and clearly had no wish
to use them. We preferred to tight with dollars and not daggers. 'The fewer
battles the better,' was the hopeful motto at Washington. 'Peace in sixty
days,' was held out by the astute Secretary of State. In fact, there was at the
North no disposition to fight; no spirit of hate; no comprehension of the
stupendous character and dimensions of the rebellion, and no proper appreciation
of its inherent wickedness. Treason had shot its poisonous roots
deeper, and had spread its death-dealing branches further than any northern
calculation had covered. Thus while rebels were waging a barbarous war,
marshaling savage Indians to join them in the slaughter; while rifled cannon
halls were battering down the walls of our forts, and the iron-clad hand of
monarchical power was being invoked to assist in the destruction of our
government and the dismemberment of our country; while a tremendous
rebel ram was sinking our fleet and threatening the cities of our coast, we
were still dreaming of peace. This infatuation, this blindness to the significance
of passing events, can only be accounted for by the rapid passage of
these events, and by the fact of the habitual leniency and good-will cherished
by the North towards the South. Our very lack of preparation for the conflict
disposed us to look for some other than the way of blood out of the difficulty.
Treason had largely infected both army and navy, Floyd had scattered our
arms, Cobb had depleted our treasury, and Buchanan had poisoned the political
thought of the times by his doctrines of anti-coercion. It was in such a
condition of things as this that Abraham Lincoln (compelled from fear of
assassination to enter the capital in disguise) was inaugurated and issued his
proclamation for the 'repossession of the forts, places, and property which