Daguerre and Niepce, were moving almost simultaneously in parallel paths to the same end.  You see why Patrick Henry, in Richmond, and Samuel Adams, in Boston, were startling the crown officials with the same accents of liberty, and why the Mecklenburg Resolutions had the very ring of the Protest of the Province of Massachusetts.  This law of simultaneous intellectual movement, recognized by all thinkers, expatiated upon by Lord Macaulay and by Mr. Herbert Spencer among recent writers, is eminently applicable to that change of thought and feeling which necessarily led to the present conflict.

The antagonism of the two sections of the Union was not the work of this or that enthusiast or fanatic.  It was the consequence of a movement in mass of two different forms of civilization in different directions, and the men to whom it was attributed were only those who represented it most completely, or who talked longest and loudest about it.  Long before the accents of those famous statesmen referred to ever resounded in the halls of the Capitol, long before the “Liberator” opened its batteries, the controversy now working itself out by trial of battle was foreseen and predicted.  Washington warned his countrymen of the danger of sectional divisions, well knowing the line of cleavage that ran through the seemingly solid fabric.  Jefferson foreshadowed the judgment to fall upon the land for its sins against a just God.  Andrew Jackson announced a quarter of a century beforehand that the next pretext of revolution would be slavery.  De Tocqueville recognized with that penetrating insight which analyzed our institutions and conditions so keenly, that the Union was to be endangered by slavery, not through its interests, but through the change of character it was bringing about in the people of the two sections, the same fatal change which George Mason, more than half a century before, had declared to be the most pernicious effect of the system, adding the solemn warning, now fearfully justifying itself in the sight of his descendants, that “by an inevitable chain of causes and effects, Providence punishes national sins by national calamities.”  The Virginian romancer pictured the far-off scenes of the conflict which he saw approaching as the prophets of Israel painted the coming woes of Jerusalem, and the strong iconoclast of Boston announced the very year when the curtain should rise on the yet unopened drama.

The wise men of the past, and the shrewd men of our own time, who warned us of the calamities in store for our nation, never doubted what was the cause which was to produce first alienation and finally rupture.  The descendants of the men “daily exercised in tyranny,” the “petty tyrants” as their own leading statesmen called them long ago, came at length to love the institution which their fathers had condemned while they tolerated.  It is the fearful realization of that vision of the poet where the lost angels snuff up with eager nostrils the sulphurous emanations of the bottomless abyss,—­so have their natures become changed by long breathing the atmosphere of the realm of darkness.