CHAPTER 34—Means to an End

25 NOVEMBER 1860

Last month, our grandson Samuel LeBois Armstrong was born in Livingston. We stayed there for a few weeks so I could assist in caring for the newborn. The Armstrong household also accommodates other teachers as boarders, resulting in cramped living quarters. 

Meanwhile, John rode out to meet with local plantation owners and continue his search for potential locations for slave chapels. While I usually prefer to discuss my grandchildren rather than politics, recent events must be acknowledged.

With Lincoln's election, Greensboro is in turmoil. The Whig party divided into those who demand immediate secession and those who initially wanted to remain in the Union but have now agreed to secession, but with a delay. Before the election, the majority were in favor of waiting, but afterward, voices became more aggressive, and the immediate secessionists gained power. John Erving is their leader, and he is quite effective.

Significant changes are taking place at the cotton gin factory, and they affect us greatly. Under pressure from Mr. Weldon, Joe has dismissed all white male workers at the factory except Mr. Oaks.  My love wrote letters of recommendation for each of them, suggesting places where they might find employment. One of these places is Prattville, as Daniel Pratt is most likely to be able to hire them. The men can stay until the end of this month, but most have already left. The Oaks family will leave at the end of December because Joe did not want to evict them until after Christmas.

We are currently staying with Rufus, and every evening, our discussions revolve around when Alabama will secede and when the Greensboro Light Artillery (also known as the Greensboro Guard) will join a larger army. Miss Mattie also talks about her brother Will, who teaches mathematics at the East Alabama Male College in Auburn. He is a part of the Auburn Guard, and she fears they will be summoned to war as well.

I find myself torn between wanting to know every detail and wishing I could retreat into blissful ignorance. Rufus speaks little about matters not directly concerning his family, his dental practice, our church, and his hometown. He loves them all. But last night as we four warmed ourselves by the fireplace in the parlor, he shared news from his latest militia meeting. His demeanor was grim as he spoke.

"The Greensboro Guards are preparing for mobilization," he said. "We've been drilling more frequently and discussing potential deployments. I remember when Sam left to fight the Mexican War, when not everyone from the Guard felt compelled to go with him.”

He stared into the fire as he considered what he would say next, as if weighing the past and the present in his mind. "But now, they are excited about the prospect of war. We have several who are under the age of twenty-five, and, like Sam was when he left at age 20, they picture themselves marching, shooting at something or someone whose face is not clear to them, and then gathering around the campfire at night to sing rousing songs.”

He paused, and in that silence, I could almost hear the naïve enthusiasm of those young men, the romanticized notions of glory and honor. Rufus bent down and picked at a splinter forming in the floor. “Hmmmm… make sure one of the boys fixes that, Mrs. LeBois.” My son does not often address his wife so formally. He righted himself, squaring his shoulders, and grasping his hands behind his back. 

“There are a few of a certain age,” he continued, “who will wish to remain in Greensboro. They have professions, family, other matters needing attention here. We nod to each other with a knowing eye but say nothing.”

I studied my son, noting the lines of worry that had begun to etch themselves into his once-boyish face. Is he prepared to march away from his family, his practice, his life here? Or does he secretly hope that something intervenes, allowing him to stay?

He continued, breaking my reverie. "We understand the risks, the true cost of conflict. It's not just an adventure for us, it's a gamble with our lives and the lives of those we leave behind. Yet, we are sworn to our duty."

When Sam returned from the Mexican War, his eyes spoke of things he could not or would not say. The young men of the Guard have no idea what they were rushing toward, but we did. We saw it in Sam.

Rufus finished with a sigh. "We will do what we must, but the future is so uncertain."

As the fire crackled and cast dancing shadows on the walls, I felt a chill despite the warmth of the room. The weight of history reminds us we were not the first to face such dilemmas, nor will we be the last.

#

Earlier this evening, John and I took a long walk around Rufus’ property, the discussion of last evening still on our minds.

"What do you make of Joe's decision to dismiss the white workers?" I asked, breaking the contemplative silence.

John sighed, his breath forming brief, visible clouds. "It's a practical move, Louisa. With the uncertainty in the markets and the looming threat of war, we need to cut costs wherever we can. The slaves are... well, they're a fixed asset. We don't have to pay them wages, and that makes a significant difference in our expenses. At any rate, this was not my decision, but it is what Mr. Weldon considers is the right move and Joe agrees.”

I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. " These men have families. Where will they go?"

He stopped walking and turned to face me, his expression one of weary patience. "We didn't cast them out without a thought, Louisa. I wrote letters for each of them, recommending them to other employers who might be in a better position to hire. Daniel Pratt in Prattville is expanding, and he will likely take them on."

I remembered the faces of the workers and their families, people who had become a part of our extended community. The thought of them struggling, of their children going hungry, gnawed at me. "Temporary measures have a way of becoming permanent, John. What happens if the conflict drags on and the economic situation worsens?"

"We will adapt as we always have.” He resumed his walk, and I hurried to keep pace with him.

"But it's not just about the business,” I pressed, unwilling to let the matter rest. "It is about the choices we make and the lives we affect."

He slowed, then stopped again, his shoulders sagging as if under an immense weight. "Louisa, every decision we make has consequences. We are doing what we must to keep the enterprise afloat."

He believes what he stated and was trying to convince me as well.

"You always said that the business was a means to an end," I said quietly. "That it allowed us to provide for our family and to do some good in the world. Have we lost sight of that end, John?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching mine for understanding. "We are trying to do the best we can. These are difficult times, Louisa."