(by the ghost of John Beauchamp Jones)
T
he Sabbath itself has dawned, yet tranquility is still denied us. Bells tolled this morning, but their summons to worship was muted by the tramp of patrols and the distant rumble of transport convoys. The city wears the mien of war, though no foreign foe presses its gates. It is the nation’s own hand that has compelled this transformation, the terror of citizens rising against their legislature.
In the chambers of Congress, resolution hardens. Members, long accustomed to rancor, now speak of duty in more solemn tones. Petitions for impeachment gather signatures with haste, and leaders of the House prepare to bring the matter forth without delay. The Senate waits in anxious silence, uncertain how far it will follow, but the air thickens with expectation that this President will depart under a darker cloud than any of his predecessors.
The populace is restless. Many thousands decry the violence of the sixth, yet multitudes beyond the capital still cling to the belief that fraud alone denied their champion the prize. Such division is perilous; it rends the fabric of society, leaving neighbors estranged and households sundered in opinion. The language of reconciliation seems to find no ear, drowned by the shouts of blame and the clamors for justice.
Reports of further plots and disturbances circulate hourly. Law officers scour for conspirators, and the newspapers fill their columns with names and accusations. The city anticipates new tumult around the inauguration, and preparations multiply accordingly. Never have I witnessed such measures at what ought to be a peaceful rite of succession — cannon at the ready, wire strung, soldiers massed, as if awaiting the march of an enemy host.
Thus the Sabbath closes not with peace, but with foreboding. The republic still trembles, her enemies abroad watching keenly, her children within disputing her very foundation. The question now is not only who shall hold the office, but whether the spirit of law and union itself can endure amid such bitter tumult.