CHILDREN OF THE MARKET PLACE

by

EDGAR LEE MASTERS

1922

TO GEORGE P. BRETT

CHAPTER I

I was born in London on the eighteenth of June, 1815. The battle ofWaterloo was being fought as I entered this world. Thousands were givingup their lives at the moment that life was being bestowed upon me. Myfather was in that great battle. Would he ever return? My mother was buteighteen years of age. Anxiety for his safety, the exhaustion of givingme life prostrated her delicate constitution. She died as I was beingborn. 

I have always kept her picture beside me. I have always been bound toher by a tender and mystical love. During all the years of my life myfeeling for her could not have been more intense and personal if I hadhad the experience of daily association with her through boyhood andyouth. 

What girlish wistfulness and sadness there are in her eyes! What agentle smile is upon her lips, as if she would deny the deep forebodingof a spirit that peered into a perilous future! Her dark hair falls inrich strands over her forehead in an elfin and elegant disorder. Herslender throat rises gracefully from an unloosened collar. This picturewas made from a drawing done by a friend of my father's four monthsbefore I was born. My old nurse told me that he was invalided from thewar; that my father had asked him to make the drawing upon his return toLondon. Perhaps my father had ominous dreams of her ordeal soon to be. 

They pronounced me a fine boy. I was round faced, round bodied, wellnourished. The nurse read my horoscope in coffee grounds. I was tobecome a notable figure in the world. My mother's people took me incharge, glad to give me a place in their household. Here I was when myfather returned from the war, six months later. He had been wounded inthe battle of Waterloo. He was still weak and ill. I was told thesethings by my grandmother in the succeeding years. 

When I was four years old my father emigrated to America. I seem toremember him. I have asked my grandmother if he did not sing "AnnieLaurie"; if he did not dance and fling me toward the ceiling in a riotof playfulness; if he did not snuggle me under my tender chin and tickleme with his mustaches. She confirmed these seemingly recollectedepisodes. But of his face I have no memory. There is no picture of him. They told me that he was tall and strong, and ruddy of face; that mybeak nose is like his, my square forehead, my firm chin. After hereached America he wrote to me. I have the letters yet, written in alarge open hand, characteristic of an adventurous nature. Though he wasmy father, he was only a person in the world after all. I was surroundedby my mother's people. They spoke of him infrequently. What had he done?Did they disapprove his leaving England? Had he been kind to my mother?But all the while I had my mother's picture beside me. And mygrandmother spoke to me almost daily of her gentleness, herhigh-mindedness, her beauty, and her charm. 

I was raised in the English church. I was taught to adore Wellington, tohate Napoleon as an enemy of liberty, a usurper, a false emperor, amonster, a murderer. I was sent to Eton and to Oxford. I wasindoctrinated with the idea that there is a moral governance in theworld, that God rules over the affairs of men. I was taught thesethings, but I resisted them. I did not rebel so much as my mindnaturally proved impervious to these ideas. I read the _Iliad_ and the_Odyssey_ with passionate interest. They gave me a panoramic idea oflife, men, races, civilizations. They gave me understanding of Napoleon. What if he had sold the Louisiana territory to rebel America, and inorder to furnish that faithless nation with power to overcome England insome future crisis? Perhaps this very moral governance that I was taughtto believe in wished this to happen. But if the World Spirit be nothingbut the concurrent thinking of many peoples, as I grew to think, theWorld Spirit might irresistibly wish this American supremacy to be. 

And now at eighteen I am absorbed in dreams and studies at Oxford. Ihave many friends. My life is a delight. I arise from sleep with a song, and a bound. We play, we talk, we study, we discuss questions of allsorts infinitely. I take nothing for granted. I question everything, ofcourse in the privacy of my room or the room of my friends. I do notcare to be expelled. And in the midst of this charming life bad newscomes to me. My father is dead. He has left a large estate in Illinois. I must go there. At least my grandmother thinks it is best. And so myschool days end. Yet I am only eighteen!

CHAPTER II

I am eighteen and the year is 1833. All of Europe is in a ferment, isbubbling over in places. Napoleon has been hearsed for twelve years inSt. Helena. But the principles of the French Revolution are working. Charles is king of France, but by the will of the nation first and bythe grace of God afterward. There is no republic there; but thesovereignty of the people, the prime principle of the French Revolution, has founded the right of Charles to rule.... And what of England? Foxhad rejoiced at the fall of the Bastille. Coleridge, Wordsworth, andSouthey had sung of liberty, exulting in the emancipation of peoplesfrom tyranny. Then they had changed. Liberalism had come under the heelagain. Revolution was feared and denounced. Liberal principles werecrushed.... But not for long. We students read Shelley and Byron. Theywere now gone from earth, eleven and nine years respectively. They hadnot altered their faith, dying in the heyday of youthful power. Wouldthey have changed at any age to which they might have lived? We believedthey would not have done so. But what of England? It is 1833 and thereform bill is a year old. The rotten boroughs are abolished. There is asemblance of democratic representation in Parliament. The Duke ofWellington has suffered a decline in popularity. Italy is rising, forMazzini has come upon the scene. Germany is fighting the influence ofMetternich. We students are flapping our young wings. A great day isdawning for the world. And I am off to America!

What is stirring there? I am bound for the Middle West of that greatland. What is it like? Shall I ever return? What will my life be? Theseare my reflections as I prepare to sail. 

I take passage on the _Columbia and Caledonia_. She is built of wood andis 200 feet long from taffrail to fore edge of stem. Her beam is 34-1/2feet. She has a gross tonnage of 520 tons. She can sail in favorableweather at a speed of 12 knots an hour. I laughed at all this when, something more than twenty years after, I crossed on the _Persia_, 376feet long, of 3500 tonnage, and making a speed of nearly 14 knots anhour, with her 4000-horse-power engines. 

It is April. The sea is rough. We are no sooner under way than the heavyswell of the waves tosses the boat like a chip. The prow dips down intogreat valleys of glassy water. The stern tips high in the air against anangry sky. The shoulders of the sea bump under the poop of the boat, andshe trembles like a frightened horse under its rider. I have books toread. My grandmother has provided me with many things for my comfort anddelight. But I cannot eat, not until during the end of the voyage. I liein a little stateroom, which I share with an American. He persists intalking to me, even at night when I am trying to sleep. He tells me ofAmerica. His home is New York City. He has been as far west as Buffalo. He gives me long descriptions of the Hudson River, and the boats on itthat run to Albany. He talks of America in terms of extravagant eulogy. The country is free. It has no king. The people rule. I have read alittle and heard something of America. At Oxford we students hadwondered at the anomaly of a republic maintaining the institution ofslavery. I asked him about this. He said that it did not involve anycontradiction; that the United States was founded by white men for whitemen; that negroes were a lower order of beings; that their servitude wasjustified by the Bible; that a majority of the clergy and the churchesof the country approved of the institution; that the slaves were welltreated, much better housed and fed than the workers of Europe; betterthan the free laborers even in America. His thesis was that the businessof life was the obtaining of the means of life; that all the uprisingsin Europe, the French Revolution included, were inspired by hunger; thatthe struggle for existence was bound to produce oppression; that thestrong would use and control the weak, make them work, keep them in astate where they could be worked. All this for trade. He topped off thisanalysis with the remark that negro slavery was a benign institution, exactly in line with the processes of the business of life; that it hadbeen lied about by a growing fanaticism in the States; New York hadalways been in sympathy, for the most part with the Southern States, where slavery was a necessary institution to the climate and the cottonindustry. He went on to tell me that about a year before a maniacalcobbler named William Lloyd Garrison had started a little paper called_The Liberator_ in which he advocated slave insurrections and theoverthrow of the laws sustaining slavery; and that a movement was now onfoot in New England to found the American Anti-Slavery Society. And thatJohn Quincy Adams, once President, but now a senile intermeddler, hadbeen presenting petitions in Congress from various constituencies forthe abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia. This would befinally squelched, he thought. New England had always demanded a tariffin order to foster her industries, and that policy trenched on therights of the states not needing and not wanting a tariff. While slaverydid not in any way harm New England, she intermeddled in a mood of moralfanaticism. 

I was much interested in these revelations by Mr. Yarnell, for such washis name.... One morning we began to sense land. We had been about threeweeks on the water. We were nearing the harbor of New York. 

CHAPTER III

Yarnell was a man of about thirty. He seemed very mature to me. In facthe was quite a man of the world. I had told him my destination, andasked him how best to reach it. He had given me some information, but itwas not wholly clear. He advised me to ask for direction at the FranklinHouse, which he recommended to me as a comfortable hotel. 

As we came into the harbor we stood on the deck together while hepointed out the places of interest. I was thrilled with its beauty andits extent. The day was mild. A fresh breeze was blowing. May cloudsfloated swiftly in the clear sky. I felt my blood course electrically inexpectation of the wonders of New York. It was now lying before me inall its color and mystery. Boats of all kinds passed us. There was atangled thicket of masts at the piers. I discerned gay awnings over awalk around a building near the water. Yarnell said this was CastleGarden, where many diners came for the excellence of the food and theview of the harbor. I could begin to see up the streets of the citybeyond the Battery. But there was a riot of stir and activity, inexpectation of our boat. 

I disembarked and hired a hack. I was traveling with a huge valise. This the hackman took for me. Yarnell came up to bid me adieu, promisingto call upon me at the Franklin House. The fare was twenty-five cents amile. The hotel was at 197 Broadway. Was it more than a mile? I did notknow. I was charged fifty cents for the trip. I was not stinted formoney, and it did not matter. I paid the amount demanded, and walkedinto the hotel. 

How simple things are at the end of a journey and a daily restlessnessto arrive! My valise was taken to my room. I went with the negro porter. I looked from my window out upon Broadway. The porter departed. The doorwas closed. My journey to New York was over. I was alone. I began towish for Yarnell, wish to be back upon the boat. Above all I began tosense the distance that separated me from England and those I loved. Here was the afternoon on my hands. Should I not see something of thecity? When should I start west? I took from my pocket the letter writtenfrom Illinois by the lawyer, who had advised this journey and mypresence at Jacksonville, for that was the town where my father's estatewas to be settled. For the first time I was conscious of the fact thatdifficulties probably stood in my way. The letter read: "Claims arelikely to be made against the estate that require your personalattention. " What could it mean? Why had my grandmother said nothing tome of this? She had seen the letter. I began to wonder. But to fightdown my growing loneliness I started out to see the city. 

As I passed up the street I bought _Valentine's Manual_ and glanced atit as I walked. How far up did the city extend? The manual said morethan thirteen miles. I could not make that distance before dark. Apasserby said that there was a horse railway running as far as MurrayHill. But I strode on, arriving in a little while at Washington Square. Beyond this I could see that the city did not present the appearance ofbeing greatly built. On my way I passed the gas works, the City Hall, many banks, several circulating libraries, saw the signs of almostinnumerable insurance companies. But the people! They were all strangeto me. So many negroes. My manual said there were over 14, 000 negroes inthe city, which, added to the white population, made an aggregate ofmore than 200, 000 souls. I sat for a while in the Park and then retracedmy steps. 

On my way back I stopped at Niblo's Garden at Broadway and PrinceStreet. It was a gay place. People were feasting upon oysters, drinking, laughing, talking over the affairs of the day. Here I partook of oystersfor the first time in my life. I walked through the grounds, looking atthe flowers. I stared about at the splendor of the paintings and themirrors in the rooms. Then like a ghost I resumed my way to my hotel. Why? There was nothing there to call me back. Yet it was the only home Ihad, and the evening was coming on. 

Instead of stopping at the hotel, I went on to Castle Garden. I decidedto dine there. I could look over the harbor and the ships. It was a wayto put myself in touch with England, to travel back over the way I hadcome. I found a table and ordered a meal. 

I became conscious of the fact that the captain of the _Columbia andCaledonia_ was at a near table with a gay party. They had wine, andthere was much merriment. This abandonment was in contrast to theserious, almost dark spirit of a party at another table. This wascomposed of men entirely. I had never seen such faces before. Their hairwas long. They wore goatees. They were strangely dressed. They talkedwith a broad accent. Excitement and anger rose in their voices. Theywere denouncing President Jackson. The matter seemed to be a force bill, the tariff imposed by New England's enterprise, the duty of the SouthernStates to resist it. They were insisting that there was no warrant topass a tariff law, that it was clearly a breach of the Constitution, andthat it should be resisted to the death. There was bitter cursing ofYankees, of the greed of New England, of its disregard of the rights ofthe South.... But out upon the harbor the sea gulls were drifting. Icould hear the slapping of the waves against the rocks. And in the midstof this the orchestra began to play "Annie Laurie. " The tears came to myeyes. I arose and left the place. My mind turned to a theater as a meansof relief to these pressing thoughts. I consulted my manual, and startedfor the American theater. It was described as an example of Doricarchitecture, modeled after the temple of Minerva at Athens. I found iton the Bowery and Elizabeth Street, bought a ticket for seventy-fivecents and entered. The play was _Othello_, and I had never seen itbefore. 

I could not help but overhear and follow the conversation of the peoplewho sat next to me. They were wondering what moved Shakespeare to depictthe story of a black man married to a white woman. Could such a theme bedramatized now? How could a woman, fair and high-bred, become the wifeof a sooty creature like Othello? Was it real? If not real, what wasShakespeare trying to do? And much more to the same effect, togetherwith remarks about negroes and that slavery should be let alone by NewEngland, and by everyone else. 

The play was dreary to me, played listlessly where it was not ranted andtorn to tatters. I sat it through and then went back to my hotel.... Theloneliness of that room as I entered it has never left my memory. Forlong hours I did not sleep. The city had 600 night watch, so the manualsaid, and I could hear some of them going their rounds. At last ... Iawoke and it was morning. I awoke with a sense of delight in thestrength and vitality which sleep had restored to me.... I went belowto breakfast and to find the way to travel to Illinois. 

CHAPTER IV

The clerk of the hotel told me that the best route was by way of Albany, the canal, the Great Lakes to Chicago; that when I got there I wouldlikely find a boat or stage service to Jacksonville. I could leave atnoon for Albany if I wished. Accordingly, I made ready to do so. 

I was entranced with the river boat. It was longer than the _Columbiaand Caledonia_. And it was propelled by steam. It had the most enormouswheels. And no sooner were we under way than I found that we weregliding along at the rate of twenty miles an hour. The swiftly passinghills and palisades of the Hudson served to mark our speed. There weregreat saloons, lovely awnings under which to read or lounge, promenadedecks. And there was a gay and well-behaved crowd of passengers.... Atdinner we were seated at long tables, and served with every luxury. Andthe whole journey cost me less than seven shillings. 

On arriving at Albany that night at about nine o'clock I found myself inthe best of luck. I could get passage on a canal boat the next morningfor Buffalo; rather I was permitted to sleep on board.... I got on andretired. I awoke just as the boat was beginning to start. I had neverseen anything like this before. The boat was narrow, sharp, gaylypainted. It was drawn by three horses, each ridden by a boy who urgedthe horses forward. We traveled at the great speed of five miles anhour. 

But it was delightful. We were more than three days going from Albany toBuffalo. The time was well spent. The scenery was varied and beautiful. All the while we were climbing, for Lake Erie, to which we had to belifted, was much above us. We went through lovely valleys; we ran besideglistening streams and rivers; we wound around hills. The farms werelarge and prosperous. The villages were new, fresh with white paint andgreen blinds, hidden among flowers and shrubbery. 

You see, I am eighteen and these external objects realize my dreams andstimulate them. I do not know these people. They are frank, talkative, often vulgar and presuming. But they are friendly. There is muchmerriment on board, for we have to dodge down frequently to save ourheads from the bridges which the farmers build right across the canal. The ladies have to be warned and assisted. There are narrow escapes andshouts of laughter. And when the dinner bell is rung by a comical negroevery one rushes for the dining room. I am introduced again to theAmerican oyster, raw, fried, and stewed. It is the most delicious ofdiscoveries among the new viands. Then we have wonderful roast turkey, chicken, and the greatest variety of vegetables and sweets. I am keepinga daily record of events and impressions to mail to my dear grandmotherwhen I shall arrive at Buffalo.... 

Sometimes I get tired of the boat. Then I go on land and run along thepath behind the horses. A young woman on her way to Michigan to teachschool joins me in these reliefs from the tedium of the boat. Weexchange a few words. But I see that I am not old enough for her. I havealready observed her in confiding conversation with a man about the ageof Yarnell. And soon they go together to trot along the path, to strayoff a little into the meadows, or at the base of the picturesquehills.... I am interested in the talk of the passengers, and cannotchoose but follow it at times.... One man has been reading the _NewYorker_, printed by H. Greeley and Company. I learn that Horace Greeleyis his full name, and he comes in for a berating at the hands of a manwith one of the characteristic goatees that I first observed at CastleGarden. The Whigs! I had always associated this party withlatitudinarian principles. Now I hear it called a centralist party, amonarchist party. A voluble man, who chews tobacco, curses it as a maskfor the old Federalist party, which tried to corrupt America with theBritish system, after it had failed as a combination of Loyalists tokeep America under the dominion of Great Britain.... This is all a mazeto me, at least so far as the American application is concerned. Thenthe man with the goatee assails New England, and calls her the devoteeof the soured gospel of envy which covers its wolf face of hate with thelamb's decapitated head of universal brotherhood and slavery abolition. Surely there is much strife in America.... Also again PresidentJackson, the tariff, and the force bill! And will South Carolina secedefrom the Union on account of the unjust and lawless tariff? New Englandtried to secede once when the run of affairs did not suit her. Why notSouth Carolina, then, if she chooses? Another man is reading a book ofpoems and talking at intervals to a companion. I hear him say that a Mr. Willis is one of the world's greatest poets. I glance at the book andsee the name Nathaniel Parker Willis. Also it seems Willis is the editorof one of the world's greatest literary journals. It is published in NewYork and is called the _New York Mirror_.... It is all so strange. Is ittrue that in this country, so far from England, there are men who arethe equals of Shelley and Byron, or of Tennyson, whose first book hasgiven me such delight recently?... 

We near the journey's end. At Lockport we are lifted up the precipiceover which the Falls of Niagara pour some miles distant. We are now on alevel with Lake Erie, to which we have climbed by many locks and liftsover the hills since we left Albany. Soon we travel along the side ofthe Niagara River; quickly we drift into Buffalo. 

CHAPTER V

Buffalo, they told me, had about 15, 000 people. I wished to seesomething of it before departing for the farther west. For should I evercome this way again? I started from the dock, but immediately foundmyself surrounded by runners and touters lauding the excellences of theboats to which they were attached. The harbor was full of steamboatscompeting for trade.... They rang bells, let off steam, whistled. Bandsplayed. Negroes ran here and there, carrying freight and baggage. Theair was vibrating with yells and profanity.... But I made my escape andwalked through the town. It had broad streets, lovely squares, substantial and attractive buildings and residences. And there was LakeErie, blue and fresh, rippling under the brilliant May sun. I had neverseen anything remotely approximating Lake Erie.... "How large is it?" Iinquired of a passerby. I was told that it was 60 miles wide and 250miles long. Could it be true? Was there anything in all of Europe toequal it? I could not for the moment remember the extent of the CaspianSea. And I stood in wonder and delight. 

As I left the dock for my walk I had observed the name _Illinois_ on aboat that had all the appearances of being brand new. I walked leisurelytoward the dock so as to avoid the touters as much as possible while Iwas overlooking the boat. I liked it, but would it take me to Chicago?The gangplank was lying on the dock and near it stood what seemed to meto be the captain and the pilot, around them touters and others. I edgedaround to the captain and asked him if the _Illinois_ would take me toChicago. "In about an hour, " he said with a laugh. Immediately I wasbesieged by the runners to help me on, to get my baggage, to serve me inall possible ways. I couldn't hire all of them. I chose one, who got myvalise for me, and I went aboard. 

It was a new boat, and this was its maiden trip. All the stewards, negroes, waiters were brisk and obliging, and bent on making the trip anevent. The captain gave parties. He was a bluff, kindly man, who mingledmuch with favorite passengers. Wine flowed freely. The food was abundantand delicious. We had dances by moonlight on the deck. A band played atdinner and at night. The boat was distinguished for many quaint andinteresting characters. I enjoyed it all, but made no friends. I did notunderstand this free and easy manner of life. The captain noted me, andasked if I was well placed and comfortable. Various people openedconversations with me. But I was shy, and I was English. I could notunbend. I did not desire to do so. 

We docked at Erie and at Cleveland, both small places. We came toDetroit, the capital of Michigan. On the way some one pointed out thescene of Perry's victory over the hated British. We passed into LakeHuron. 

Then later I was privileged to see Mackinac, an Indian trading post. Iviewed the smoking wigwams from the deck of the _Illinois_. Here werethe savages buying powder, blankets, and whisky. The squaws were sellingbeaded shoes. The shore was wooded and high.... I looked below into thecrystalline depths of the water. I could see great fish swimming in thetransparent calms, which mirrored the clouds, the forests, and the boatsand canoes of the Indians.... We ran down to Green Bay, Wisconsin. Heretoo there were Indian traders.... We went on to Milwaukee. As there wasno harbor here a small steamer came out to take us off. I went ashorewith some others. A creek flowed from the land to the lake. But the townwas nothing. Only a storehouse and a few wooden buildings. Soon weproceeded to Chicago. I was told that the northern boundary of Illinoishad been pushed north, in order to give the state the southern shores ofthe great lake, with the idea of capturing a part of the emigration andtrade of the East. This fact eventually influenced my life, and thehistory of the nation, as will be seen. 

Chicago had been a trading post, and to an extent was yet. Thepopulation was less than 1000 people. There was a fort here, too, builtin place of one which had been destroyed in a massacre by the Indians. There was much activity here, particularly in land speculation. Not ahalf mile from the place where we landed there was a forest where someIndians were camping. I heard that an Indian war was just over. TheBlack Hawks had been defeated and driven off. But some friendly remnantsof other breeds were loitering about the town. 

Carrying my valise, I began to look for a hotel for the night. Also, howand when was I to get to Jacksonville? A man came by. I hailed him andasked to be driven to a hotel. He walked with me north toward the river, past the fort and landed me at a hostelry built partly of logs andpartly of frames. Surely this was not New York or Buffalo! As I came tothe hotel I saw a man standing at the door, holding the bridle bits ofan Indian pony. He came into the hotel soon, evidently after disposingof his charge. At that moment I was asking Mr. Wentworth, the hotelmanager, how to get to Jacksonville. The man came forward and in thekindest of voices interrupted to tell me what the manager evidentlycould not. "I am going there myself to-morrow, " he said. "You can ridebehind. The pony can carry both of us. " I looked at my new-found friend. He had deep blue eyes, a noble face, a musical and kindly voice. Helooked like the people I had known in England. I was drawn to him atonce in confidence and friendship. He went on to tell me later that hehad been in the Black Hawk War; that he had been spending some time inChicago trying to decide whether he would locate there or return toJacksonville. He had been offered forty acres of land about a mile southof the river for the pony. But what good was the land? It was nothingbut sand and scrub oaks. Unless the town grew and made the landvaluable as building property, it would never be of value. For farmingit was worthless. But around Jacksonville the soil was incomparablyfertile and beautiful. He had decided, therefore, to return toJacksonville. His eyes deepened. "You see that I am attached to thatcountry. " He smiled. "Yes, I must go back. Some one is waiting for me. You are heartily welcome to ride behind. " How long would it take? Amatter of five days. Meanwhile he had told me how to reach thereindependently: by stage to a place 90 miles south on the Illinois River, then by boat to a town on the river called Bath, then cross country toJacksonville. I began to balance the respective disadvantages. "My nameis Reverdy Clayton, " he said, extending his hand in the most cordialway. I could not resist him. "My name is James Miles, " I returned withsome diffidence. "James Miles, " he echoed. "James Miles ... There was aman of that name in Jacksonville, poor fellow ... Now gone. " "Perhaps hewas my father ... Did you know my father?" I felt a thrill go throughme. Was this new-found acquaintance before me a friend of my father's?It turned out to be so. But why "poor fellow"?

Clayton was not over thirty-two, therefore my father's junior by someyears. How well had they known each other? We went to dinner together. We were served with bacon and greens, strong coffee, apple pie. It wasall very rough and strange. But Clayton told me many things. He knew thelawyer Brooks who had written me. Brooks was a reliable man. But when Ipressed Clayton for details about my father he grew strangely reticent. I began to feel depressed, overcome by a foreboding of wonder. 

After dinner we separated. Clayton had errands to do preparatory toleaving and I went forth to see the town. What a spectacle of undulatingboard sidewalks built over swales of sand, running from hillock tohillock! What shacks used for stores, trading offices, marts for realestate! Truly it was a place as if built in a night, relieved but littleby buildings of a more substantial sort.... Drinking saloons wereeverywhere. I heard music and entered one of these resorts. There was abarroom in front and a dancing room in the rear. The place was filledwith sailors, steamboat captains and pilots, traders, roisterers, clerks, hackmen, and undescribed characters. Women mingled with the menand drank with them. They dressed with conspicuous abandon, in loudcolors. Their faces were rouged. They ran in and out of the dance roomwith escorts or without, stood at the bar for drinks, entwined theirarms with those of the men. In the dance room a band was playing. A manwith a tambourine added to the hilarity of the music. It was a wildspectacle, unlike anything I had ever seen. No one accosted me. I couldfeel a different spirit in the crowd from that I had seen on the boatsor in New York. There was no talk of politics, negroes, force bills. They did not seem to know or to care about these things. It was a wildassemblage, but without meanness or malice. They were occupied solelywith a spirit of carnival, of dancing, drinking, of talk about thearrival of the _Illinois_; about the price of land and the great futureof Chicago. "It's as plain as day, " said a man at the bar. "Here we areat the foot of the lake. The trade comes our way. The steamboats comehere from the East. Look at the country! No such farm country in theworld! Why, in twenty years this town will have a population of 20, 000people. It's bound to. " How could it be? How could such a locality everbe the seat of a city? So far from the East. And nothing here but wastesof sand!

I left the place unnoticed and returned to the hotel. I sat downdrearily enough. The feeling that I was far from home, far even from thecivilization and the charm of New York came over me with depressingeffect. I began to wish that Clayton would appear. I had not decided toaccept his kindly offer. I must be off to-morrow. The air seemedoppressive. Was it so warm? I put my hand to my brow. It was hot. Perhaps I was not well. The trip I had just ended was after allwearisome. I had not slept well some nights. I sensed that I wasfatigued. What would a ride of more than 200 miles on a pony do to me?But on the other hand I had the alternative of 90 miles by stage. Forthe first time I began to feel apprehension about the days ahead. 

While I was thinking these matters over Clayton came in. He supplementedmy doubts by telling me that if I was not used to riding, a journey ofsuch length would make me lame; at least a little. I then decided thatI would take the stage, and the boat. The next morning, promising to seeme in Jacksonville and offering to befriend me in any way he could, Clayton bestrode his pony and was off. In an hour I was rolling in thestage toward the Illinois River.... 

CHAPTER VI

We were some hours getting through the sand. Then we came to hillycountry overgrown with oaks and some pines. Later the soil was rocky. Weskirted along a little river; and here and there I had my first view ofthe prairie. The air above me was thrilling with the song of springbirds. I did not know what they were. Some of them resembled the Englishskylark in the habit of singing and soaring. But the note was different. 

My head felt heavy. I seemed to be growing more listless. But I couldnot help but note the prairie: the limitless expanse of heavy grass, here and there brightened by brilliant blossoms. All the houses alongthe way were built of logs. The inhabitants were a large breed for themost part, tall and angular, dressed sometimes in buckskin, coonskincaps. Now and then I saw a hunter carrying a long rifle. The wild geesewere flying.... 

Some of the passengers were dressed in jeans; others in linsey-woolseydyed blue. As we stopped along the way I had an opportunity to study thefaces of the Illinoisians. Their jaws were thin, their eyes, deeplysunk, had a far-away melancholy in them. They were swarthy. Their voiceswere keyed to a drawl. They sprawled, were free and easy in theirmovements. They told racy stories, laughed immoderately, chewed tobacco. Some of the passengers were drinking whisky, which was procured anywherealong the way, at taverns or stores. The stage rolled from side to side. The driver kept cracking his whip, but without often touching thehorses, which kept an even pace hour after hour. We had to stop formeals. But the heavy food turned my stomach. I could not relish thecornbread, the bacon or ham, the heavy pie. When we reached La Salle, where I was to get the boat, I found myself very fatigued, aching allthrough my flesh and bones, and with a dreamy, heavy sensation about myeyes. 

The country had become more hilly. And now the bluffs along the IllinoisRiver rose with something of the majesty of the Palisades of the Hudson. The river itself was not nearly so broad or noble, but it was notwithout beauty.... More oblivious of my surroundings than I had beenbefore, I boarded _The Post Boy_, a stern wheeler, and in a few minutesshe blew the most musical of whistles and we were off.... 

The vision of hills and prairies around me harmonized with the dreamysensations that filled my heavy head and tired body. I sat on deck andviewed it all. I did not go to the table. The very smell of the foodnauseated me. I do not remember how I got to bed, nor how long I wasthere. I remember being brought to by a negro porter who told me that wewere approaching Bath where I was to get off. I heard him say to anotherporter: "That boy is sure sick. " And then a tall spare man came to me, told me that he was taking the stage as I was, and was going almost toJacksonville, and that he would see me through. He helped me in thestage and we started. I remember nothing further.... 

I became conscious of parti-colored ribbons fluttering from my body asif blown by a rapid breeze from a central point of fixture in my breast. Was it the life going out of me, or the life clinging to me in spite ofthe airs of eternity? My eyes opened. I saw standing at the foot of thebed, an octoroon about fourteen years of age. She was staring at me withanxious and sympathetic eyes, in which there was also a light of terror. I tried to lift my hands. I could not. I was unable to turn my body. Iwas completely helpless. I looked about the room. It was small, paperedin a figure of blue. Two windows stared me in the face. "Where am I?" Iasked. "Yo's in Miss Spurgeon's house ... Yo's in good hands. " At thatmoment Miss Spurgeon entered. She was slender, graceful. Her hair wasvery black. Her eyes gray and hazel. Her nose delicate and exquisitelyshaped. She put her hand on my brow and in a voice which had a musicalquaver, she said: "I believe the fever has left you. Yes, it has. Wouldyou like something to eat?" I was famished and said: "Yes, something, ifyou please. " She went out, returning with some gruel. Turning to theoctoroon she said: "Will you feed him, Zoe?" And Zoe came to the chairby the bed and fed me, for I could not lift a hand. Then I fell into arefreshing sleep. I had been ill of typhoid. Had I contracted it fromthe oysters, or from food on the steamer? But I had been saved. MissSpurgeon had refused to let the doctor bleed me. She believed thatcareful nursing would suffice, and she had brought me through. But I hada relapse. I was allowed to eat what I craved. I indulged my inordinatehunger, and came nearer to death than with the fever itself. But fromthis I rallied by the strength of my youth and a great vitality. All thewhile Zoe and Miss Spurgeon watched over me with the most tender care. And one day I came out of a sleep to find Reverdy Clayton by the bed. 

A father could not have looked at me with more solicitude. His voice wasgrave and tender. His eyes bright with sympathy. "You will soon be wellagain, " he said. He took my hand, sat down by me, cautioned me not toworry about my business affairs, told me that nothing would happenadverse to my interests while I was incapacitated, that Mr. Brooks wasguarding my affairs and that they were not in peril.... And it turnedout that Miss Spurgeon was his fiancée, that it was to her that he hadreturned from Chicago. They were soon now to be married. I asked him ifZoe was a slave. He laughed at this. "No one born in Illinois is aslave, " he said. "This is a free country. Zoe was born here. "

Miss Spurgeon came in and I could now see them side by side. They seemedso kind and noble hearted, so suited to each other. I loved both ofthem. 

I was stronger now, was sitting up part of each day. I reached out myhands and took their hands, bringing them together in a significantcontact. Miss Spurgeon bent over me, placing a kiss upon my brow. "Youare a dear boy, " she said. And Reverdy said: "The Lord keep you always, son. " Their eyes showed the tears, and as for me my cheeks were suddenlywet. Then from what they said I learned that Reverdy had been gone manymonths, that Sarah, for that was her name, had been in great anxiety, that Reverdy had just got out of the service the morning I had seen himin Chicago; and that he had speculated on staying there a while for thepurpose of improving his fortune with a view to his marriage. But nowhaving returned, they were to be married soon. What had been the delaythus far? They were waiting for me to get well. I had interfered, nodoubt, with the wedding plans, with the arranging and ordering of thehouse for the wedding. But they said they wished me to be present. Sarahthought there was something well omened in my meeting with Reverdy inChicago, and in the fate that had brought me to her house, and shewished to fulfill the happy auspices to the end by having me for thechief guest at the wedding. But how had I come to this household?

The stranger who had helped me on the boat at Bath had turned me over toa young man named Douglas who had brought me here, because of the poorcomforts at the inn of Jacksonville. Douglas had been here but a fewmonths himself, having come from the state of Vermont. He, too, hadbeen ill of the same disease; had been confined under wretchedcircumstances at Cleveland on his way west; had nearly died. When he sawme he was moved to do the very best for me. He had brought me to MissSpurgeon's and pleaded with her to take me in. And she had consented tothe ordeal of my care, because Zoe insisted upon it, offering to takethe burden of waiting upon me and watching over me. The Spurgeon housewas quite the best in this town of 1000 people. Sarah's father andmother were both dead, and she was living here with a grandmother, awoman now of more than eighty, whom I did not see until I began to goabout the house.... Meantime Zoe's face and manner became clearer to meday by day. She was not very darkly hued, rather lighter than the HindusI had seen in England. Her hair was abundant and straight. Her lips werefull but shapely. Her nose rather of a Caucasian type. Her voice was themost musical one could imagine. And she sang--she sang "Annie Laurie" attimes in a voice which thrilled me. There was grace in her carriage, charm in her gestures and movements. And she waited upon me with theaffection of a sister. 

As I grew better Mr. Brooks came to call upon me. And at last I went tohis office to talk over the matter of my father's estate. It was nowJuly and the heat was more terrible than I had ever conceived couldprevail outside of a tropical country. 

CHAPTER VII

Sarah and Zoe followed me to the door the morning I went to see Mr. Brooks. Cholera had descended upon the community and they begged me togo to Mr. Brooks' office and return at once, and not to be in the sunany more than was necessary. I had no fear. Having come from so seriousan illness I did not feel that another malady would attack me soon. As Iwalked along I could see that the boundless prairie was around me. Iinhaled the spaciousness of the scene. I could see the deep woods whichstood beyond the rich prairies of tall and heavy grass. The town wasbuilt roughly of hewn logs. It was like a camp of hastily constructedshacks. But a college had already been founded. It had two buildings, one of logs and one of brick. I looked back to see that the Spurgeonhouse was substantially built, with care and taste.... Mr. Brooks'office was in one of the log structures about the square. One entered itfrom the street. I counted the signs of eleven lawyers on my way. Thetavern where I had stayed, except for Douglas and Miss Spurgeon, was amost uninviting place. 

Mr. Brooks sat behind a rude table. Back of him on a wall were aportrait of Washington and a map of Illinois. On the table there was alaw book of some sort. Altogether there were three chairs in the room. The floor was made of puncheon boards, and was bare. Flies buzzed in theair and at the rude windows. I felt strong when I left the house. Now Iwas not sure how long I should feel so. Mr. Brooks invited me to have aseat; and after a few words about the heat and the cholera he began totell me stories of the people and the country. "Some years ago, " hesaid, "a man came to this country, I mean over around the river countrywhich you saw when you took the steamboat at Bath. He didn't haveanything, but he was ambitious to be rich. How could he do it? Well, you can work and buy land with your savings, and land here under theHomestead Act has been $1. 25 an acre since 1820; still that may not putyou ahead very fast. And if you're ambitious you want to get rich quick. That's the way every one here feels who is bent on getting rich. Moneyis not as plentiful as land; and if land is only $1. 25 an acre it takes$800 to get a section. That's a lot of money to a man who has nothing. This land around here is rich as the valley of the Nile. It is six feetor more of black fertility. I'll bet that some say it will be worth $50an acre. "

I began to wonder why these Americans talk so much. I had observed iteverywhere. Here I was come on a matter of business, of my father'sestate; and the lawyer with whom I was forced to deal was talking to meinterminably of things that had nothing to do with it. But I was youngand strange, and not very strong; and it did not occur to me to showimpatience with him. And so he went on. 

"This man was fine to look at, prepossessing and engaging. He lookedlike a driver, a man of his word too. And one day when he was standingon the street here he was approached by a stranger who began to get himinto conversation. You see, we don't have slavery here as a regularthing. The negroes are sort o' apprenticed--free but apprenticed. Butunder pretty severe laws, have to be registered, can't testify, and soforth. This state is part of the Northwest Territory which was made freeby the old Confederate States in 1787; but we actually had an electionhere eleven years ago to make it slave. And the people voted it free. Anyhow we have negroes here; and the people are from Tennessee, Kentucky, Virginia, and the Carolinas where they do have slavery, andwe're all beginnin' to be scared over the agitation. Now this strangerwas a Southerner and any one could see he was; but of course didn't lookdifferent from some of our own people. So this stranger began to talk tothis man and ask him if he was married, and he wasn't; and asked him ifhe would like to make some money, which of course he did. 

"And finally the stranger said that he had a daughter that he would liketo introduce, and asked this man to come with him a mile or so, and ifhe liked the girl he would pay him to marry her. They started off andfound the girl. She was a mulatto or octoroon as they say, and aspretty as a red wagon. You see the stranger was pure white and from NewOrleans; but the mother of the girl was a slave and they say kind ofcoffee colored. And the upshot of it was that the stranger offered thisman $2500 to marry the octoroon. What he wanted to do was to place herwell. He didn't want her to run the chance of ever being a slave, as shemight be in the South. He was her father and he naturally had a father'sfeeling for her, even if she was an octoroon. And this stranger saidthat he had been around town and the country for some days looking atprospective husbands and making some inquiry, and that he had found noone to equal this man. The man liked the octoroon, the octoroon likedthe man. And they struck a bargain. The man got his $2500; he marriedthe girl on the spot. The stranger disappeared, and was never seen orheard of again. It all happened right there. The man bought land, he gotrich. He was one of the best men I ever knew, and one of my bestfriends. The octoroon died in childbirth, leaving a daughter stillliving and in this town. The man died recently. His name was JamesMiles. He was your father. And Zoe is your half-sister, and wants toshare in the estate, and that's why I sent for you. "

The flies began a louder buzzing at the window. The heat had increased. I looked through the open door and saw a man fall over, whether fromheat or cholera I could not tell. I was by now weary and faint. I said:"I do not know what to say now. If we can agree, I mean if we areallowed to agree, Zoe and I will have no trouble. I am getting faint. And I shall come again. " With that I arose and walked weakly from theroom. 

CHAPTER VIII

What were my thoughts after all? Was I ashamed of my kinship with Zoe?With this human being who had nursed me so tenderly through my illness?Did I begrudge her the interest which she had, of right, with me in ourfather's estate? She was as closely connected to him by ties of blood asI was. These things I reflected upon as I felt course through me a deepundercurrent of regret. 

Was it my mother? Her face came before me as I had learned to know itfrom her picture. Yes, that seemed to be it. My mother had not beenhonored. How could my father for any ambition, for any exigency ofcircumstance stoop to a marriage of this sort, with the memory of mymother still fresh in mind, if not in heart? Ah! that was it! Did hekeep her in his heart? My grandmother's reticence about my father beganto fill in with significance of this sort. She knew that he had marriedthe octoroon not many years after my mother's death. She resented it andshe preserved silence about him, while keeping me ignorant. Thus withoutany preparation for the disclosure, I had encountered it at full speedin my career. Reverdy had, no doubt, alluded to this matter when hespoke with such feeling of my father in Chicago. "Poor fellow, " he hadsaid. Did my father suffer for this marriage? What was his secret? Why"poor fellow?"

With these thoughts I entered the house. I could sense that they knewthat I should return with the secret which they had kept from me. Zoewas not in sight. Sarah's grandmother sat in her chair by the windowand called me to her. "Come here, Jimmy, " she said. "You're a niceEnglish boy. You know we are all English. My father and mother wereEnglish ... Well, to be truthful, my father was half Irish. His motherwas Irish. And that makes us all friends, no matter how much we fight. Wefight and get over it. My husband was in the Revolutionary War; and he'sdead and gone long ago; and here I am in this new country of Illinoiswith Sarah and a son-in-law soon to be ... And maybe as lonely sometimesas you are. Sarah's mother was my pride and she's dead a long time too, but I don't get over that.... What's the matter, Jimmy? You've had badnews. O, yes, it had to come. You know now about Zoe. Well, remember thatpretty is as pretty does. For that matter, she is pretty enough, andgood enough too. Change her skin and any boy would be proud to be herbrother. That's what a little color does. And yet the good Lord made usall, white as well as black. I have always liked the colored people. Iliked them in Tennessee, and I hated to see them mistreated wheneverthey were. But I'm like a lot of others, I don't know what we are goingto do with so many of them; and I say let the southern people run theirown business and not try to intermeddle in the business of the Almighty. If He hadn't wanted slavery He could have prevented it. As for me, Idon't want no slaves. Every one to his own way. Reverdy's father camedown from Tennessee too. He emancipated all his slaves before coming. Hegrew to hate slavery. He brought one old nigger woman with him toIllinois. She's here yet, on a farm not more than fifteen miles away. And Reverdy's father provided for her, and left a little fortune toReverdy ... More than $600, and that gives him a start. "

The old lady talked on in this manner without a pause. 

Just then Reverdy and Sarah came in. They had been for a walk. Sarahhad gathered a bouquet of wild flowers. They took in the scene, evidentlydivined the subject of our talk. For Reverdy sat down and began withgentleness to pick up its threads. "You have been told, James, I hope, that Zoe is not trying to take anything from you. She will make no fighton your father's will. " ... "Will, " I echoed. "There was a will then?""Didn't Mr. Brooks tell you?" ... He hadn't told me. He had scarcely hadthe opportunity. But if Zoe had been remembered in the will what was thedanger now? "No, your father was fond of Zoe ... He remembered her; butnot to the same extent that he remembered you. She gets $500 of theestate and you get the rest. But the hitch is here: we have elevenlawyers in Jacksonville and another one studying to be a lawyer; thisnewcomer, Douglas. And they are as hungry as catfish after a hardwinter. And Mr. Brooks feared that some of these fellows would try tostir up a little business by using Zoe to attack the will, and hethought it was best to get it settled. He was a good friend of yourfather's, liked him, and he wants to see his wishes carried out. Yourfather was one of the best of men. It's a great loss to thecommunity ... His death. "

But as Zoe was my sister why should she not have some of the land thatmy father left? Should her dark skin deprive her of that? My father hadevidently thought so. But now I could settle the estate by enforcing thewill, or I could divide the estate with her equally. Could I enforce thewill after all? I knew nothing of such things. I hadn't asked Mr. Brooks' advice about anything. There I sat then going over these mattersin my mind, in a kind of weariness and sickness of heart. I had heard ofcases where wills had been rejected for fraud or lack of mind on thepart of the maker. Was it possible that my father's mind was disturbed?What fraud could have been wrought upon him? I, the chief beneficiary, had not influenced him; no one could have done so for me. What then?

Zoe came in now and began to spread the table. There was only the onelarge room downstairs beside the kitchen. But I loved its comforts, itsquaint and substantial furnishings. All brought from North Carolinaoriginally, Mrs. Spurgeon said. There were silver spoons, hand wrought;and blue china, and thick blue spreads for the table. There were threerooms upstairs. The beds were posters, built up with feather beds in thecold weather; spread now with thick linen sheets. Mrs. Spurgeon hadwoven some of these things. Her loom stood yet in one of the outhouses, on occasion set up in the living room when she brought herself to thetask of weaving, rarely now. She was too old for much labor. Sarahhelped Zoe with the meal. Reverdy stayed to share it with us. But I hadlearned that he lived at the tavern, though he disliked it thoroughly. 

Some nights later I asked Zoe to walk out with me. She was timid aboutthe rattlesnakes which she said were everywhere through the woods andthe grass, sometimes crawling into the roads. There were wildcats andwolves too in the timber; but they were not so likely to be encounterednow as in the winter time. I had a pocket pistol, and taking up ahickory stick that was in the corner, I urged Zoe to allay her fears andcome. Sarah joined me in prevailing upon her. Zoe doubtless knew that Iwished to talk with her about the estate; and at last she walked with meout of the house and into the road. 

After a few minutes of silence I asked her about my father: what werehis spirits; his way of life; where did he live; did she live with him?Then Zoe told me some of the things I had learned from Mr. Brooks. Andas her mother had died when Zoe was born she had been taken by Mrs. Spurgeon to raise. She said that her father, my father, had lived a partof the time at the inn, and a part of the time at his house on the farm;that during the last two years of his life she had seen more of him thanformerly, though he was often in St. Louis, and even New Orleans. Andshe added with hesitation that he drank a good deal at the last, and wasoften depressed and silent. "Was he kind to you?" I asked. Zoe said thathe was never anything but kindness, and that he provided her withcomforts and with schooling whenever any one came along to teach thechildren of the community. I had already seen around the house a copy ofthe _Spectator_, and Pope's poems. Zoe told me that she had read thesebooks, part of them over and over, and that she had had a teacher theyear before who had helped her to understand them. I began to delimn Zoeas a girl of intelligence. Of vital spirits she had an abundance.... Thenight was very warm and of wonderful stillness, no breeze. We heard thecry of what Zoe called "varmints" in the woods. A night bird wassinging. She told me it was the whippoorwill. I never had heard a morethrillingly melancholy note. Once Zoe stepped upon a stick in the road. Thinking it was a snake she gave a cry and leaped to one side. But Icalmed her and we kept our way.... I had never seen the stars to thesame advantage, not even on the ocean. They were spread above us ininfinite numbers, and of remarkable brilliancy. And there was theprairie, stretching as far as the eye could penetrate into the haze ofthe horizon, except where a distant forest rimmed the edge of thevisible landscape. Zoe took up my remark about the spaciousness of thecountry with telling me that young Douglas had been to supper a fewnights before I had come to myself out of the fever, and that he hadsaid that the prairie affected him as liberty would affect an eaglereleased from a cage; and that he looked back upon the hills of Vermontas barriers to his vision. "He is nearly your age, " said Zoe; "only twoyears older. You will like him; every one does. No one can talk like himthat I have ever heard. ".... 

At last I brought forward the subject of our father's will. Zoe wassilent for a moment, for my specific question was what she wished tohave done. Then she said: "It's all foolishness. These lawyers here havebeen bothering me to get me to fight the will, and trying to get me tobreak the will because my pa drank. I know he drank, but I don't seewhat difference that makes. He always knew what he was doing, so far asI know; and even if he didn't I'd never say nothin' about it. I know myplace; and things is gettin' worse about colored folks, and less chancefor a colored girl to marry a white man even if she wanted to, 'specially if I knew he was marryin' me to get my land. I'm satisfiedwith the will the way it is and always have been, or any way you wantit, Mr. James. I know my place, and that there is a kind of curse on mefor bein' dark skinned; and I think my pa was mighty kind to make thewill the way he did. This 5000 acres he left is worth a lot of money, more than $5000 Mr. Reverdy says; and if I had what the will gives meI'd have $500, and what would I do with it? For I've always got to workanyway. "

Suddenly we saw lights ahead in the road and heard the rattle of wheels. It was the stage coming into Jacksonville. It was upon us almost atonce. The lights of the lantern made us blink our eyes. We stepped toone side. A voice called out: "Well I'll be damned if there ain't awhite feller strollin' with a nigger!" "Shut your trap, " said thedriver, and the stage rolled rapidly away from us. 

My mind was suddenly made up as to the farm by the remark falling sobrutally from these unknown lips. I took Zoe's hands. I drew her to me. She was weeping. Was not one half of her blood English blood? Yes, andwhat Englishman would not resent with tears an insult which he couldneither deny nor punish? But I would punish it. Zoe should have herrightful half.... And silently we walked back. 

CHAPTER IX

The next morning the alarm over the cholera is more intense. All kindsof horrifying stories go the rounds. News has been brought by passengerson the stage that a man and his wife, living near the Illinois River, died within an hour of each other. They were well at dawn. At noon theywere both under the black soil of the river's shore, buried by threestalwart sons, who carried their bodies in the bed clothing and let themdown by it into hastily made graves. 

Something has happened here. The stage driver who silenced the rowdieslast night is stricken this morning at the tavern. He is dead. By noonhe is buried in the village cemetery where the ashes of my father lie. 

Mrs. Spurgeon thinks that Reverdy should leave the tavern and come herewith the rest of us. I am to take the word to him when I go to see Mr. Brooks. She has seen the ravages of cholera before. There is nothing todo but to be careful about diet, keep cheerful, and surrender to nofears. I am not in the least alarmed. But the negroes are panicstricken. They are calling upon the Lamb to save them. They are singingand wailing. They are congregating at the hut of Aunt Leah, an agednegress, who is sanctified and gifted with supernatural power. Zoe isnot in fear, and Sarah goes about the duties of the day with calmunconcern. 

I am off to see Mr. Brooks again. The streets are almost deserted. Thefaces of those I meet are white and drawn. Mr. Brooks acts as if hismind is stretched out of him in apprehension. Yet he is in his officeready to pick up what business may come his way; and he is waiting tosee me. 

I tell Mr. Brooks at once that I want to divide the property equallywith Zoe. He thinks, evidently, that I have weakened before the mereprospect of a contest; and he assures me that the estate can be settledas my father intended. Well, but can this plan of mine be carried out?As easily as the other, he says, and of course more bindingly if therecan be a difference. For he had intended to have the court decree a saleof the property and divide the money under the sanction of the court. But according to my plan Zoe could get no more; and therefore no onecould object to it. 

I am curious about my father. What is the danger of a contest, even ifZoe could be brought to make one? Mr. Brooks tells me that my father wasdrinking heavily toward the last; that he looked aged and worn. His hairhad turned white, though he was only forty. He acted like a man who hada corroding sorrow in his heart. When he took the cold it developedrapidly into lung fever. He was dead in three days. His will was madejust as he took to his bed at the tavern. There were stray scamps aboutJacksonville who would swear to anything. And though Zoe was a coloredgirl, and notwithstanding the character of such witnesses in her behalf, a case so composed might be troublesome. Then there was the treasure atstake; and the hunger of lawyers and maintainers. Well, I had settledit. None of these wolves should have a chance. Mr. Brooks scrutinized myface with large, pensive eyes. After a silence he said: "You are theboss; but I want you to know that the will can stand. I will guaranteeto win the case if there is one. " "Can we see the farm?" I asked. "Andmy father's grave?" Mr. Brooks brought up his buggy and we were off. 

But first I wished to find Reverdy and give him Mrs. Spurgeon's message. He had gone out to his little farm. He was raising a crop, havingreturned from the war just in time to get it planted. It was only alittle out of our way, and we could stop there on our return. 

Almost at once we came to the cemetery, a crude enclosure, fenced withrough pickets, evidently split with the ax. Mr. Brooks led me to thespot. 

Weeds abounded everywhere. The grasshoppers were flying before oursteps. A long snake glided away from my feet as I stepped near theyellow clay which tented the body of my father ... And Zoe'sfather ... The husband of my lovely mother, so long dead. Here was thesoldier of Waterloo, the adventurer into this Far West, the man who haddied with some secret sorrow, or some sorrow for which he found no wordsor no confidant. Above me was the blinding sun, before me the prairie, atmy feet this hillock of clay, where weeds had already begun to sprout. Mr. Brooks watched me; and seeing me move he started on; and I followedhim through the broken gate to the buggy. 

It was two miles to the log house which my father had built on his land. We drove up and went in. A tenant named Engle was living here with hiswife and numerous children. Some of them crowded around us; others ranand hid, afterwards peered around the corner, timid and wild. Engle wasnot there; but his wife came from her washing to tell us where he couldbe found, what he was doing. When Mr. Brooks revealed to her who I wasshe stared at me with simple wondering eyes, drying her hands the whileupon her apron. She was terribly upset by the reports of the cholera. Besides ... She went on: "There's a right smart lot of lung fever thissummer. I 'low the men let their lungs get full of dust in the barn orsomethin'. And I never did see the like of bloody flux among thechildren, and the scarlet fever too. We never had nothin' like that inKaintucky. But I says to my man this mornin', there ain't nothin' to dobut to stick it out. When yer time comes I guess there ain't no use terrun. And people do die in Kaintucky, too. "

We proceeded to drive around the entire acreage. It took us some hours. Always the prairie, boundless and colorful. Miles of rich tall grass, sprinkled everywhere with purple, brick red, yellow, white, and blueblossoms! Billows of air drove the surface of it into waves. It was asea of living green. 

We passed forests of huge oak and elm trees, which grew along the littlestreams. There were many fields of corn, too, tall and luxuriant; andwheat ready for harvest. We came upon Engle at last. He wanted me tocome close to see the corn. I got out and stood beside it, stroked itslong graceful banners, turned up the dark soil with my boot and saw howrich and friable it was. And all this was mine, mine and Zoe's. 

My imagination took fire. My ambition rose. I resolved to study thewhole agricultural matter, and to reduce these acres in their entiretyto cultivation. I would raise cattle and sheep. I would build fences. Above all I would make a house for myself. Here was my place in life andmy work. No delay. I should begin to-morrow with something directed tothe general end. 

Returning we went past Reverdy's farm. But he had finished his work andgone to town. Accordingly we speeded up. When I arrived home I foundReverdy already there. But he would not leave the tavern. He gave noreason in particular. He said he was as safe there as anywhere; and itwas more convenient for him. 

But there was much doing. Sarah and Zoe were mixing the ingredients ofa cake. A turkey was roasting; we were going to have a guest for supper. Douglas, the law student, the new school teacher, was coming; and allwas delighted expectation. "For, " said Mrs. Spurgeon, "I reckon we ain'tnever had such a young feller before around these parts. Talk! You neverheard such talk. It flows just like the water down hill. And there neverwas a friendlier soul. I never thought they raised such people up inYankeeland as him. You can bet he'll make his mark. He'll be a judgebefore he's ten years older; and they do well to get him here. And whatI say is: where did he get his eddication? He is an orphan too, likeyou, James ... Raised by an uncle so far as he had a raisin'. But theuncle fooled him. He promised him an eddication, and then went back onit. And what does young Douglas do? He busts away. He gets awful mad andcomes west to make his fortune. Make a young feller mad, hurt him goodand plenty, and if he has the right stuff you make a man of him. I'veseen it over and over. When a young feller's mad and disappointed, ifhe's got the right stuff in him, he gets more energy, like a kettleblown off. They do, unless they sulk. Now there's other types. There wasyour poppy; he warn't mad and he didn't sulk exactly, and yet there wassomethin'. He seemed to simmer and stew a little. But he left fivethousand acres of land. Maybe he was one of these here big speculatorslike as is all over Illinois now, that has some kind of a differentsecret, and makes a big success some other way. You can never tell. Butyou see when Douglas came here he landed from Alton down here atWinchester and went right to work makin' a few dollars at a auctionwhere he was a appraiser. And he worked at his trade too. For he's acabinet maker. Yes, sir, he has a trade. With all the books he's read hehas a trade. And now he's up here to look over the ground; for they sayhe's comin' here next spring to practice law, and even then he'll beonly twenty-one. "

Surely, this was a land of haste, of easy expedients. I did not know agreat deal about the legal education of an English lawyer; but enough toappreciate the difference between the slow and disciplined trainingthere and the rapid and loose preparation which I heard Mrs. Spurgeondescribe with so much pride. I went into the corner of the room to writea letter to my grandmother. 

CHAPTER X

This is the letter that I wrote:

"Dear Grandmama: I cannot describe to you the conditions that surroundme. The boundless extent of the country, the wildness and beauty of theprairies, the roughness of this frontier town, above all the peoplethemselves. The house I am living in is unlike anything you ever saw;but yet it is very comfortable. And my hostess, Mrs. Spurgeon, as wellas her granddaughter, have treated me with all the consideration thatmy own kindred could do. I was very dangerously ill and they took careof me with wonderful solicitude; particularly Zoe, who nursed me andscarcely left my side. Now I am well, or nearly so, and they insist onmy living with them. I pay two dollars a week, or about eight shillings. And everything is clean and nice; the food very good, delicious baconsmoked with hickory wood; but altogether the diet is unlike what I wasaccustomed to in England. It all seems like a story, first that Ishould meet Reverdy Clayton when I landed in Chicago from the steamboatwhich had brought me from Buffalo. He offered to bring me here on hisIndian pony. But I was afraid to risk so long a ride, especially as atthat time I was beginning to feel very badly. Then it is strange thatI should get here and awake from an illness so serious in the houseof Mrs. Spurgeon, whose granddaughter Sarah is going to marryReverdy ... One never knows whether to attribute these things toProvidence or to the accidents of life.... Perhaps you were right neverto tell me about my father's marriage to the octoroon girl; but you musthave known that I would find it out on arriving here. It has caused memuch thought, if not disturbance of mind; but I have worked out myproblems, perhaps impulsively, but still to my own satisfaction. Zoe isabout the color of an Indian from Bombay. She is a beautiful girl, andshows her English blood in her manner and her active mind. I do notbelieve that there was the slightest danger that she would have attackedthe will; but many considerations moved me to divide the estate with herequally. She took care of me with the most affectionate interest when Iwas ill. Besides, the land is not worth so very much, and one half of itwill give her no fortune to mention. She is in danger even now, and thefuture for her is not reassuring. Illinois is supposed to be freeterritory, but it is not so many years ago that a vote was taken inIllinois to have slavery here, and it was defeated by no very greatmajority. And now the Illinois laws are rather strict as to coloredpeople. The country is beginning to be feverish about the slaveryquestion. I saw evidence of this in New York and on the way here; thoughjust in this place the matter is not so much agitated. Yet the other daya copy of a periodical arrived here called _The Liberator_, and it mademuch angry talk. I will not tire you with this subject, dear grandmama, but only say that the effort here and everywhere in America seems to bedirected toward hushing the matter up. But to return to Zoe: if hermother's father wished to secure the mother against misfortune bybringing her north and marrying her to a white man (my father, as itturned out) why should not I, her half-brother, try to protect heragainst the future that her mother might have incurred? I reason that Ihave taken the place of Zoe's grandfather, and must do for her what hetried to do for Zoe's mother. This inheritance of duty comes to me as theland comes to me, without my will. Zoe's grandfather gave my father hisstart, gave him the $2500 bonus to marry Zoe's mother. I think, inconsidering what share of the estate Zoe should have, these things cannotbe ignored. Of course I don't know exactly how much of the $2500 wentinto this land. From things I have heard I think my father spent moneyfreely; he went about a good deal and was not as temperate as he shouldhave been for his own health and prosperity. Something was evidentlypreying upon his mind. Anyway, I have decided the matter, and I hope youwill approve of me. I went to father's grave this morning, and it made mesad. Afterwards Mr. Brooks, the lawyer, drove me to the farm and aroundmost of it. I am going to take hold of it at once. This country isgrowing rapidly, and I mean to do what my father didn't exactly. I amgoing to be rich; that is my ambition. And I must think and work. I amwell again, or nearly so, and full of hope and plans, though sometimeslonely for you and for England. Some day I shall come back to see you. Mylove to you, dear grandmama. And do write me as often as you can. 

"Affectionately, James. "

And that evening Douglas came. He was of the smallest stature, but witha huge chest and enormous head. His hair was abundant and flowing, tossed back from his full forehead like a cataract. His eyes were blueand penetrating, but kindly. His face rather square. His voice deep andresonant. His words were clearly spoken, and fell from his lips freely, as if he were loosening them into a channel worn by long thinking. Hisideas were clearly envisioned. He had read books of which I had neverheard. But apart from books his sallies of wit, the aptness of hisstories and allusions quite dazzled me. 

Though he was but two years my senior, I felt like a boy in hispresence. His maturity and self-possession and intellectual mastery ofthe hour kept me silent. He recalled what he had done to bring me to thecomforts of Mrs. Spurgeon's house when I arrived in Jacksonville, illand helpless. After that he did not exactly ignore me, but I seemed notto enter into the association of his ideas or their expression. Hetalked of the country. There was the matter of Texas, a territory halfas large as central Europe. But if Texas seceded from Mexico he wishedthe country absorbed into the domain of the United States. Texas has aright to secede. All governments derive their powers from the consent ofthe governed. Let moralists and dreamers say what they would, the courseof America was toward mastery of the whole of North America. Yes, andthere was Oregon. If the Louisiana Purchase of 1804 did not includeOregon, what of the Lewis and Clark expedition; what of the founding ofAstoria by Mr. Astor of New York, on the shores of the Columbia River;what of the restoration of Astoria to the United States in 1818 after ithad been forcibly seized by Great Britain in the War of 1812? Douglaslooked forward to the day when Great Britain would not have an inch ofland from the Gulf of Mexico to the North Pole, and from the Atlantic tothe Pacific. All of this vast territory should be the abiding place ofliberty forever. Homestead laws should be passed with reference to it, and settlers invited to reduce it to cultivation. It should be tilled bymillions of husbandmen, the most intelligent and progressive of theworld. It should be crossed by railroads and canals. Already there werethe Mohawk and Hudson railroad, the Boston and Albany, and the Baltimoreand Ohio. Illinois should have railroads and canals; the rivers andharbors should be improved. Lake Michigan should be connected with theMississippi River by a canal joining Lake Michigan with the IllinoisRiver. 

What was it all about? National wealth as a foundation for education, power, the supremacy of the white stocks having the greatest vitality. 

Zoe was waiting upon the table, occasionally sitting down to take abite. Douglas neither saw her nor was he oblivious of her. He talkedahead, referring now to the slavery question. He believed the Northshould leave the South alone. He had seen the reformer, theintermeddler, in his native lair in Vermont. Who had brought into thisremote and peaceful town that copy of Garrison's _Liberator_? He was ahalf-cracked busybody. People who had no business of their own made thebusiness of other people their business. He would put all such drivelersto work upon the roads, and thus make them contribute to the nation'swealth. He referred to the works of Jefferson, which he had read, to the_Federalist_, which he had read, and to much else, of which at that timeI did not know a line. I studied Reverdy's face to see whether or notReverdy concurred in what Douglas said. I had confidence in Reverdy, andwas willing to go along with Douglas if Reverdy approved of theseprograms; although my English blood was stirred to some extent byDouglas' evident hostility to Great Britain. I sensed that Reverdy didnot wholly agree with Douglas in all his theories and plans. But Reverdyknew that he could not cope with such a whirlwind as this dynamiclogician. He therefore at times smiled a half disapproval, but did notexpress it. For myself I found my mind consenting to the magic ofDouglas' vision. I did not relish the idea of England's surrenderingOregon; but, on the other hand, since my fortunes were cast in theUnited States, did it not behoove me to draw upon the country'sincreasing prosperity and to help to increase it? Texas did not matter. I did not fancy the institution of slavery. It grated upon mysensibilities; but I had a very slight understanding of it in theconcrete. I was glad that England was rid of it. I had never admired theWesleys, the Methodists; but I was glad to give them credit for whatthey had done to relieve England of such an abomination. I rejoiced thatmore than seven years before I was born Clarkson and Wilberforce hadbrought about the abolition of this traffic from the land of my nativityand its dependencies. 

Then here was Zoe. If I was indifferent to slavery I had to be logicaland be indifferent to her becoming a subject of barter. At least what, but a sentimental reason, could I set up against the enforced servitudeof Zoe? What did it matter in point of justice and civilization that theSouth could not carry on her commercial interests without slavery? Wastrade everything? Were the merchants the leaders of civilization? Weremerchants to be permitted to do what they chose in order that they mightcreate wealth for themselves, or even the nation? In a word, was wealtheverything? My Adam Smith had said no, and I had already read that. Hehad classified banks of issue, colonialism, and slavery, as well as someother things as equal parts of a mercantile program. I was, therefore, inclined to dissent from any plan that included any one of these things. And still I was swept along by the torrent of Douglas' thinking. Hisvision enthralled me. His outlook upon the country, its increasing powerand wealth, fascinated my imagination. Was I not resolved to be richmyself? And for moments I was under the spell of his great power. He wasa world thinker, but with his own country forefronted in the playing ofa colossal part. It appealed to my English blood, that blood which doesgreat deeds through great vision, and then repents the iniquities alongthe way and corrects them at last. And who was Douglas in spirit?Nothing less than the English genius. And so my feelings were mixed, butadmiration for him predominated. I felt his edge and did not like it;his audacity and resented it; his power and rebelled against it; hisbrusqueness and shrank from it; his emphasis upon power and supremacy, and felt that he might be overlooking finer powers and more lastingtriumphs. But his eyes were full of kindly lights, in spite of theirintellectual penetration; and he was charming to the last degree. 

He stood up. I was a head taller than he. But his torso belonged to agiant, and his head. We all arose. And after a time, saying that he wasspending his evenings in the study of law, he took his leave. 

CHAPTER XI

The autumn was coming on. The cholera had abated. The air was cool andfresh. The country was taking fire from the colors of the changing year. And I was feeling more rugged than I had ever felt in my life. 

As I have said, a college had already been founded in Jacksonville. Indeed, some years before my coming the one brick building on the campushad been constructed; and before that the log hut, also on the campus, in which the young president and his pretty wife had spent their firstwinter here in 1829. Reverdy told me that he had helped to hew and placethe logs. I had become acquainted with Mr. Sturtevant, the president;for he was eager to hear of England, and Oxford and Eton. I wasfascinated with this experiment of a college in the wilderness. Heloaned me many books; and I often spent an evening at his house. 

In September I decided to go out to the farm and live with the Engles. I had many plans for the spring which could be better attended to on theground; and then I was getting ready to build me a house. Reverdy knewwhere to find the logs, how to prepare them. He knew where to get men tohelp him, and I was glad to leave these things to him. Mr. Brooks hadalready commenced proceedings to settle the title to the land, dividingit between Zoe and me. This was off my mind. I had men building fences, plowing. I was buying horses, cattle, hogs. In all these things Reverdywas an incalculable help. I could not have succeeded without him. Heknew horses and he helped me to honest dealers. 

One day I was walking over my land. I came to a beautiful grove of treesby the brook. And there in the midst of it was a log hut. I pushed therude door open and entered. There was but one room. It had a fireplaceneeding repair. I saw a ladder in the corner, climbed it through a lofthole and looked into the loft. The rafters were rough and crooked, madeonly of undressed poles. I could see daylight through the shingles. Thefloor was of hewn planks. But I was elated. Why not come here to live? Idid not like the Engle children. They were too numerous. I had noprivacy there. But here! I could be to myself. I could make myself morecomfortable than I was at the Engles'. I could have what food I wanted. I could kill game, for the country was full of it. I could bring mybooks. I could be a lord. 

I hurried back to town to tell Reverdy; to ask him to help me to mendthe fireplace, and to put the house in condition for the coming winter. Reverdy looked at me in astonishment. How could I stand the loneliness?Did I know what I was getting into? Could I take care of myselfentirely? What if I fell ill again and in the middle of the winter, when the ways were snowbound?

I thought of Zoe. Why not take her with me? I could teach her. She couldrun the house. Reverdy looked at me with a certain dubiety. Sarah wouldhate to part with Zoe. Perhaps there were other things; but he did notexpress them. However, nothing could deter me. 

Zoe was delighted with the plan. She wanted to get away, to be with me, since I wanted her. Besides, Reverdy and Sarah were to be married in afew days. He was coming to the house to live and that would make adifference in the conveniences. And Mrs. Spurgeon, as far as I couldjudge, was not averse to Zoe's departure. Thus it was to be as I wished. 

Reverdy left off the work on my new house to help me repair the hut. Wehad to make a hearth. For this I found stones by the brook. We stoppedthe chinks between the logs with heavy, tough clay. We mended the holesin the roof. We repaired the floor. I bought beds and bedding, utensilsfor cooking, a rifle, an ax, and some other tools. I stocked the housewith provisions. And in a week I was installed, listening at night tothe cry of the wild animals, wolves and foxes and owls; and the song oflate whippoorwills when an access of lingering summer warmed themidnights. I chopped my own wood. I killed quails and squirrels, androasted them. I tried my hand at making cornbread. And I awoke in thedelicious mornings, exuberant and happy. Zoe had not come to me yet, for she was staying on at Mrs. Spurgeon's until Sarah was married. Andat last the wedding was celebrated. 

I shall never forget that night. It was unlike anything of which I hadever heard. The town minister performed the ceremony. Mr. And Mrs. Sturtevant were present. Douglas had been invited; but whether he failedto get the message, or whether his new duties of teaching at Winchesterprevented him from coming I do not know. We missed him greatly. Anemergency arose in which his courage and gift of speech might have beenof use. I can imagine how he would have handled the crowd that assembledoutside while the wedding was in progress. In short, we were treated toa shivaree, or _charivari_. 

No sooner had the clergyman pronounced the final words than the mostunearthly noise broke loose right at the door. There was the sound oftin pans, kettles, horns, drums; and this pandemonium was punctuated bythe firing of shots and the throwing of stones at the door and gravelupon the window panes. Sarah, already flushed from excitement, took onan expression of alarm. I thought that we had been attacked by a band ofIndians bent upon massacre. The clergyman, however, smiled. And Reverdyleft the side of his bride and went to the door. 

He flung it open. And there burst upon my vision the wildest assemblageof faces I had ever seen. Some were blacked to resemble the negro. Somewere painted to look like the Indian on the warpath. They were dressedfantastically, in a variety of colors, with feathers in their hair orhats or coon caps. They leered, grinned from ear to ear. They yelled, and again began to beat their pans and kettles and to fire their rifles. Sarah put her fingers to her lips in a gesture of terror, of violatedprivacy. But after all this was but the frontier's hymeneal chant, thefestivities of the uninvited wedding guests. To quiet them it wasnecessary to ask them to partake of the wedding delicacies. 

They pushed and writhed into the room. Some of them were half drunk. They trod upon each other. What they might have done if Reverdy had notmanaged them out of the kindness of his heart and with a certainadroitness is past conceiving. It seemed to me that a riot was on thepoint of breaking loose at any minute. But having satisfied themselves, they began to file out. Some lingered to wish the bride and groom ahappy life. Reverdy spoke with each one in such friendliness of voiceand manner, in which there was neither nervousness nor resentment. Hetook it all as a matter of course. But Sarah was visibly distrait. Icould see that she was relieved as they began to depart. A few yells, afew intermittent shots marked their going away. Then all was silent. Theguests now began to leave. And as I was going back to my hut for thenight I came to Reverdy and Sarah to bid them God-speed. I had neverseen Sarah look so charming. Her bridal dress was made of stripedcalico. She had a bonnet to match. Reverdy had a new suit of blue jeans. He looked handsome and strong. And he turned his eyes upon Sarah with alook of protecting tenderness. I took their hands in mine to emphasizemy blessing with the closeness of affectionate contact. Sarah kissed meon the cheek; and I left, bestriding my horse at the gate, and ridingthrough the darkness to my hut. 

Zoe was to come to me the next morning. 

CHAPTER XII

The next morning while I was sitting near the door, cleaning my rifle, Iheard the soft pounding of a horse's hoofs on the heavy sod, and lookingup saw Reverdy and Sarah. He was in the saddle, she was riding behind. Iwas about to ask for Zoe when I saw her peeping mischievously around theshoulder of Sarah, showing her white teeth in a happy smile. It was notReverdy's Indian pony that was carrying so many travelers, but a largerhorse. They all got down and came in to see my hut. Sarah was greatlypleased with it, and Zoe could not contain her delight. Reverdy andSarah were on their way to Winchester to pay a brief visit to Sarah'saunt. They were soon off, Reverdy giving me the assurance that it wouldonly be a few days before he would again be at work on my new house. Meanwhile the other men would continue getting the logs. 

Zoe did not delay a minute in taking charge of the house. I had notcleared the breakfast table. She did so, then made my bed. I told her tospread it with clean sheets as it was to be hers now, but she would nothear to this. She was afraid to be on the ground floor where an intrudercould walk in upon her, or a stray wolf push the door open and wake herwith its unfriendly nose against her cheek. I told her then to look atthe loft. She climbed the ladder and took a peek, descended with theremark that she liked it and would take it for hers. Almost at once wehad perfect order in the hut. 

Zoe cooked, and cleaned the rooms. I was busy with my new dwelling. Ikilled enough game to keep us in meat. Sometimes standing in the doorwayI could bring down a deer. Then we had venison. But we were neverwithout quail and ducks and geese. Zoe made the most deliciouscornbread, baking it in a pan in the fireplace. The Engles brought ussome cider. I had bought a fiddle and was learning to play upon it. Wenever lacked for diversion. In the evenings I played, or we read. Mydays were full of duties connected with the new house, or the crops andimprovements for the next year. And spring would soon be here. 

I was beginning to be looked upon as a driving man. They had scoffed atme as a young Englishman who could not endure the frontier life, and whoknew nothing of farming. But they saw me take hold with so much vigorand interest that I was soon spoken of as an immediate success. Mycoming to the hut and living and doing for myself had helped greatly toconfirm me in their esteem. I saw nothing hazardous or courageous in it. As for the daily life I could not have been more happily placed. 

The fall went by. The winter descended. The brook was frozen. I had tobreak the ice with the ax to get water. I had to spend an hour each daycutting wood for the fireplace and bearing it into the hut. These werethe mornings when the cold bath, which I could never forego, no matterwhat the circumstances were, tested my resolution. For I was sleeping inthe loft where the bitter wind fanned my cheeks during the night. Zoehad found it too rigorous, and preferred the danger of an intruder tothe cold. Even snow sifted on my face from rifts in the shingles whichwe had overlooked. But nevertheless I adhered to the morning lustration, sometimes going to the brook to do it. I had never experienced suchcold. 

Yet the months of November and December, which at the time I thoughtwere the extreme of winter weather, were as nothing to the polar blaststhat poured down upon us in January and February. I had no thermometer. But judging by subsequent observations I am sure that the temperaturereached twenty degrees below zero. I took no baths in the brook now butcontented myself with a hurried splash from a pan. At night I coveredmyself with all the blankets that I could support. I protected my facewith a woolen cap, which was drawn over the ears as well. Zoe, thoughsleeping near the immense fire which we kept well fed with logs, gotthrough but a little better than I. We heated stones in hot water totake to bed with us. All kinds of wild animals coming forth for foodwere frozen in their tracks. I found wolves and foxes in abundance lyingstiffened and defeated in the woods. Some nights, seeing the light ofour candle they would howl for food and shelter; and I heard them run upand down past the door, wisping it with their tails. Then Zoe wouldcling to me. And I would take up the rifle in anticipation of the windopening the door and admitting the marauder. We were snowbound the wholemonth of February. I had to shovel a path to the brook. But it was outof the question for any one to go to town, or for any one to come to us. And of course during these bitter days nothing was done on my new house. The logs were all cut. They stood piled under the snow, except for a fewthat had been put in place. 

One brilliant morning in the last of February I had gone to the brookfor water. The cold had moderated to some extent. But the snow remaineddeep in the woods and on the fields. For though the sun shone, the skywas nevertheless hazed with innumerable particles of frozen mist, havingthe appearance of illuminated dust, or powdered mica. Somewhere in thedepths of this screen I heard the joyous cry of a jay. And Zoe, who wasby my side, said that spring was at hand. 

The next day the air was milder. Soon the snow began to melt. We heardmusical droppings from our eaves. The brook broke from its manacles. Icould see patches of dead grass and dark earth between the disappearingsnow on the fields. At break of day we heard the chirrup of thechickadee, the sparrow. I now resumed my plunge at the brook. And as wewere depleted of cornmeal and other provisions, Zoe and I went to town, riding one of the horses which Engle had brought over to me. Bad newswaited us here. Mrs. Spurgeon had died during the bitter weather, aboutthree weeks before. Sarah was very much depressed. And Reverdy seemedalmost as unhappy over the loss. 

He had much to do, but he would now set to work upon my house. 

Soon he came out bringing the men. I had made a drawing for the work andI was much about watching to see that it was followed. We could have hadbricks for the chimney, though it was a good deal of labor to haul them. But why not a chimney of stone? There were plenty of stones of adequatesize along the bed of the brook. And so we used them. But I did buylumber for the floors. I sent to St. Louis for the kind of doors Iwanted, and windows too. I was having a house built with regard toroominess and hospitable conveniences; a large living room, twobedrooms, a dining room, a kitchen, downstairs. The second floor was tohave four chambers. I had selected a site back from the road. It was ina grove of majestic oaks, not far from the brook and the hut. The workprogressed none too rapidly. Some of the men had to be away at times toattend to their farming. As for myself I had learned to plow, and was atit from early morning until sundown. I had many laborers working for me, plowing, sowing, building fences, clearing; in a word, reducing the landto cultivation. It was a big job. 

I had won the respect of the community by the energy with which I hadundertaken the task. The neighbors said I was an improvement on myfather. They wondered, however, if I would be as far-sighted andacquisitive as he, if I would add to what I had or lose it. 

In March I had a letter from my grandmother. She expressed pride in mefor what I had done, approved the spirit I had shown towards Zoe. Shewas a great admirer of Wilberforce; and as she disliked America for itsseparation from the Crown she wished the institution of slavery no goodon these shores. But she was disturbed about the conditions in Englandand Europe. The old order seemed to her to be crumbling. Revolutionmight break forth. The middle classes in England, having secured theirrights, as she expressed it, the laborers were now striving for thefranchise. Chartism was rampant. What would it all come to? Was Englandsafe against such innovation? But how about America, if the coloredpeople were given freedom, not of the franchise merely, but in civilrights of property and free activity? But contemporaneous with thisletter, two events came into my life of profound influence. One was mymeeting with Russell Lamborn, the son of one of Jacksonville's numerouslawyers. And the other was an extraordinary debate between a Whigpolitician named John J. Wyatt and young Douglas. It was at the debatethat I met Lamborn. 

Douglas had finished his school teaching. He had been licensed topractice law, though not yet twenty-one years of age. He had opened anoffice in the courthouse at Jacksonville. His sharp wit, pugnacity, self-reliance, had already excited rivalry and envy. He had suddenlyleaped into the political arena, carrying a defiant banner. 

Affairs in America were no more tranquil than they were in England. President Jackson had stirred the country profoundly by his imperiousattitude toward the banking interests on the one hand, and the matter ofSouth Carolina's nullification of the tariff law on the other hand. Thishad weakened the Democratic party in Illinois. And as there was to be anelection in the fall of state officials, it was necessary to success tosatisfy the electorate that President Jackson had not betrayed hisleadership. 

Bantering words went around to the effect that Douglas was seizing theopportunity of this debate to make himself known, to get a start as alawyer, and a lift in politics. When a chance to make a hit fits theorator's opportunity and convictions, it would be difficult for a man ofDouglas' enterprise and audacity to resist it. 

For Douglas had, in spite of everything, captured the town. His name wason every one's tongue. He had lauded President Jackson and his policieswith as much fervor as he had with virulence and vehemence denounced thehumbugging Whigs, as he had characterized them. The village paper, aWhig publication, had sat upon him. It had dubbed him a turkey gobbler, a little giant, a Yankee fire-eater. But Douglas gave no quarter to anyone. He returned blow for blow. He had become a terror. He must besubdued. 

John J. Wyatt, a man of ready speech, in the full maturity of hispowers, a debater and campaigner, a soldier in the War of 1812, and arespected character, was to lay the adventurer, the interloper, low! Hewas elected to the task. Was Douglas a youth? No. He was a monstrosity. He had always been a man. He had never grown up. He had simply appearedin this part of the world, a creature of mature powers. Yet Wyatt wouldsubdue him. 

We were all in anticipation of the contest. It was to take place in thecourthouse. What was the subject? Anything. Everything. Chiefly Whiggeryand Democracy. I came into town bringing Zoe and leaving her with Sarah. Reverdy and I went together. Here I met Russell Lamborn. He sat on oneside of me and Reverdy on the other. 

I shall never forget this night. Wyatt opened the debate, and he closedit. The question was: Are the Whig policies best for the country?Douglas had the negative and, therefore, but one speech. Was it fair?Had not the young man given away too much? No, for Douglas proved amatch for two or three such minds as Wyatt's. He humiliated to the lastdegree the older, and at first confident, antagonist. 

It was the most extraordinary exhibition of youth and dash andconfidence and ready wit, and knowledge and dialectic handling ofdifficult matter. It furnished the groundwork of my education in thehistory of American politics up to that time. It led into almost everypossible matter of constitutional law and party policy. 

Wyatt talked for an hour. He jeered at Douglas. He referred to hisdiminutive stature. He spoke ironically of his work as a cabinet maker, and advised Douglas to stick to it and leave the profession of the lawalone. He characterized him as a strolling fellow who was trying tobreak into the favor of the community with an impudence as effective asburglar's tools. What did Douglas know of law? Who would trust hisinterests to a lawyer so inexperienced? When had Douglas had time tomaster its simplest principles? Who could not see through Douglas' thinscheme to attach his fortunes to the chariot of the great but misguidedJackson? Why had Douglas leaped to the defense of Jackson in thiscommunity, like a fice coming to the aid of a mastiff? Why, if not toget a bone for his own hungry stomach? Everything in the way of a taunt, a slur, a degrading image, a mockery of youth's ambition, an attack uponobscurity trying to rise, were thrown by Wyatt at Douglas. All the whileDouglas sat imperturbed, his head at a slight angle, which gave him theappearance of attentive listening; and with a genial smile on his facethat was lighted a little with ironic confidence. Then Wyatt sat downamid great cheering. 

Reverdy thought that Wyatt had overdone himself, had forfeited to adegree the sympathy of the audience. There was no call for such roughhandling of a young man. The feelings of the crowd reacted. And asDouglas arose he was given a loud reception. For there were Democratsenough in the room. But though Douglas looked like a man while seated, he seemed a boy when he stood up. His stature told against him. But assoon as he spoke the first word the silence was profound. The voice wasthe voice of a man, and a strong man. It rolled over our heads withorotund volume. The clearly syllabized words fell upon delighted ears. He caught the crowd at once. 

Who would dare accuse him of subserviency to Jackson or to any man, forbread or for position? He differed from Jackson about the tariff, andall Jacksonville could know it. He agreed with Jackson about the bank, and the whole country would come to approve Jackson's course. Wasnullification right? Perhaps Jefferson knew as much about that as Mr. Wyatt. Let the laws of the Constitution be obeyed and nullificationwould never be provoked. What had created nullification? The vilepolicies of the humbug Whig party, the old monarchist harlotmasquerading in the robes of liberalism. How did these people dare touse the name of Whig, how dare to resort to such false pretenses, whenit was common knowledge that the personnel of that party, having beenput down as Federalists for gross usurpation and monarchist practiceshad, being forced to change their skin, adopted the title of the liberalparty of England, remaining more Tory than the party that tried todestroy American liberty during the Revolution? And now this Whig partylike a masked thief was abroad in the land to pick up what spoils itcould, and to take from trusting hearts sustenance for its misbegottenexistence. It was already beginning to coquette with the slaveryquestion, hoping to deceive the people with humanitarian and moralprofessions. Very well! If it was the Good Samaritan it pretended to belet it give up its bank and its tariff, which took enough money out ofthe mouths of the poor to feed all the niggers in the world. Let thewhiner about wrongs quit his own wrongs. Let the accusing sinner repenthis own sin. Let the people of New England pluck the pine logs fromtheir own eyes before talking of hickory splinters in the eyes of theSouth. 

And then Douglas took up the history of the formation of the Union. Whatwent into the Union? Sovereign states. Who concluded a treaty of peacewith Great Britain after the Revolution? The thirteen sovereign statesthat had waged the war. Who formed themselves into the ConfederateStates, each retaining its sovereignty? The same states. Who left thatunion and formed the present Union? The same states. What did they do?They retained all the sovereign powers that they did not expresslygrant. They never parted with their sovereignty, but only with sovereignpowers. Where does sovereignty reside under our system? With the peopleof the states. What follows from all of this? Why, that each state isleft to decide for itself all questions save those which have beenexpressly given over to Washington to decide. Who is trying to nullifythese inestimable principles and safeguards? That is the realnullification. The humbug Whigs, who would like to centralize allauthority at Washington ... "and Mr. Wyatt here in this new country, among people of plain speech and industrious lives, is the spokesman ofthese encroaching despotisms, which he has vainly attempted to defendto-night. He dares to assail the great name of Andrew Jackson. He wouldlike to overcome the state sovereignty which permits Connecticut toraise cranberries and Virginia to have negro slaves, which leavesKentucky with whisky and Maine with water, if Maine ever chooses so. Hedoes not know that the French Revolution was waged for the greatprinciple of the people to rule; and he fails to see that the wholeworld is coming to accept that doctrine. With the growing wealth andpower of the North, of Illinois, it is necessary that the rights of theindividual and local communities and of the small states as well as thelarge states should have the effectual counterbalance of statesovereignty to protect them against the ambition of centralists, who aremoney grabbers wrapping themselves about with the folds of the flag andwith the garments of superior holiness. "

He wished to see Illinois crossed by two railroads, from north to south, and from east to west. He would see the Illinois and Michigan canalcompleted, so that the great lake at the north of the state would beconnected with the Mississippi River and with the Gulf of Mexico. Whatdid it mean? The state would fill up with earners of wealth. Lands wouldincrease in value. Cities would be built. As for himself, he would dohis utmost to bring these benefits to the state. 

By what authority was his right challenged to come to this state to makehis home; and to this town to follow the profession of the law? Wasthere any one present who did not wish him to strive for theseachievements for this western country? Perhaps Mr. Wyatt objected. Nomatter. He was here to stay. He had left a land walled in by hills andmountains, where the eye was deprived of its use in forming a vision ofthe world. Here he had found his mind liberalized, his vision quickened. Here he had found a hospitable people, inspired with hope of the future. And he was glad he had cast his lot with theirs. He had grown in thisbrief time to feel that they were his people. And he asked them to adopthim as their son, trusting him not to forget his filial duties. 

The crowd was completely amazed at the vigor and fluency of Douglas'speech. Such applause arose that Wyatt was visibly embarrassed as hestood up for his rejoinder. He saw that Douglas had carried the day. Hemade a feeble attempt at reply. He tried satire; but it fell onunreceptive ears. He dropped denunciation. He dared not attempt that. He took up logical analysis. It left the audience cold. He peckedtimidly at the doctrine of state sovereignty. Then voices began toquestion him. He shifted to Jackson. But the audience would not listen. After using one half of the hour allotted him for a conclusion, he satdown half wilted and discomfited. 

A storm of cheers arose for Douglas. He was surrounded by a host ofadmirers. And I saw him now in a new phase. He was winning and gallant, of open heart, of genial manner. When he saw me he smiled a warmrecognition. I went to where he stood to offer my congratulations. Iasked him to come out and see me, and have a meal with me. He wasalready mingling with the young people of his own age at dances and insports. That had been his custom at Winchester. He was glad to come, inquired the way. He was very happy. He knew that he had won his spursthis night. And from thenceforth he was a notable figure. Had anythingjust like this ever occurred in England? I had never heard of it. Ishould certainly write my grandmama of this event. 

CHAPTER XIII

Russell Lamborn left the courthouse with Reverdy and me. He lingered atthe gate as if he wished an invitation to go into Reverdy's house; butReverdy did not invite him. He would have asked Douglas to come in forthe remainder of the evening, such as it was, except for Sarah'scondition. 

Douglas had quite carried Reverdy away. And yet there lurked in himsomething that was not intellectually convinced and morally satisfied. Ifelt a little the same way. I did not know how to describe my state ofmind. With Douglas' vision of the country, his hopes for it, the part hewished to play, I felt my English blood stir. But was there enough moraldepth to him? Did he reckon enough with the forces which made forculture, enlightenment? Was he really high-minded? Did he not have thegesture and the touch of the magician, the abandonment of theindifferent demigod--indifferent to the higher and the deeper currentsof man's life? I tried to formulate some of these nebulous ideas toReverdy, but found myself running into denials, facts of contradictionin Douglas' attitude and thinking. Reverdy was equally unable to statethe case against Douglas, which he felt a keener critic of thought wouldeasily do. Meanwhile young Lamborn stood with us while we fumbled thesedoubtful things. He seemed reluctant to leave. I wondered in a vague waywhat kept him from going. What did he want?

And when Douglas did come to see me, which was within a few days of thenight of the debate, Lamborn came with him. It was in the afternoon andthey were on their way to a country dance. I could not help but observethat Lamborn had been drinking. What a strange taste--this whiskydrinking! We did it in England, to be sure. But here it was doneeverywhere and at all hours and in all degrees of immoderation andvulgarity. Lamborn, however, was not unduly under the influence ofdrink; he was rather laughing and genial and humorously familiar. Douglas had doubtless taken as much as Lamborn, but he was quite equalto resisting its relaxing effects. 

Douglas and I sat under a tree by the brook. The buds were coming out. There was the balmy warmth of spring in the air. I had a chance now torevise my first impressions of him. His charm could not be denied. Hisfrankness, the quickness of his thought, his intellectual power, hisvitality, his capacity for work, the tirelessness of his energies, weremanifested in his speech, his movements, the clear and rapid glances ofhis eyes. 

At the same time I found angles to him. I sensed a ruthlessness in him. I saw him as a fearless and sleepless antagonist, but always open andfair. There was only once when his nature broke ground and revealedsomething of his inner self, something of a sensitiveness which suffersfor subtler things and penetrates to finer understandings. This was whenhe was telling me of the effect of his uncle's broken promise to educatehim. He had suffered deeply for this; and he was sure his whole lifewould be influenced by it. It had stirred all the reserve ambition andpower of his nature. It had thrown him forward in a redoubleddetermination to overcome the default, to succeed in spite of the lostopportunity. 

Hence he had read many books. He had studied the history of America, andother countries as well. His mind ran to statecraft. He thought ofnothing else. He sensed men as groups--thinking, desiring, trading, building--and for these ends organized into neighborhoods, villages, cities, and states. His genius, even then, was interested in using thesegroups for progressive ends, such as he had in view. He was a super-manwho sees empires of progress and achievement for the race through thehaze of the unformed future, and who takes the responsibility of carvingthat future out and of forcing history into the segment that hiscreative imagination has opened. He would guide and make the future, while serving men. 

Here he was then just past twenty-one, born on April 23d, the reputedbirthday of Shakespeare; young, and yet old with a maturity with whichhe was invested at his entrance into the world. He was in every way anew type to me. We were mutually drawn to each other. I knew that hiscourage could never stoop to littleness. His integrity, even when hisjudgment might err, seemed to me an assured quality of nature. As forme, he doubtless thought that I was one of the coming men of thecommunity. Whatever I was, I was dependable. If I should become attachedto him he could rely upon me in case of need. This, I think, made himregard me at this early stage of our friendship as a person not to beneglected in his business of creating adherents. When I spoke to him interms of wonder and congratulation of his defeat of Wyatt, he took itwith a smile and as a matter of course. He had found it an easy thing torout Wyatt. Wyatt had stirred his fighting blood; and everythingpertinent to the discussion had come to his mind in the heat of thedebate.... 

And now we began to hear the sound of a fiddle, scraped in a loose anderratic fashion and giving forth an occasional note of a tune. I lookedaround and saw Lamborn sitting in the doorway of the hut. Zoe was nearhim, laughing at his half-drunken attempts to manage the instrument. Douglas looked up. A quick smile shot across his face. He glanced intomy eyes in a searching manner which mystified me and sent a suddenthrill through me. What was he thinking? Surely he knew of my relationto Zoe. I caught out of his expression the prejudice of the time againstthe social equality that I was maintaining in standing by Zoe and havingher with me. I had not shirked my heritage. Perhaps Douglas admired metoo much to speak what was in his mind; or perhaps he was too much ofthe politician to trench upon ground so personal. At all events, wewere silent for a moment. And then Douglas called to Lamborn. It wastime to go. Lamborn rose to his feet, swaying a little as he did so, andcame to where we sat. He looked me over in a scrutinizing way, then shotforth his hand for me to take it. It was an awkward act and out ofplace! Yet I felt compelled to give him my hand. And with good-bys theybestrode their horses and were gone. I began to have ominousreflections. 

I went to the hut and asked Zoe what Lamborn had been saying to her. Shelaughed and seemed reluctant to tell me. I pressed her then; and shesaid that he had followed her through the house and tried to kiss her;that she had come around to the front door so as to be in sight ofDouglas and me; then that Lamborn had taken the fiddle down and hadbegun to play it. 

All the possibilities of Lamborn's attitude dawned on me instantly. Howdearly might I pay in some way for my father's desire to be rich! IfDouglas had taken his initial hurt in life from his uncle's failure toeducate him, I had begun the weaving of my destiny with these threadswhich my father had bequeathed to me. What would my complications be ifZoe eloped with a wild fellow like Lamborn, bringing his personalityinto the texture of my affairs; the matter of this land, and Zoe'sinterest in it? I could sense ahead an unending difficulty, an everdeepening annoyance, or even tragedy. Had I gone too far in dividing theestate with Zoe? For the first time the presence of the negro in thestate, the complications that it created, were forced upon meconcretely and with impressive effect. My heart registered a vagueapprehension. I warned Zoe against Lamborn, and decided that he shouldnot come about me again. 

The work on my house was now progressing rapidly. I wished to move intoit on my birthday, June 18th. I watched its completion day by day, andin addition I had much to do around the farm. I had made a start with afew calves toward raising cattle. In every way I was forging ahead asfast as I could. But my greatest delight was the house. I wanted to makeit as beautiful as possible, and I did not need to spare expense. Idecided to go to St. Louis for curtains and chairs, for beds andlounges, chests and bureaus. When the last of May came I set out for thecity. 

CHAPTER XIV

This June weather in Illinois! Such glorious white clouds floating inthe boundless hemisphere of fresh blue! The warmth and the vitality ofthe air! The glistening leaves of the forest trees! The deep greenshading into purples and blues of the distant woodlands! The sweetwinds, bending the prairie grasses for miles and miles! Glimpses of coolwater in little ponds, in small lakes, in the brook! The whispering ofrushes and the song of thrushes, so varied, so melodious! The call ofthe plowman far afield, urging the horses ahead in the great work ofbringing forth the corn! The great moon at night, and the spectacle ofthe stars in the hush of my forest hut!

I was superbly well. And for diversion went farther into the woods tohear a fiddler and to have him teach me the art which fled my dullfingers and the unwieldy bow. And this fiddler! His curly hair, alwayswet from his lustrations for the evening meal; his cud of tobacco; hisracy locutions; his happy and contented spirit; and his merry wife andthe many children, wild like woodland creatures, with sparkling eyes andoverflowing vitality! Many evenings I spent at this fiddler's hut. Andsuch humbleness! Only the earth for a floor! Only one room where all hisfamily ate and slept and lived!

In going to St. Louis I took the same stage that had brought me toJacksonville. This time I rode on the _City of Alton_, a better boatthan the one that had brought me from La Salle to Bath; but all theconditions were the same. There was the same roistering and sprawlingcrowd; the same loudness and profanity; the same abundance of whisky andits intemperate indulgence; the same barbaric hilarity of negroes, driven and cursed. And now many goatees, and much talk of politics, ofWhigs and Democrats. 

St. Louis was languid, weary and old. The buildings had an air of decay. The stream of life moved sluggishly, not swiftly as in New York orBuffalo, or even in the village of Chicago. There were luxury here andwealth. There were slaves and a slave market. I went to it, saw thebusiness of selling these creatures, saw a woman of thirty, no darkerthan Zoe, sold to a man with a goatee, evidently from further south, whotook her and led her away submissively. Whatever the institution mightbe of necessity and even of gentleness in good hands, here no less wasthe vile business of the sale. What would become of Zoe, was constantlyin my thought. I turned away from the slave market to continue myshopping; but I could not drive Zoe from my thoughts. 

Here was I in St. Louis and necessarily withdrawn from care of Zoe. Icould not always watch over her. Even if I did, what was her life to be?How could she establish herself? With whom, and where? I was glad thatI had not left her at the hut during my absence, that I had taken her toSarah. Nothing could happen to her while she was with Sarah. Sarah hadneed of her too. Sarah's baby was soon to be born. Dorothy Clayton, Reverdy's sister, was coming to Jacksonville from Nashville to be a partof Reverdy's household for a time; and the house had to be set in orderfor her arrival. Turning Zoe over to Sarah was, therefore, a great helpto her at this time. 

I completed my purchases, arranged for their transportation and returnedto Jacksonville. I arrived in the evening and went at once to Reverdy's. I had been gone a week. All were here to greet me. But Zoe was subduedin manner. Her smile was forced. She avoided me, going in and out of theroom about the work of clearing the table. She did not pause to listento the story of my trip. Was she perhaps ill? Reverdy and Sarahprevailed upon me to stay over night. And I did; but early the nextmorning all of us went to the country together; for Reverdy was nowpushing the house to completion. 

When we arrived at the hut, as Zoe remained silent and subdued, I beganto question her. She protested at first that nothing was the matter; butI knew better, and I persisted in my attempts to draw her out. She beganto cry at last. She came to me and rested her head on my shoulder. "Tellme now, " I urged. And she relieved herself of the secret in brokenwords, in half-formed phrases. 

She had gone walking one night with Lamborn. He had led her into thewoods in search of a rabbit's nest he said was there. He had seizedher, put his hand over her mouth, threatened her with harm, with beingsold down South. He had overcome her. She had returned to Reverdy'safraid to tell him what had happened. She did not know what Lambornwould do to her if Reverdy went after him. She felt that she was in thewrong for having gone walking with Lamborn, and that she would be blamedby Sarah. Therefore she had not told her secret before. She was surethat neither Sarah nor Reverdy suspected it. 

What was I to do? I could not conceive of a wrong like this goingunpunished. But my brain refused to plan, to think out what was best todo. I did not know the community well enough, nor enough of the laws tomake a decision by myself. I decided that I must consult with Reverdy. Ihurried away from Zoe, telling her on no account to leave the hut; andwent to find Reverdy. He was at work on my house, looked at mewonderingly as if to question what had brought me over so soon. I drewhim aside and told him what I knew. 

Reverdy's blue eyes grew terribly deep. They darkened like clouds in arapidly gathering storm. They were full of comprehending compassion. They expressed alarm, but also an inexorable sense of futility, as ifthere was nothing to be done. He was silent. He had fought the Indians;he was used to the rough life of the West. He did not betray fear;rather he acted as if there was nothing to be done. When he began tospeak that was the tenor of his words. He revealed to me possibilitiesthat I had never dreamed of. I could see that I was caught inunforeseen circumstances. Some of the dangers involved in the situationhe only hinted at. For example, the matter of my living with Zoe. Theremight be people in Jacksonville who believed that my attitude toward Zoewas not of a brotherly nature. Such a suspicion seemed horrible to me. But Reverdy went on to show me why it might be entertained. This remotecountry, lacking in opportunity for legitimate expression, held secretsof bestial and gross departures from nature. Here was Zoe, young andbeautiful. What did our kindred blood have to do with the matter of mydesire? I had not grown up with her, and it would be natural enough if Idid not feel toward her as a brother. Incest was common enough aroundhere. As to Lamborn, Zoe was a nigger, and the spoil of any one whowanted her. These were some of the things that Reverdy hinted at. If Iprosecuted Lamborn, the countercharge would be made that I had beenintimate with Zoe myself. If she had a child I would be proclaimed itsfather, especially if I raised an issue, and tried to fix the paternityupon Lamborn. If I went to see the state's attorney and asked him toact, there was danger that he would not wish to do so, because thepresent state's attorney was about to lose the office. He would not wishto start a social hostility that would react upon himself. In fact, Douglas was now trying to supplant him. I was known as a friend ofDouglas'. Perhaps I would be trying to involve the state's attorney inan unpopular prosecution. If the prosecuting attorney refused to actthat refusal would be known, and credit might be given to any reportsthat might arise that Zoe was mine before she was Lamborn's, if she everwas his. And if I resented the prosecuting attorney's refusal to act, then I might be accused of acting with Douglas in his ambition to getthe office. Above all, under the law of Illinois, Zoe could not testifyagainst Lamborn, a white man. Thus, in any prosecution that was to bemade, evidence independent of Zoe's word had to be procured. Where wassuch evidence? That really settled the whole matter. But I had gonethrough the whole range of deliberation before finding out that Zoe'sword would not be received in court. 

But why had Reverdy not warned me against taking Zoe to live with me?There was the matter, too, of my equal division of the estate with Zoe. I had done this with the purest of motives. Now the edge of it wasturned against me. For why would I surrender so much when I did not haveto?

What was I now to do? Should I send Zoe away? Should I keep her in myhousehold and let the tongues wag, as they were doing, or clatter if Zoeshould have a child? The secret would be out soon. Lamborn would be sureto betray the fact that he had captured Zoe. There seemed nothing to dothen but to settle down with British tenacity to live it out, and bravewhatever came to me out of the complications. I was sure of thefriendship of Reverdy and Sarah. 

With these reflections I went back to the hut. Zoe was still in tears. She asked me if she had not better go away. If I would give her some ofher money she would leave and never come back. "No, " I said. "I am goingto see you through, Zoe. We will face this out together; only do youconsult me about what to do, and help me to stand by you. "

I sat down and began to think it all over again. Here were all thepretty things I had bought in St. Louis soon to arrive, and the housewould be ready to occupy in a few days. Yet these happy events wereclouded for me. There was real bitterness in my cup now. 

CHAPTER XV

The house was done. My furnishings were delivered. There were curtainsto make, many feminine touches were needed to settle the rooms. Sarahdid all that she could, but Dorothy Clayton had come. She was just ayear younger than I, and of charming appearance and manner. We hadbecome friends almost at once. She was with me daily, as we put thehouse in order for occupancy. Reverdy thought that Sarah must beapprised of what had happened to Zoe. She was terribly wounded anddistressed. But she approved of my course in keeping Zoe with me. 

On my birthday, June 18th, we had the housewarming. I gave a party, inviting all the young people from Jacksonville and the country around:those that I knew and those that I didn't--all but Lamborn. The omissionwould be notable, but I could not invite him. The matter was promptlygossiped about. Lamborn himself was stirred to talk now. He made themost detestable references to Zoe and me; and I was told of them. At theparty Douglas drew me aside and confided to me that Lamborn was in anugly rage. 

Douglas was quite the life of my party. He mingled freely with all thecompany, making himself charming to every one. He danced with everygirl present, and more than once with Dorothy. His short figure gave hima certain comical appearance. But he was graceful and adept at thedances. And his wit and good humor kept every one in high spirits. Reverdy, too, participated in the joy of the occasion with generousenthusiasm. Altogether, we were a merry crowd. I had strengthened myhold upon the affections of the community. For the time I had forgottenmy embarrassing troubles. They came back to my mind after the guests haddeparted. And there was something else to disturb me. Dorothy had gainedmore than my passing interest. 

Work was now my salvation, and I had plenty to do. I had learned in thisyear a vast amount about running a farm; and I was blessed withexcellent health. But meanwhile Zoe! It was not long before it wascertain that she was to bear a child; and it would not be many months oreven weeks when she could not walk out or go to town without betrayingher secret to the world. But then what should the explanation be? ShouldI tell what I knew? Should I remain silent?

Except for engrossing duties, with time to think and brood, I shouldhave been thrown into tortures with the possibilities. There was alwaysthe chance, too, that Zoe in the desperation of the moment might runaway from me. She had the English blood of my father in her veins, venturesome, perhaps reckless. Perhaps it was well that she had nocontrol of the profits of the farm which had thus far been allotted toher, nor her share of the ready money which my father had left. I hadhad Reverdy appointed her guardian, making myself accountable to him. Ideemed this the fitting thing; and I was also brought to do it because Imight be absent at times in the future when she would need money. But ifZoe should run away what would become of her? The chance of her beingkidnapped and sold into slavery filled me with terror. Yet the days wenton without change. 

Except that Sarah's boy was born! What a father Reverdy was! Sowondering and gentle. And he guarded Sarah like a lover and father inone. Zoe was wild to see Sarah's boy; but that was out of the questionnow. She wanted to deed some of her land to the boy, or better perhaps, to Sarah. But she would have to wait until she became of age to do this. 

The birth of Sarah's boy affected Zoe profoundly. She was now about twomonths advanced in her own pregnancy. She was beginning to think of theordeal herself, of the fate of the child, what it was being born to.... What, indeed? I noticed that Zoe had hours of deep depression. Would itnot be best for me to have a woman in the house with Zoe? Mrs. Engleknew of a widow about fifty whose husband had been killed in the War of1812. And I got her, a Mrs. Brown. Zoe was now free of the housework. She had a companion when I was away on my work about the farm. And Ifelt relieved. But my mind and heart were full of problems. There wasalways Zoe! There was always Lamborn, skulking in the shadows of myspeculations. How would I unravel this tangle with him?

Then there was Dorothy. Some of the talk must reach her eventually. Itmight come to her as a smudge upon me. Then I could not expect tocontinue my attentions to her without explanations. How could I go intoexplanations with Dorothy? But even if Dorothy only knew that Zoe was mysister, what would she think of me? Could she have an interest in a manwith a family relationship of this sort? Could Dorothy, bred inTennessee, look with favor upon my attentions? Had Reverdy and Sarahkept this relationship from Dorothy? Had some one else told her? But ifshe had not found these circumstances a reason for turning from me couldshe tolerate the rest of my difficulties?

And one night I came home to find Zoe in bed. She was in great pain andvery weak. She was scarcely able to talk. She took my hand and pressedit, only saying: "I have done something for you. If I die, it will bebest anyway. If I live it will be all right. I could not bear to bringyou such shame and trouble. Don't worry ... Don't. "

Mrs. Brown came in and stood by the bed. She did not speak. She lookedat me as if to say that sometimes desperate things have to be done. Iunderstood. I acquiesced. Did Mrs. Brown do it? I never asked. Zoe'ssufferings were very great. All this for Lamborn's drunken madness. Andthen Zoe began to mend. She was out of her difficulty. She becameherself in a few weeks. But her spirit had changed. She was wiser, moreself-possessed. She was more a woman. A great load had been lifted fromme; yet I now faced a new Zoe. What would this mature Zoe do to me?

CHAPTER XVI

There was the law against Zoe taking this step, and against any onehaving any part in it. Still would it be known? I was content to waitfor developments and meanwhile to put the whole thing behind me. Workhelped me to do this. 

I had Sarah's boy to interest me too. They had named him Amos. I hadtaken five twenty-dollar gold pieces and tied them in a package, boundthem with a ribbon, and placed them in his tiny hand. I could notforesee the time when I should touch his hand on an occasion of verydifferent import and with Zoe standing by. Zoe had made Amos some prettylittle things and sent them by me. Sarah's only regret was that hergrandmother could not see the boy. Her great happiness was whollybeautiful. And Reverdy seemed impressed with a greater dignity and amore gracious heart, if that were possible. I had found Mrs. Brown welladapted to my household. She liked the place; and the prospect was thatshe would be long in my service. Life was moving on. 

I kept in touch with affairs in England and Europe through the London_Times_. I was also a subscriber to Greeley's _New Yorker_; and I didnot slight the local paper, which belabored Douglas in proportion as heincreased in popularity and power. I read many books as well. 

For I felt the stir of a new age. I saw the North, the country aroundme, growing in wealth and dominance. I saw old despotisms giving way andnew ones coming to take their place. The factory system was arising, dueto machinery. Weaving and spinning processes had improved. The cry ofwomen and children crowded in the factories of Pennsylvania began to beheard. The hours of toil were long. And if the whip descended upon theback of the negro in the South, the factory overseer in Philadelphiaflogged the laborer who did not work enough to suit him, or who wastardy at the task. Women and children there were feeling the lash of thewhip. Just now there was talk of a machine which would cut as much grainin a day as six men could cut with scythes. I ordered two of thesemachines for the next year, for I was farming more and more on a bigscale. But what seemed most wonderful to me was an instrument now beingtalked about which sent messages by electricity. It was not perfectedyet. It was treated with skepticism. But if it could be! If I could geta message from St. Louis, a distance of more than a hundred miles, in afew minutes or an hour!

Douglas came out to see me one night to tell me what was on his mind. Hewanted to be the prosecuting attorney. Consider the straits of a youngman who must make his way and get a place in the world! Is thereanything more desperate at times? What was the law business in thiscommunity, divided, as it was, by eleven lawyers, shared in by visitinglawyers? Douglas had to live. Youth is forced to push ahead or becrushed. I know he has been accused of manipulation in having the lawpassed by which he could be appointed to the office and supplant arival. Well, if he had not had the gifts and the energies to do suchthings, how could he have served the country and maintained himself? Thenext February before he was twenty-two, he was state's attorney for thedistrict. No wonder that lesser men railed at him. But what one of themwould not have done the same thing if he could?

And now I was seeing much of Dorothy. What did it mean? Was she only myfriend? Reverdy, her brother, was my most intimate friend. Did shereceive my attentions on account of the relations between him and me? Ifshe knew anything about Zoe she never betrayed it to me. Surely shecould not be in Jacksonville so long and be ignorant that Zoe was myhalf-sister. At last I decided to explore Dorothy's mind. I went at itforthrightly. Did she know that Zoe and I had the same father?

She had heard it. That was a common enough thing in the South; notcommon there, however, for a colored mother to be the wife of a whitefather. "I have suffered on account of this, " said Dorothy. "You knewnothing about it and had nothing to do with it. It is too bad--too bad, Jimmy!"

There remained Zoe's misadventure. How could I approach that? But ifDorothy had heard of it would she continue to receive me? If she knewabout it would not the present association of ideas bring it to mindand bespeak it to me by change of color or expression? I looked atDorothy quizzically. I discovered nothing in her face. Then I began tothink of the certain probability that some one had come to her breathingrumors upon her. So I said: "Promise me something, Dorothy. If any oneever tells you anything about me, say, for example, that I haven't beenperfectly fair with Zoe in every way, and honorable as far as I know howto be, will you withhold belief until you give me a chance? Do youpromise me that?" And Dorothy stretched her hand to me in a warm-heartedway. "You are Reverdy's friend, aren't you, and he is yours. Well, Ipromise you. But it isn't necessary, for it would have to be somethingthat I could believe you capable of. Then Reverdy would have to believeit, and then I might have a mind of my own after all. Why, how couldanyone say anything about you? You have been as good to Zoe as if shewere as white as I. "

And so Dorothy didn't know. I left the matter where it was. I could notgo on. You see I was nineteen and Dorothy was eighteen and the year was1834. 

But Lamborn. I had made an enemy of him. Rather, he had turned himselfinto my enemy. He was running with a gang of rough fellows called theMcCall boys. They drank and fought, using clubs or stones or knives. They were suspected of trying to rob the stage when it was driven by thepoor wretch who had died of the cholera two summers before. That driverwas noted for his courage, his ready use of the rifle; and he hadfrightened the marauders off, and had wounded one of them, who limpedaway until the trail of his blood was obscured. 

Every time I came into town I was subjected to wolfish leers from somemember of this gang. Evidently they had taken up Lamborn's cause. Something was preying upon him. He was drinking more heavily. Perhaps hewas tormented with the thought that I knew his secret and abided somevengeance upon him. Perhaps his conscience tortured him. At any rate hehad become a skulking figure of hatred, showing his teeth and snarlingwhen he saw me and sidling away like a wolf. He had muttered curses ashe hurried to one side. "Bloody Englishman" and the like were hisremarks. Something told me to watch him, to watch the McCall boys. Ibegan to take pains to guard my house in the country, sleeping alwayswith my rifle by my side; and I had provided my men with rifles, instructing them to shoot if trespassers approached during suspicioushours or when warned away. 

The autumn was the most delicious weather I had experienced since comingto America. Enough of the summer was carried over into October, and evenNovember, to keep the days warm and full of sunlight, while the nightswere clear and frosty, and always over this boundless prairie the farscattered stars. I had bought an astronomical chart and located theconstellations, in which Zoe had joined me in increasing wonder. Then Ihad a taste of real hunting. Reverdy and I had gone to marshes a fewmiles away for wild geese and ducks; and we had come back loaded withgame for ourselves and friends. There were many parties and what werecalled "shucking bees, " where the company set to to assist the host inridding the corn of its sheath; and quilting bees; and apple parings. These were occasions of festival, the local rituals of Dionysius. Earlier in the fall I had gone to a county fair and had seen theproducts of the field on display; and had studied the people: the tallangular gawks, the men carrying whips, the dust, the noise, the cheapfakirs and gamblers, the fights, the drunkenness, the women tired andperspiring carrying their babies and leading a brood. To me it was morelike a cattle pen befogged with dust than an assemblage of human beings. And there was no happiness, no real joy; only barbaric breaking awayfrom hard labor and the silence of the farms; only a reeling and ahowling and a war dance; and only here and there a flash of breeding andfineness, and intelligent use of the occasion for sweeter joys andfuller life. 

The winter came down; but I was better prepared for it than I was theyear before. My house with its walls a foot thick of solid oak andtightly plastered against the penetrating winds kept out the cold. Andmy fireplaces built under my very eye threw a steady heat into therooms. I was giving parties from time to time and attending them aswell. Douglas always came. He was unfailingly the life of the party. Hehad reënforced his political successes with a genuine hold upon thehearts of the young people and the older people. He was attacked weeklyby the Whig newspaper. But he was not without defense. Almost uponarriving at Jacksonville he had written a letter of praise to the editorof a newly started journal. The editor was greatly pleased at thisspontaneous expression of interest and had become Douglas' friend andstanch champion. Ah! Douglas was only manipulating. He had written thisletter to win a newspaper to his support. The wily schemer! "Genius hascome into our midst, " wrote the editor. "No one can doubt this who heardMr. Douglas expound Democratic doctrine in his wonderful debate withJohn Wyatt. This country is richer for having attracted Douglas to it. He is here to stay. And he will be one of the great men of the countryas President Jackson is now the greatest figure since Washington; andIllinois will send him forth as her son to speak and to act on the greatquestions that are already beginning to fill the minds of the people. "

Douglas often came out to stay for the night or for a day or two. He hadlittle law business, but his energies were always employed in shapinghis powers toward a participation in the politics of the country. Hissuperhuman energy was intensified by the fact that he had been deprivedof an opportunity to educate himself. It was the gadfly that drove himforward with such restless industry. I could see that he had no patiencefor a detailed study of the law; that he might be ignorant of thetechnical steps to be taken in the collection of a promissory note, buthe would know something about the resources of a treaty; that if he didnot know how to settle the title to a farmer's field, he had consideredways to put at rest any claim of England to the territory of the Oregon. Yet he had to live as a lawyer before he could flourish as a statesman. And he had become the prosecuting attorney. His enemies said it was by atrick; that he had had the state law changed so that the legislaturecould appoint him state's attorney for the district of Jacksonville. Theaccusation proved too much. Douglas was not quite twenty-two when hereached this office. He had been in the state but two years, not quitethat. How had such a youth first won the confidence of enough people whowished to give him this office and were able to do it; and then won thelegislature to do the extraordinary thing of changing the law to givehim the office, while at the same time supplanting a seasoned andexperienced man in the place? How? Was every one corrupt, people andlegislature? But it was February and he was the prosecuting attorney forthe people. 

He came out to see me, and we drank his health and fortune. It was onthis occasion that Douglas talked to me with the greatest freedom aboutmy own affairs. His frankness and sincerity, his friendship for me, relieved this broaching of my intimate interests of intrusiveness. Ifelt no inclination to resent it. He had glanced at Zoe who had comeinto the room once or twice, remarking that she was an unusual youngwoman. Then he said: "Your father must have been much of a man. I thinkhis marriage worked upon his feelings ... And Zoe. Don't let this get onyour imagination. You are handling it in the right way ... Just go on. Let me warn you. The McCall gang is a desperate one. Do not on anyaccount come to an issue with them. There are too many of them. Theywill sneak up upon you. They carry grudges ... And another thing, there's Lamborn ... As bad as the McCalls. He's been talking too, makingthreats against you. I tell you this for your own good. He has beenboasting of Zoe's interest in him ... To speak euphemistically of thematter ... But just be careful. " Whatever else he had in his mind hecommunicated it to me by the look of his speaking eyes, keen and blue. Then he arose and went. 

Dorothy had returned to Nashville for the winter. She expected to takeher place again in Reverdy's household in the spring. And we werewriting. I had thought of proposing marriage to her the night before sheleft. But I could not bring myself to do so. I needed some one in mylife. But I was just twenty, and Dorothy seemed so much more mature andwise than I. Then always there was this matter of Zoe. I lived in theexpectation that something would come out of Zoe's misfortune; and if itdid my name was bound to be connected with it. What would Dorothy say ifin the midst of our engagement, if she engaged herself to me, the wordshould be brought to her that I was the father of Zoe's aborted childand that by some one, perhaps Mrs. Brown, Zoe had been saved the openshame of giving birth to the child and while an inmate of my house? Icould see the probative force of these facts against me. This is whatkept me from speaking to Dorothy on the subject of becoming my wife andhaving it settled before she went to Nashville. And then somethinghappened that made my situation infinitely worse before it was anybetter. 

The spring had come on early and I had much to do. I was buyingmachinery. The mowers that I had ordered were soon to be delivered and Ihad need to be in town almost daily. There were always loafers about thestreets; and among them, not infrequently, the McCall boys or Lamborn. Reverdy had told me that Lamborn had been talking in the barber shop, saying that I was living in a state of adultery with my nigger sister. At the same time I knew, and Reverdy knew, that Lamborn was trying toget Zoe to meet him. He had sent her a note to that effect, which Zoehad turned over to me. Once he had accosted Zoe as she was coming fromReverdy's to join me at the courthouse preparatory to starting home. Reverdy thought that the fellow was eaten up with insane jealousy andhad brought himself to the belief that I had taken Zoe from him, if hecould be said ever to have had a right to her. 

It is an April day and I have come into town and am rushing from placeto place attending to many things. Reverdy has met me at the bank totell me of another opportunity to buy a team of horses and some oxen;for we use the latter mostly to draw the plows that turn up the heavysod of the prairie. Reverdy has just told me of Lamborn's threat to cometo my farm and take Zoe: that when a girl was once his she was alwayshis. He had said these things at the barber shop. Something came overme. I resolved that this intolerable state of affairs, of anxiety forZoe, of misunderstanding for myself, of dread of the future, of a sortof brake on my life as of something holding me back and impeding myhappiness and peace of mind ... All this had to end somehow and soon. Icould not live and go on with things as they were. 

We stepped from the bank. And there, not ten feet away, stood Lamborn. His mouth became a scrawl, he uttered a growl, he swayed with passion, he moved his hands at his side in a sort of twisting motion. And Ithought: there are Zoe and Dorothy, and I may create a feud against methat will follow me for years ... Yet this man must die. And I drew mypistol and fired ... Lamborn sank to the ground without a groan. Some ofthe McCall boys ran out. I fired at them. They fled. I walked forward astep or two. Then I asked Reverdy if he had seen Lamborn reach for hispistol. Reverdy had seen this. I had not. In fact, Lamborn did nothingof the sort. But if Reverdy saw this he could swear to it and help me. The excitement of the precise moment was now over. I felt weak andanxious. I wanted to see Douglas. As state's attorney he could help me. Douglas was soon on the scene. He had heard what I had done. I wantedto talk with him. He waved me off saying: "You must have counsel of yourown. You must not talk to me. I would be compelled in the discharge ofmy duty to use against you anything you might tell me. " With that hewalked away. 

He could not be my friend in this hour of need! What was I to do? Yes, there was Reverdy. But when it came to the matter of locking me upDouglas said: "If Mr. Clayton signs the bond ... Make the bond $1000 ... Don't lock him up. Get a coroner's jury. "

There was not a member of this jury who had not been exposed to some ofthis vile talk about Zoe and me, in the general contagion of the villagegossip. How should this examination be managed? Of course the singlequestion, they told me, was the manner of Lamborn's meeting his death. But the coroner's jury had the power to bind me to the grand jury for anindictment, and that I wished to escape. Well, I had been threatened, tobe sure. But why? If Lamborn wanted Zoe and I had her in my house andkept him from seeing her, was it for a good or a selfish reason? Were wenot rivals for the same favor? Did one have her and one lose her? Had Ikilled Lamborn for jealousy, or in self-defense? The single fact that Ihad shot him stood against the background of all this gossip and villageunderstanding, and was necessarily read into it for my undoing or myfreedom. 

There was the note that Lamborn had written Zoe! That proved thatLamborn was seeking her; but it might be used to prove that I resentedhis pursuit. And why? As Zoe's brother, or as her unnatural lover? Mybrain was in a whirl. I could not think for myself. I talked thesesubjects over with Reverdy and with Mr. Brooks, who was my counsel. Allthese things were done the day of the killing. The next morning, withthe body of Lamborn lying in the room, I mounted the witness chair in myown behalf, after Reverdy had testified that he had seen Lamborn reachto his pocket, and that it was not until then that I drew my pistol andfired. 

Was Douglas turned against me? He plunged into the matter of Zoe almostat once in his cross examination of me. And at last I told the wholestory ... With but two exceptions: I did not produce Lamborn's note toZoe and I did not tell of Zoe's illness and its cause; of returning fromSt. Louis and finding Zoe in tears, of what she had told me, of theembarrassment I then found myself in, of my perplexity, of my failure toinvite Lamborn to my housewarming and the reason for it, of Lamborn'sattitude toward me after that, his menacing looks, his growling insultswhen he saw me ... Of all these things I told with fullcircumstantiality under the examination of the new state's attorney, andwith the whole of the countryside looking on, Whigs and Democrats, andwith the audience permeated with slavery and with slavery feeling, atleast so far as the present case was concerned. What would Douglas nowdo? He rose and in his deep voice, with perfect command of himself, looking over the audience as if it was a great instrument whose keys heknew, he spoke these brief words: "Gentlemen, it makes no difference tome whether this girl is white or black; if you bind this young man overto the grand jury, I will do what I can to prevent an indictment; and ifthe grand jury indicts him I will do what I can to have him acquitted. This dead man here met his just fate. "

The audience cheered. The jury acquitted me without leaving their seats. I walked a free man into the soft air of April. Douglas came out. Hismanner was changed. He spoke to me in freedom and in the old tone offriendship. "The boil is now open, " he said. "The cut place will heal. "

And he walked with me down the street followed by a cheering crowd. Douglas had won the people; and I was free!

CHAPTER XVII

I began to see myself as boring through opposition with lowered head andindomitable will. I was strengthened by the fact that I had neverswerved from my duty to Zoe. And now that the beast was out of the waywho had caused her so much agony, my whole life seemed cleared. TheMcCall gang might cause me trouble, but they would need to comeprepared, or to catch me off my guard. The opening up of the whole casehad had a wholesome effect upon my reputation. The brotherly innocenceof my relation to Zoe was the generally accepted one. Reverdy assured meof this. Douglas was a valiant friend to me in this clarification of mynature and my character before the community. The whole atmosphere of mylife was now freer; but it had cost Lamborn his life to make it so. Itseemed best, however, that I should leave town for a while. I decided togo to Cincinnati and then to Nashville. I wanted to see Dorothy. I feltthat I must make myself clear to her, and face to face. 

Having made all arrangements for Zoe and Mrs. Brown to keep the housewhile I was gone and having laid out the work for my men, I set forthfor Vandalia, the capital of Illinois, by stage. There I took theCumberland Road, passed through Indianapolis, a small place; arrived ingood time at Cincinnati, a city of more than 30, 000 people; a busy placeof manufacturers, distillers, and pork packers, since Kentucky, Ohio, and Indiana shipped their hogs to this market to be converted into hamsand bacon and lard. I saw the town, the residence of the great NicholasLongworth, who had grown fabulously rich by making wine. And at thehotel, this latter part of April being warm, I was treated to thespectacle of the men in the dining room taking off their coats anddining in their shirt sleeves amid the not inelegant appointments thatsurrounded the table. But I was becoming Americanized now and was not assensitive as formerly to deportment of this sort. 

The vastness of America came over me as I descended from Cincinnati toNashville. Yet there was the southern territory still south of me; andbeyond the Mississippi the unsettled empire of Louisiana. Cincinnati hadsomething of the activity and the character of other northern cities;but as I passed through the domain of Kentucky and Tennessee I could nothelp but see that here was an agricultural country which owed itsprosperity to slavery. But what was all that I saw here of industry andutilization of the resources of the land compared to what I saw growingup as a system around Jacksonville?

Yet the loveliness of the country around Nashville enchanted me. I wasin a mood to be won, to be sure; for I was completely captivated byDorothy and the delightful hospitality that was accorded me. Dorothy'smother treated me with such gentle and thoughtful attention, as if shereceived me not less upon the basis of my friendship to Reverdy thanupon my own appeal to her. And as for Dorothy--she was as kind to me asa sister; and yet.... 

I loved the country and this little city of 6000 people on the hillsabove the Cumberland valley. Still, so many negroes. In this whole stateof about 700, 000 people, nearly 150, 000 were slaves, so Dorothy told me. It amazed me. Negro slavery, so far as England was concerned, had neverto me been a visible thing. But here in America, here in Tennessee, andin this city, it struck one at every turn. It entered into all the dailythinking and plans of every one. It was omnipresent. It touched everylife. 

This was the town of James K. Polk, whose name meant nothing to me; butDorothy spoke of him as a leading man in Congress from Tennessee. Herealso was the residence of President Jackson, a place called the"Hermitage, " a few miles into the country. Dorothy and I drove to it. These were the places of interest to see; and everywhere the southernmansion: the upper and lower porch in front, the spacious windows, theDorian or Ionic columns, as the case might be; the great entrance doorset between mullioned panes at either side, and beneath a lunette ofwoodwork and glass. The Clayton house was like this, for Dorothy'sfather had been a man of wealth, a slave owner too in his prosperousdays. He had failed and died, Reverdy had gone to the newer country ofIllinois to seek his fortune, leaving Dorothy and the mother to thepossession of the diminished property which Mr. Clayton had left. 

But above everything in the way of delight, for the beauty of theprospect, for the opportunity it gave me to be with Dorothy, were thehills that overlooked the Cumberland valley and the river. We climbedhere daily and sat beneath the lovely oaks that shaded the richness ofthe grass. To the west and north the river flowed to its confluence withthe Ohio. Around us the hills. The valley between. The silence ofnature, the intensity of unfolding life around us. Always on my mind wasthe thought of Dorothy as my wife. And why not speak my heart? I couldnot tell why. Was it Zoe; Dorothy's knowledge of Zoe? Was I investingDorothy with my own thoughts, putting into her mouth the objections thatI could make against myself? I could not tell what Zoe might bring intothe life of the woman I married, as well as my own. Surely I was notvery robust, very hearty in my speculations. For Dorothy had receivedme. There was nothing lacking in the warmth of her hospitality ... Andyet I sensed at times such a temperate feeling in her glance, in hervoice. Even her frankness had that character, or enhanced it perhaps. 

And one afternoon as we were walking along the river I spoke what was inmy heart. I had this competence. I had built the house. I could make afortune in time. I was beginning to need some one to help me, to be withme. And no sooner had I spoken than I saw myself: Zoe was my half-sisterand I was proposing marriage to a girl who had no feeling that did notbespeak to her the inferiority of the colored skin, no matter if it werelightened, no matter by whom. Dorothy's attitude was that of thehigh-bred and kindly southerner: the negroes must be kept in slavery asa solution of the social question and for the prosperity of the South;but at the same time the negro should be treated with kindness. And herewas Zoe, the half-sister of the man who was asking her to be hiscompanion for life. To what extent, then, the associate on a basis ofequality with Zoe too? This was not all. My name had been coupled withZoe's. Above all, I had killed a man, my rival or Zoe's hunter, as onemight choose to believe. 

Thus I saw myself. My very hair began to rise and to tingle. How had Idared to make this proposal to Dorothy? And as Dorothy was silent, andlooked down as we walked, poking with her parasol at pebbles in theroad, I was in a tense anxiety to know with what words she would breakthe oppressive pause between us. "I could see, " she said, "that youliked me; and of course you wouldn't come so far to see me if youdidn't. And you must know that Reverdy's friendship for you makes adifference. Do you know... ?"

Dorothy lost her voice. The tears came out of her eyes. As she did notspeak I began again, trying to say for her what she did not say forherself. "There's Zoe, " I said. And then Dorothy quite lost control ofherself. She wept piteously. And then she grew calmer. She had faced thereluctant fact when I spoke Zoe's name. We had stumbled up and overthat roughness in the road. Any rut or obstacle in it might now beeasier endured ... If worse was not to come. 

Yes, these stories about me. Had Dorothy heard them? And the life I hadtaken for Zoe's sake. I was sure Dorothy had not heard of that. Even thefirst was a subject difficult to approach. I was twenty, Dorothy wasnineteen. But the greatest obstacle was the age in which we lived. Womennow draped themselves in mystery. There were whole realms of subjectsthat were not talked between the sexes. We managed things by mildindirections, by absurd circumlocutions. 

I began to think of the letter that Lamborn had written Zoe. I wascarrying it in my pocket. Did it not prove Lamborn's interest in Zoe? Ihanded it to Dorothy, thinking that it would disprove my interest inZoe, of which I had been made self-conscious by the accusations; and notrealizing that Dorothy probably knew nothing of all these charges. "Readthis, " I said, handing it to Dorothy. 

Dorothy took it in at a glance, for it was only a few lines beginning"Dear Zoe. " It was an invitation to Zoe to meet Lamborn again at thesame place. Dorothy's face turned crimson. She handed the note back tome without a word. I had to struggle with the tough materials of therevelation that I wished to make. And I went on to tell Dorothy that theauthor of the note was Lamborn. "You remember him?" I asked. Dorothynodded her head. "Well, " I continued, "he is dead, thank God. I killedhim. "

Dorothy was overcome. She reeled. After a moment, in which she found herbreath again, she faced about and began to walk toward the town. 

I followed, hurt and crushed; for Dorothy had suddenly changed her wholemanner. Her face was impenetrable; and it had paralyzed my hope with itsexpression of self-withdrawal, something almost of anger. I could not goon now and tell my story: that I had killed Lamborn because of hisoffense against Zoe, because of his menacing attitude toward me, becauseof the vile things he had said about Zoe. No! nothing I could say nowwould be in place. I had blundered, perhaps. We walked to the house, silent all the way. 

Dorothy went to her room, leaving me in the hands of her mother. Mrs. Clayton, thinking that we had had a lovers' quarrel, endeavored by extraattention to me to overcome Dorothy's absence, and to say to me in thisway that she did not share in Dorothy's attitude. 

And so it was that Mrs. Clayton and I dined together; and I now hadopportunity to tell her of little Amos, of my life in England, of myfarm, my new house, my plans for the future. Mrs. Clayton was outspokenenough. She said that Reverdy admired my father for many things, and didnot particularly censure his marriage. As for that it was a commonenough thing in the South for the planters to have children by negrowomen, or by the prettier quadroons and octoroons. For herself shehated slavery, but did not know what would be done if the negroes werefree. 

Dorothy did not appear. We rose from the table and went out to sit underone of the great trees in the yard. I thought I saw an opportunity. Whynot talk to Mrs. Clayton? She could tell Dorothy what I was unable tosay to her. I set my will to the task. 

"You seem to know about my father, Mrs. Clayton. And I want you to knowabout me. I want Dorothy for my wife. We had a kind of a flare-up thisafternoon. I was trying to make my case clear, and Dorothy fell tocrying. That's all. You see I came to America in ignorance ofeverything. No one had told me about my father's marriage; and I blamemy grandmother that she did not tell me. Well, I got to Jacksonville andwas terribly ill, almost died. Zoe took care of me. And that won me. Butin addition to that she is as much my father's child as I am. I foundthat out as soon as I got up. Then I took her to live with me, to helpme with the house, without thinking that there would be talk, not onlyby those who didn't know that she was my sister as well as by those whodid know it. I went to St. Louis to buy furnishings for my new house. While I was gone a man named Lamborn wronged her. This made greattrouble for me. And one thing led to another. He was saying vile thingsabout me and about Zoe. And my life was getting more and moreunendurable day by day on account of this fellow. And at last I wascoming down the street with Reverdy one day, and this Lamborn suddenlyconfronted me. I drew and killed him. The state's attorney, Mr. Douglas, brought out all the facts before the coroner's jury. The jury acquittedme before leaving their seats. Mr. Douglas told the jury that he wouldnot prosecute me if an indictment was found against me. And so... " I wasabout to say that I had come to Nashville to get away from thecircumstances. But I caught myself and forebore. 

Mrs. Clayton had followed me with rapt attention, leaning more and moretoward me as my story progressed. She put out her hand to take mine. Icould not tell whether it was the hand of pity or admiration. Her eyeswere kindly, but they searched me. She seemed to say: "What difficultyin this boy's life is he trying to mingle with my daughter's life?" Shespoke. "It is too bad. You are too young to have such tragedy. " That wasall. Then we went in. 

As I arose the next morning I began to wonder what reception would beaccorded me by Mrs. Clayton, not to say Dorothy. No one was astir butthe colored butler and the maids. Yes, slavery was very well for them. Icould see that all that was said in favor of the benevolence of theinstitution had verification in them and perhaps in all slaves doinglike service. But what of the field hands, the heavier workers? I wasthinking of these things, but mostly of the desperate situation I was inand of this day ahead of me. Would Dorothy see me again? Would I be thehonored guest of yesterday? This silence of the mansion made me feelthat its hospitality had cooled toward me. But in a little while Mrs. Clayton appeared on the stair and descended to find me rather restlesslypacing the room. 

I could not specify any change in her manner. Perhaps as a matter ofbreeding I was to be bowed out with all possible courtesy. She smiled mea "Good morning, " said that Dorothy would not be down until later. Wetwo went in to breakfast. 

I began to feel embarrassed. I could not be at ease. Mrs. Clayton sensedmy diffidence. We managed the conversation in broken sentences andforced remarks. My pride asserted itself. I had done nothing myself forwhich I could be blamed. For the rest, if I was not wanted I should gomy way. I asked Mrs. Clayton when I could get a boat to St. Louis. Shedid not know, but one ran almost every day either directly, or I couldchange boats at a place called Freesland on the Ohio River. Accordingly, after breakfast, I went to the steamboat landing to make inquiries ... And without seeing Dorothy. 

A kind of rebellion and resentment were rising in me. Dorothy wasReverdy's sister; but surely she was of a different spirit if shedisapproved of me for what I had done. Perhaps it would be well to befree of my love for Dorothy, to be once more without any feeling that mylife needed completion by uniting it with a woman's life. I had offeredmyself. I was not accepted. My dignity, and place in the world, as Isaw them, were dishonored. 

When I returned to the house Dorothy had appeared. She smiled gently inrecognition of me. I broke the silence by telling her that I could get aboat the next day, and that I must be off. She made no reply. 

Later we went to the yard, under one of the great trees. Dorothy wasevidently tortured in her mind and did not know what to say to me. Shelooked worn and as if she had not slept. I searched her face. A tearstole down her cheek. She averted her eyes and clasped her handstogether nervously. I could endure the suspense no longer. 

"It is best for me to go, " I said. She made no reply. "I am sorry that Ihave made you suffer. Let me erase everything by withdrawing what I havesaid to you. " "You can't, " said Dorothy. "You are Reverdy's friend; youknow how I love him. You couldn't suppose that anything that hasaffected you so deeply would not affect him and therefore me. I neverbelieved that I could be so unhappy. You are going and that leaves me tothink and think. "

My heart took fire again. I stretched my hand to take Dorothy's. Sheremoved hers gently out of reach. "Go your way, my friend, " she said. "Later I may write you. You are only a boy yet ... And many things mayhappen. But be sure that I suffer, and that I remember and that I needhelp. "

She arose and preceded me back to the house. Mrs. Clayton seemed todirect her influence toward smoothing our way. But nothing could bedone. I had met defeat and I wished to depart. 

The next day I was on the Ohio but not bound for St. Louis. I haddecided to see New Orleans. Change of scene might allay my thoughts. 

CHAPTER XVIII

I did not tell Dorothy where I was going. I left her to suppose that Iwas returning to Jacksonville. 

In passing to the boat landing I stumbled and fell, bruising myselfpainfully. I was hurrying to get away and in my haste and sorrow I wasoblivious of my surroundings. As I limped along on the deck, I wasapproached by a kindly man who offered me some ointment which he saidwas made from the oil that escaped over the surface of the water in thesalt wells of Kentucky and elsewhere, in spite of anything that could bedone and much to the inconvenience of the business of getting salt. Thisman said that the oil was being subjected to experiments for use inillumination. As an ointment it was magical, and in a few days mylameness disappeared. 

Both on the Ohio and the Mississippi we saw flatboats tied togetherheaped with coal, which had been loaded into them from the sides of thehills of the Alleghanies and elsewhere. They were being floated down toNew Orleans. I had found coal in several places on my land in Illinois. Sometimes one could dig it out of the surface of the ground. But noexpeditious means were yet in use in Illinois in mining it. 

The Mississippi is a wonder scene to me. The river is full of islandsand the boat winds about in endless turns of the stream. There areswamps, and melancholy cypress and funereal live oaks. There are thesolitary huts of the woodcutters, and bars of sand covered with canebrake, and impenetrable forests, and the forbidding depths of thejungle. Farther on there are the sugar plantations, and the levees, andthe great houses of the planters, and the huts of the negroes, and thevivid greens of fields of sugar cane standing many feet high; and aroundthese the cypress swamp. And on every side in the midst of eachplantation the tall white towers of the sugar mills. It is all novel andwonderful to me; and it helps me to forget my insistent thoughts ofDorothy. 

The steamer stopped to get wood. It was at a creole plantation. Therewas a procession of carts here, each drawn by a team of mules, driven bynegroes, laughing and joking with each other. They were slaves haulingwood to the sugar mills. We were soon off again on the silent river, which had now broadened to the dimensions of a great lake. 

Then we saw steeples, a dome; then the masts of numerous vessels, andsteamboats, and tall chimneys. Then we reached the levee of the city. The boat was fastened, and I walked upon the streets of New Orleans. Theheat was no greater than I had felt in Illinois. And at night a breezestirred briskly from the harbor and the gulf beyond. This city of 50, 000people had immediate fascination for me. 

In the evening I went to the Place d'Armes where a military band wasplaying. There were races during the day just out of town. The caféswere filled with people smoking and drinking, playing billiards anddominoes. Ladies in gay costumes sat in the balconies, makingobservations on the scene, the players, the passersby. French was spokeneverywhere. And everywhere was the creole beauty, with black eyes andlong silken lashes, and light skin faintly suffused with rose. I plungedinto these festivities in order to forget Dorothy. 

I went to the Spanish Cathedral the next day, and saw on the porchgroups of gray-haired negroes waiting for alms. There were candles onthe altar, paintings of the stations of the cross on the pillars, andconfessional closets near the door. And here the lovely creole kneltside by side with pure black descendants of the African negro. 

Not anywhere did I see the negro treated worse than in Illinois, excepton one occasion. I was loitering on the dock looking at the steamboatsbeing loaded by slaves. A negro driving a wagon almost collided with awagon being driven by a white man. I saw the whole of it. The white manwas at fault. Yet he began to curse the negro, who laughingly spoke thetruth, that the white man had suddenly veered. With that a man, apparently an officer of some sort, stepped from a patrol box carrying arifle and with an oath and a vile epithet commanded the negro to driveon. And he did quickly and without returning a word. There was somethingabout the injustice of this that aroused my resentment. It was apartiality that had nothing to do with the circumstances, but only withthe persons. 

I visited the slave market and again saw the auctioning of humanbeings, some as light of color as Zoe and of as much breeding. Again Ibegan to speculate on Zoe's future. What would become of her? How wouldher fate tangle itself with mine? If Douglas had taken an impetus inlife from his uncle's failure to educate him, what direction had my lifebeen given by my father's marriage and Zoe? Already I had killed a manfor Zoe's sake; and I had been rejected by Dorothy because of Zoe, orbecause of the circumstances which Zoe had created around my life. 

Wherever I wandered on Canal Street, on the wharves, in the Frenchquarter, out to the battlefield where Jackson had won a victory overPackenham, Dorothy was habitually in my thoughts. But always a doorclosed against any communication with her; anything to be done for heras a remembrance of her generosity; any step to be taken toward makingwhole what I conceived to be our wounded friendship. Should I writeDorothy? But what? So many exquisite things in the shop windows: jewels, artistries of silver and gold. How I longed to select something forDorothy! But the door was closed against it. In the antique shops lovelytables, chests, writing desks! If I could only buy many of such thingsfor our home--Dorothy's and mine. But was that home to be? The doorsoftly closed. 

And thus I went about the city. It was so colorful, so gay, socontinental, so unlike anything I had ever dreamed of. And all the whileI was trying to order my thoughts, wondering what I should do. And ifever Douglas in his political ambitions got entangled, to his ownundoing, with this mass of human beings, white and black, moving aboutthe carcass of life, what was to be my fate, both on the score of myindividual lot, and as one of the units in this racial hostility, andthe political and economic forces that generated it?

I tried several times to write a letter to Dorothy. I could not find theexact thing I wanted to say, or the words with which to express it. Whatshould I say? Should I urge Dorothy to a marriage with me? Should Iattempt to argue down her misgivings? Should I tell her that I wouldreturn to Jacksonville and send Zoe away? Should I write Dorothy that Irelinquished any hope of making her my wife? I wrote letters of thesevarious imports and then destroyed them. A kind of paralysis was upon mythinking. And then I would leave my room and wander into the streets, visit the cafés, and find temporary forgetfulness in lively scenes andgay faces. 

And one night when I was in the French quarter at dinner I became alertto the conversation of two men sitting at a near table. They spokefamiliarly to each other, almost as brothers. But I sensed that they hadbeen separated for some time. At last one of them made references toFrance and England, and I concluded that he had been abroad. Both weretypical planters, with goatees and broad hats, coats of elegant materialbut widely and loosely tailored. As I followed their words almost thewhole condition of America unfolded itself to my understanding. 

The tenor of the talk was concerning cotton, the demand for it abroadand at home, and the effect that that demand had upon the South and thewhole social and political life of America. Within thirty years past allthe Northern States but Delaware had abolished slavery. What would havekept slavery alive after all except for the cotton gin and Eli Whitney, what but England's great machinery development for spinning and weaving, which made the demand for cotton more and more?

The demand! Where there is a demand it must be supplied, and everythingmust give way to the processes of furnishing that supply: land, slavery, what not. Then there are general references to life and to labor. Afterall, all labor is slavery they say. Apprentices, farm hands, factoryworkers are slaves. All this struggling mass of toilers must, in thefate of life, be consumed in the great drama of furnishing clothes andfood and roofs for those who can pay. But cotton needs more land. And isnot the territory of the United States, the great commons and domains ofall the states, North and South, to be used by them for their severaland common benefit, for the intromission of property: slaves or cattleor utensils? It seems to me, now that I hear these men talk, that I amcompelled to listen everywhere in America to schemes of trade, materialprogress, the accumulation of money. These planters go on to ask whylines should be drawn across the territory of the United Statesforbidding slavery north of the line and permitting it south of theline. This territory had been paid for equally by the treasure and bloodof all the states. Blood for land! Then slavery on the land to raisecotton! And was not Jefferson prophetic when he wrote that the extensionof this divisional line in 1820 alarmed him like a fire bell atmidnight? It betokened sectional strife: the North against the South. And about trade! For as the Southern States grew richer they would havemore political power, could dominate the North. Some one must dominate. There must be a supremacy. And what would this growing hostility leadto? What would future inventions do to exacerbate it? What of the steamengine, what of machinery, what of unknown developments?

I could not help but think of the bearing that all of this had on my ownlife. 

But finally as they paid for their dinner, lighted cigars, and becameless energetic of mood, one asked the other: "Have you ever heard fromthe girl?" The reply was: "Not a word. How could I? I didn't leave myname. It was best to close the matter by leaving no trace of myself. "And the first asked: "Wasn't your name on the draft?" "I had gold, a bagof gold. I simply turned it over to the new husband and went my way. "

I was all ears now, studying, too, the face of the man who wasconfessing to the bag of gold. Was there a trace of Zoe in him? I couldnot be sure. I seemed to see something about the eyes, but it fadedunder my scrutiny. At best this man was only Zoe's grandfather; and myfather's blood was nearer to Zoe than his. 

They started to arise from the table. I wished to follow them. But I hadnot paid for my meal. I beckoned to a waiter. While he was coming thetwo planters strolled leisurely from the café arm in arm and in intimateconversation. 

I was hurrying to be away and to follow them--I scarcely knew why. Theywere gone when my waiter came. I asked him who the planters were. Hedidn't know their names; only knew them as rich planters who oftenvisited the café. I left the café and tried to find them, but they haddisappeared. And I stood on the curb watching the iridescent ooze of thesewage in a runnel of the street seep along like a sick snake. 

Creole beauties, negroes, planters, roughs, gamblers, passed me. Thestreets were noisy with trucks. The air was hot and lifeless. The sceneabout me suspired like the brilliant and deadly scales of a poisonousreptile. I was sick at heart. I was overcome with terrible loneliness. Iwas in love with Dorothy and I was Zoe's brother. I was caught in thisgreat dramatic ordeal of America without any fault on my part. Whatshould I do? Yes, my ambition. To get rich. That was labor enough. Andthere was my farm back in Illinois. Why was I here after all? Was itsome dream? I would wake myself. I would return to my place, my duty. What else could I do? I went to the wharf to find a boat to St. Louis. 

CHAPTER XIX

I was listless all the way home. Passing through Jacksonville I seemedto sense a coldness in the manner of some of the people. Even wherethere was a smile and a bow, to which I could take no exception, Iinterpreted an attitude which said: "The Englishman: the fellow whokilled Lamborn. "

Was the town dividing as to me? I was sure of Reverdy and Sarah, andDouglas, and the president of the college and his wife, and some others;but for the rest I suspected that envy had seized upon a pretext for itsexercise. For I was rich; I had availed myself of mowers and all the newmachinery for farming and I was a competitor, a man possibly growingmore and more in the way. My reception in many quarters seemed distant. 

I went directly to the farm. There was my house which I had built withmany hopes. There was the hearth to which I longed to bring a wife. Buthere it was, only for me, for my habitation and rest from labors in theambition to be rich! Mrs. Brown opened the door and welcomed me with adiffidence. "Where is Zoe?" I asked. Mrs. Brown replied quickly: "Zoehas not been seen nor heard of for more than a week. I got up onemorning, and as she didn't appear I went and called her. She was gone. I saw Mr. Clayton about it. The last I heard no one had seen her. "

My feelings were mixed of regret and relief. I was fond of Zoe. My senseof justice was enlisted in her behalf. I was fearful for her future, both for the misfortune that might befall her and for the complicationsthat might accrue to me in her living away from my guidance. For therewas Zoe's property. But on the other hand, if Zoe were completely out ofmy life I might win Dorothy. 

I walked reflectively toward the fireplace. Should I not write toDorothy and tell her of Zoe's disappearance? For surely Zoe would not goaway unless she meant to stay. She had roving, adventurous blood in her, and an English will. Could I rely upon the hope of her staying away, andthat she would not figure in my life in the future except as to theland, the money? Yes, here my hands were stuck as in honey. And whencould they be freed and cleaned of it? While I was reflecting upon thesethings Mrs. Brown walked to the mantle and taking a letter from ithanded it to me. It was from Dorothy. 

"Dear James, " the letter read, "I was never more depressed in my lifethan I was after your departure; you must know that I would be. In thefirst place, Reverdy is so very fond of you and esteems you so much, andthat counts with me. For he is the best and truest man I have everknown. And I am sure that you are honorable and kind; and you have askedme to be your wife, and any woman worth noticing is moved by a requestlike that if she has any respect for the man whatever. But this seems tome the most terrible situation that a girl could be placed in. I havethought it over until my mind goes around in a circle, and I cannotrelate things clearly any more. And of course I have talked it all overwith mother. You can be sure I would not take the pains to do this, northe pains to write you in detail, if you had not entered my mind in aserious way. Frankly the only misgivings I have of you, and I beg you toforgive me for saying this, is the fact that your father would do such athing. I cannot understand it, my mother can't. What was he that hecould do such a thing with the prospect that he would injure you, hisson by another marriage, in so many ways and so deeply? He could nothave overlooked these things; nor the feeling that exists in America, particularly in the South, against such an alliance. But putting thesethings out of mind, you cannot possibly assure me, or any other woman, against the future. There are the property interests; but if these wereout of the way there is the relationship. And I blame myself deeply, forI knew that Zoe was your sister almost as soon as I first came toJacksonville. With this knowledge I should not have come to your partiesor put myself in a way to be liked by you. I should have only beenpolite to you when you came to Reverdy's house. For any otherassociation, I ask you to forgive me. I have written you many letters, and then torn them up. Perhaps I shall send this one. It is as good asI can do. It says everything now except that I am profoundly unhappy, that I shall never see you again--and to wish you happiness under thecircumstances fills my throat with a kind of suffocation. And so I writefarewell--and can hardly mean it--and yet it must be farewell. "

A kind of calmness came over me as I read the last word. There areanxiety and fear, and stir and ministration while the sick are alive. But with death there is quiet in the house. Calmness comes to those whohave striven to heal and to save. And with the words "farewell" beforemy eyes a dumb resignation came into my heart. Dorothy was gone from meand forever! But here was my life left to me to work out, and myambition to pursue. I grew suddenly strong and full of will. I walked tothe door and gazed for some minutes over the prairie. Then I saddled ahorse and went to find Reverdy. 

It was something to see the brother of the woman I loved; but I mustfind Zoe if possible. 

Reverdy was off somewhere with Douglas. Douglas was working upon theplan of introducing the political convention system in Illinois, as itprevailed in New York. He wished to step from the state's attorneyshipinto the legislatureship. He had newspaper supporters; he had manyfriends, as well as many foes. But he was fighting his way. 

I talked with Sarah of my trip to New Orleans and played with littleAmos. I asked Sarah at last about Zoe. Reverdy had already done all hecould to trace her. The stage driver had been questioned, but knewnothing. Some one had seen a girl, probably Zoe, walking north fromtown. Outside of that nothing had been heard. The facilities for findingher were so primitive. How could posters be sent around, how phrased?How could constables and sheriffs in the surrounding counties benotified? And if an advertisement should be published in the localnewspaper where would it reach? Upon what basis could I seek to regainZoe, if she did not wish to return? Sarah and I discussed theseproblems. But if she had met foul play how could that be discovered? Iseemed quite helpless, yet since it was the best I could do I placed anadvertisement with the newspaper. Then telling Sarah that I wished tosee Reverdy, I returned to the farm. 

CHAPTER XX

I had much to do, and work kept me from brooding. It was three daysafter I had gone to find Reverdy that he came to see me, bringingDouglas. My first words to Reverdy were concerning Zoe; but Douglas atonce took a hand in that subject. She would either turn up after alittle wandering about the country or she was gone for good. If she hadmet her death it would be known by now, in all probability. I could besure that she knew better than to go south. Her likely destination wasCanada, or northern Illinois. There was much going on in Chicago toattract an adventurous girl. Should I not go there for her? But it wasonly a chance that I would find her. What of her property, herinterests? Let them rest until an emergency arose. 

In truth Reverdy and Douglas had not come to see me about Zoe, but toenlist my support in Douglas' ambition to go to the legislature. Douglaswas now twenty-three years of age. He had been in Illinois just threeyears. During that time he had become a lawyer, had had the law changedso as to be appointed state's attorney. He had only held that officefrom February to April of this year, when he had organized a conventionat Vandalia to choose delegates to the national convention for nextyear. He had fought down opposition to the convention system; he hadsuccessfully managed a county convention in which he had been nominatedfor the legislature. Now he was out upon the stump, speaking in behalfof state policies like canals and railroads; and there was the questiontoo of removing the state capital from Vandalia to Springfield, whichmight constitute a leverage for a vote for internal improvements. Douglas was in favor of both. While slave interests were seeking landfor cotton, the agrarian interests in Illinois were awake to the need oftransportation facilities and markets. As I had wheat and corn to sellbesides cattle and hogs, and would have them in increasing quantities, Ishould use my influence in behalf of these measures and in behalf ofDouglas, who had a vision of their need and a practical mind forsecuring them. Douglas did not hesitate on the matter of internalimprovements. He believed that they should be made by the state. Thatobviated the centralization flowing from national aid. Let Illinois useits own resources for building canals and railroads. Let the state'scredit be pledged. What state had greater natural riches? The Illinoisand Michigan canal must be completed. The rivers must be made navigable. At least two railroads must be constructed, which should cross the statefrom north to south, and from east to west. The credit of the state mustbe pledged for a loan of money; and the interest on the loan should bepaid by the sales of the land, which Illinois had been granted by theFederal government for the canal. 

Douglas was full of youthful enthusiasm for this work of building upthe state. I could see his great energies moving like a restless tidethrough them as he talked these projects over with Reverdy and me. I wasonly too glad to lend him my help. It was to my interest. I trusted hisjudgment, too. I saw moderation and wisdom in his policies. 

Already it was apparent that Douglas stood upon no idealisticimmovability when the main thing was at stake. And hence, when the billwhich was brought in on the subject of railroads, appropriated the moneyfor eight railroads instead of Douglas' two, and bestowed consolationshere and there to counties in order to get their support, Douglas showedhis reluctance, but gave his vote. The state capital was moved toSpringfield as a part of the give and take of logrolling. 

But on the occasion of this call Douglas stood for a very moderateprogram, as I have already said. When he was elected and had legislativepower he surrendered his moderation in order to get the railroads. Infact the people were moving in this direction; there was muchmagnificent dreaming and hazardous experimentation and the generalresult could not be prevented. 

I had gone to see Reverdy, partly to inquire about Zoe, partly with thehope that I could gain help as to Dorothy. Now he had come to me withDouglas; and all the talk was of politics, with no chance to drawReverdy aside for a private word. When they arose to leave Reverdy tookmy hand. His eyes grew wonderfully deep and sympathetic. Then with aslap upon my back and a congratulation that I would help Douglas, thetwo departed. 

Then I began to think whether I should write Dorothy. Yes, her letterdemanded some reply. As I sat down to write, Dorothy's view became minein a flood of emotion of love's willingness to sacrifice. And I wrote:

"Dear Dorothy: The only thing I can say in my own behalf is that I foundmyself suddenly placed in this position as Zoe's brother, withoutunderstanding, or only understanding gradually what it meant to me, orwould mean to any one else. I have been learning all of these things;and your letter makes them clear to me. I did not come straight home butwent to New Orleans; and your letter had been here some days when Ireturned. I must tell you that Zoe disappeared in my absence. I don'tknow where and cannot learn. I am fearful for her; and there are manypossible complications. But I am powerless to do anything at this time. She may never return. She may fall into strange hands and make some newrelations which will come back upon me and upon any one I cared for withembarrassing results. I am in a position where I can make no assurances. I feel like asking you to forgive me for causing you any suffering oranxiety. I should not have asked you to marry me. It was thoughtless;but I could not with my experience and knowledge of things understandall that my request might mean. As you are Reverdy's sister I can't helpbut feel a tender and protecting interest in you, whatever may come ofit. And I hope life may deal with both of us in such a way that any harmI have done you will be overcome by some good that I may be to you. Andwithout asking to see you again I still keep the hope that fate will begood enough to let me meet you sometime when a clasp of the hand will bewelcome to you and with no consequences that are not pleasant. "

And then I sealed the letter for mailing and retired; but not to sleep, rather to turn restlessly for some hours in the night. 

CHAPTER XXI

Fortunately for my peace of mind I had much to do and much to interestme. The country was developing rapidly under my eyes. Thousands of farmswere coming into cultivation. The prairie grass was vanishing before thecorn. Villages were springing up everywhere. Jacksonville was growing. Afuror of land selling, the selling of lots and blocks in the newlyformed towns, swept over the state. And my own farm had increased invalue, both because of the care I had given it and because of thegrowing population. For in truth, while Illinois had about 160, 000inhabitants when I came to it, now as we approached the year 1837 it wasestimated that there were nearly 400, 000 souls within its borders. 

Douglas had no sooner become a member of the legislature, as it seemedto me, than he resigned to take the office of register of land inSpringfield, which was now the capital of the state. He was reported tome to be making a great deal of money now, sometimes as much as $100 aday. I saw him in the summer. He was a figure of dash, self-possession, energy and clear-headedness. He confided to me that he intended to runfor Congress. He was now twenty-four, a political leader in his party, fearless, dreaded, and resourceful. 

Douglas had advised me to read political history. Accordingly, duringthe long evenings at the farm, I had gone through Elliott's _Debates_and the _Federalist_. My grandmother sent me De Tocqueville's _De laDémocratie en Amérique_, which I read in French. 

But now I began to see that abolition sentiment was growing. Societieswere being formed and had been for about two years in the northern partof the state. Here in Jacksonville the agitation of the slavery questionwas frowned upon; but it was fermenting under the surface of southernsentiment. 

I was now treated to an American panic, and times were hard. The Eastwanted a tariff to protect its manufacturers; the South wanted land andslaves. Texas had been filling up with Americans since 1820. She secededfrom Mexico and declared her independence now; and General Houston, aVirginian by birth, a Tennesseean by residence, had taken command of theTexas troops, and after the Alamo massacre, had defeated the Mexicanswith terrible slaughter in the battle of San Jacinto. The New Englandconscience excoriated these things and attributed them to themachinations of the slavocracy. But while Douglas had no mastery of thetariff question in its details, his mind shot through to the generalphilosophy of it. He often said to me that books and works of art shouldbe admitted free of duty. He was wont to laugh at the New Englandconscience which could swallow the tariff and the growing factorysystem, and yet reject with such holy loathing cotton and slavery. Hecould not handle statistics, but he was a master of principles. 

As my grandmother was writing me regularly of affairs in England, of theprogress of events, of the building of railroads, of CharlesWheatstone's electric telegraph, and of the new books of moment, I on mypart was attempting to keep her informed of my life, and of the swiftlymoving panorama of Illinois life. And here I insert one of my letters toher because it covers so much of the ground of this time of my life. 

"Dear Grandmama: I have before written you of my friend Mr. Douglas whocame to Illinois just a little while before I did, and who has had sucha phenomenal rise in life in this new country. He is now making ready togo to Congress, and I am to be one of the delegates to the conventionwhich is expected to nominate him. Having resigned a very lucrative postin the Land Office, he has gone into the practice of law and the pursuitof politics. For the latter he has a positive genius, as his whole mindis taken up with visions and plans for the development of the country, and for the aggrandizement of the United States. He is honest andoutspoken, courageous even to audacity; but he is sometimes accused ofdevious ways, and of taking up anything that has a stomach in it. But noone can say that he changes his principles; rather he avails himself ofopportune conditions, which are many, to advance himself and the thingshe believes in. The country has no truer friend. Though I am an alien Iam a resident, and therefore I can participate in political affairs andhelp him without being naturalized. At the present time Douglas is inSpringfield, and is much in the office of one of the newspapers there, to which he contributes editorials sometimes. Recently the office wasattacked by some men who had been accused of trickery of some sort bythe newspaper. Douglas was present; and, though he is a little fellow, he helped to beat off the attacking parties; and in the general assaultthe sheriff was stabbed by one of the editors; but the matter has allblown over. 

"My own unfortunate affair has the appearance now of dying down. 

"A very terrible thing has happened in the killing the Reverend Lovejoyat Alton, a town not far from Jacksonville. He was running an abolitionnewspaper which was offensive to the slave interests or the peaceinterests, if you want to call them that. And persisting in hisagitation of the slave question they undertook to destroy his press. Inthe altercation Lovejoy was shot. There is great feeling over thematter. 

"It is impossible for me to convey to you the intellectual atmosphere ofthe country. It is so full of contradictions and cross currents. Forexample, you come to believe that a Whig is against slavery. Then someone comes forward to propose a certain General Harrison, a leading Whig, for President in 1840; and some one arises to show that when he wasGovernor of Indiana, when it was a territory, he tried to introduceslavery, contrary to the Ordinance of 1787. I wrote you of thisOrdinance before. Then there are the most numerous groups of people ofevery sort of weird convictions; some organized to oppose Masonry;others to curb the Irish and the Catholics; others to prohibit the useof wine and all intoxicants; others to advance the cause of free love;others to socialize the state. There are also religious societies hereof every description, such as the Millerites who are now preparing forthe Second Advent of Christ which they believe will take place in 1843. They are already making ready to leave their business, get their whiterobes, and await the Epiphany. In this state, at Nauvoo, a group calledMormons, who came here from Missouri, founded their faith upon a newrevelation brought to light by two miraculous stones, said to have beendiscovered by a man named Joseph Smith. They practice polygamy, as inpatriarchal times. They are already stirring up opposition tothemselves, for where every one is so good and in his own peculiar way, hostility must result. And in this Democracy, so-called, all the reallygood people are in the business of forcing others to their own way ofthinking. I must tell you also of a branch of the Presbyterian churchwhich separated from the old church on the question of predestinationand infant damnation. Of Baptists, Methodists, and others there arenumerous sects, which in England would be frowned upon as various formsof ludicrous non-conformism. De Tocqueville's book, for which my thanksto you, dear grandmama, will preserve a very faithful picture of Americaof this day. 

"And it is refreshing, strengthening to the mind and clearing to theeye, to see Douglas and to hear him talk about all these things. Hestands so clear, so pure of stock so to speak, amid all this variegatedgrowth of political and social heresy. The other day when I was inSpringfield I looked him up. Here he was talking of the Lovejoy matter, which led him into a cataloguing of the abolitionists, the anti-Masons, the Spiritualists, the Mormons, free lovers, old centralists, with theWhigs. I think he is proud that he has no hobby in the way of an idealor ism. He seems unmagnetic to all such things. If he does not look withsuspicion upon the reformer and accuse him of masking some selfishpurpose, he is likely to think that the reformer is something of a fool. He gazes with an eagle's eye over the whole of American activity; hesees the South interested in cotton, the North concerned with itsgrowing factories. Steam, iron, coal, and land figure in his deductions. He sees the country rising to power on them. And he sees men--whatevertheir professions--trying to advance their own interests. Hence helaughs down these queer political and religious groups; and while hedeplores the death of Lovejoy, he takes it as a matter of course; thewringing of the nose brings forth blood. He is kindly and most loyal, fearless, clear-minded, and powerful; but he is unmoral. He sees theplay of life. He sees the stronger getting more, Texas coming eventuallyto the United States, though blood be shed. The drift of things isimpelled by great forces of ancient and world-wide origin. He believeswith all his soul in the superiority of the white race, and that it mustrule. At the same time Democracy is the thing, but Democracy let looseonly after the philosophical channels have been cut. Notwithstanding hislaughter at Mormonism, for example, he would not suppress it. He wouldlet it work out its own fate. Free thought and free speech will kill it, or it will survive in spite of them because of its inherent strength, ifat all. All together Douglas is very admirable to me. I think he is agenius; one of those human beings who was born old but who will alwaysbe young. And here he is in a country that is changing and growing likea village crowd upon a stage. Already Chicago has more than 4, 000, andwe are soon to have canals and railroads, thanks to Douglas more than toany other man in Illinois. 'The Great Northern Cross, ' a railroad, issoon to be built starting at Meredosia on the Illinois River and runningto Jacksonville. 

"As to my own affairs, dear grandmama, I have nothing to wish for in theway of material progress. Upon my return from New Orleans, whither Iwent in order to think down an unfortunate love affair, I found that Zoehad run away. I do not know where she is, and cannot learn by any meansat my present command. Though, if Douglas is nominated for Congress, Imean to go about with him through the state. That will give meopportunity to search for her, particularly if we go to Chicago. Dowrite when you can, as letters are especially welcome to me from youhere in this somewhat lonely life. "

CHAPTER XXII

Because of the gossip concerning Zoe, and the fact that I had killedLamborn, opposition was made to me as a delegate to the Congressionalconvention. I was an alien too; but that did not count. I was a residentand a large land owner. 

Though Douglas was but twenty-four years of age, he was already a giant. Opposition gave way before him; he stepped on his foes; he brushedtangles aside. A Mr. May, who was now in Congress, wanted to return. Buthe found he could not simply assume the nomination and place theresponsibility for the assumption upon the request of "many friends"--avague and specious way of covering up his own seizure of the honor. Hehad to face the convention system which Douglas had introduced intoIllinois politics. And Douglas had Morgan County, his first home inIllinois, back of him; and Sangamon County, his home since he had goneinto the legislature and the Land Office. Douglas was nominated. 

A cry went up. An experienced Congressman, Mr. May, had been ruthlesslyput aside for the sake of an ambitious stripling! The Whigs rejoiced andsaid that no nomination than that of Douglas could suit them better. Andthe Whigs were powerful enough. They were coquetting with theAbolitionists; and they stood for the tariff and the bank. Besides, times were hard. It had been said that Jackson had set the tide of moneyscarcity to flowing; Van Buren had increased it. There were alsodisgruntled factions because of Douglas' so-called high-handed tacticsin capturing the nomination. 

Then to make things worse the Democrats nominated a state ticket uponwhich two of the candidates had been in the Land Office. So had Douglas. Hence the cry: the Land Office Ticket. Douglas had made money, thereforedown with him! Only poverty and humility deserved honor. 

I not only opened my purse to Douglas, for he was not in fact affluent;but I decided to travel with him in the campaign. True to his courageand his self-confidence he met his Whig opponent, Major Stuart, face toface in joint debate at Springfield. I was greatly thrilled with thiscontest. Major Stuart was very popular, an old resident, an officer inthe Black Hawk War, and a brave one, Reverdy told me. He was of powerfulphysique, standing more than six feet, and equal to an arduous campaign. At Springfield Stuart and Douglas came to blows. Stuart tucked Douglas'head under his arm and carried him around the square; meanwhile Douglasbit Stuart's thumb almost in two. As a debater and campaigner Douglaswas his superior. He made friends by the hundreds everywhere. He wentdown among the gay and volatile Irishmen who were digging the Illinoisand Michigan canal, and won them to his cause. I was with him, watchinghis methods, marveling at his physical resources, his exhaustlessoratory, the aptness and quickness of his logic. 

In the midst of the summer we decided to go to Chicago. Douglas'clothes, his boots, his hat, were worn almost to pieces. We were drivinga single horse hitched to a buggy. The horse was weary; the harness wasa patch of ropes. We could have made these things good with purchasesalong the way, but Douglas put off the day. At last we decided to makethem in Chicago. He was loath to let me use my money for such needs asthese, seeing that I had already contributed so much to campaignexpenses. But I overbore his wishes. 

We were a comical pair driving into the hurly burly of the new city ofChicago. It had recently received a charter. But what a motley ofbuildings it was! Frame shacks wedged between more substantial buildingsof brick or wood. Land speculators swarmed everywhere; land officesconfronted one at every turn; lawyers, doctors, men of all professionsand trades had descended upon this waste of sand and scrub oaks aboutthe lake. Indians walked among the whites; negroes as porters, laborers, bootblacks, were plentiful; there were countless drinking places and newhotels; there were sharpers, adventurers, blacklegs, men of prey of alldescription, prostitutes, the camp followers of new settlements, housesof vice, restaurants, gardens. And with all the rest of it evidences offine breeds, and civilizing purposes in some of the residences andactivities. After all a city was to be built. 

And here we were--a sorry pair indeed! Douglas, worn from hiscampaigning, battered and frayed; myself, dusty and unkempt, enteringChicago behind a horse dragging its body harnessed in patches to arattling buggy. We laughed at ourselves. 

Douglas and I went to a clothing store where I insisted upon fitting himout with a suit and a hat. We bought a new harness for the horse. Thenwe set forth for meals and drinks. 

Somehow I felt that Zoe might be in some concert hall singing for themeans of life. A darker idea crossed my mind, but I put it away. I toldDouglas that I meant to find Zoe, if I could. After our meal we wentfrom place to place in this quest. Douglas did not try to dissuade me, but he looked at me keenly as if he wondered why I wished to find Zoe. Why, after all? As years elapsed I would be rid of all associated memoryof her in Jacksonville. Might not Dorothy come back to me if she knewthat Zoe had wholly vanished from my life? Yet something of a sense ofresponsibility, and something of an affection for Zoe kept my mind fastto the idea of finding her. Up and down the streets of Chicago Douglasand I walked, looking for Zoe. 

Once I heard a woman's voice singing "Annie Laurie. " I rushed into theplace whence the voice came, followed deliberately and patiently byDouglas. There stood a woman on a sort of platform. She was garishlydressed. There were idlers and drinkers at the table. When we came outDouglas said that the search was useless; that if Zoe was in Chicagoshe might be in a place so secret that I would never find her, except bychance. Yes, I understood. And if it had come to that, what could I dowith Zoe, if I found her?

Chicago was not long in discovering that Douglas, the marvelous boy, wasin their midst. He must make an address. They erected a platform andbilled the town. I stayed near until Douglas rose to speak. He lookedfresh and tidy in his new suit, and with freshly shaven face. I heardhis great voice roll out over the large crowd collected to hear him. Iheard the applause that welcomed him, that responded to the first thrillof his fluent eloquence. Then I stole away to look for Zoe. 

I walked up and down the streets. I stood in drinking places. I entereda few places of vice. I stopped at the rear of a hotel, where the maidswere gathered together resting and talking after the day's work. But noZoe. 

At last I went down to the shore of the lake, rather to the shore of thesluice through which the Chicago River widened into the lake in asoutherly direction. I sat here on a rude settee. The air was warm. There were sounds and voices floating over me from the town. Occasionally I could hear the organ music of Douglas' oratory, as itdrifted indistinguishably to me. I was thinking, wondering about my ownlife; enthralled at the vision of this new country, which I could seetaking form before my own eyes. Then I became conscious of a couple on asettee near. I had not noticed them before. I got up and walked pastthem. And there was Zoe!

It was dusk, but she knew me. She gave a quick start, put her hand toher mouth. The man was silent, looking at her, unconscious of mypresence. I divined that she did not want me to speak to her. I heardher say to her companion: "Go back. Leave me here awhile, I want to bealone. I will return soon. "

I walked on a distance of a hundred yards or more. Then I looked back. Ithought some one, Zoe, or both of them were still on the settee. I couldnot be sure. I retraced my steps. When I came to the settee the man wassome distance away, going toward the town. Zoe motioned to me to walkthe way I had come. I did so; loitered and returned. Zoe was now alone. I sat down beside her; Zoe took my hand. 

My first thought was who was the man. Zoe proceeded to tell me that shewas working as a domestic, that this man was a voice teacher who hadrecently arrived in Chicago from New York. I looked at Zoe, as if to askher what was the nature of the intimacy that would lead her into thisassociation at night in this secluded place by the lake. I followed thisby asking: "Are you very good friends?" "He is kind to me, " Zoe said. "He teaches me and we walk out together and talk. "

Well, were there not then the usual consequences? Zoe was remarkablybeautiful; Zoe's morale had been broken by a terrible experience. Shehad gone through the disintegration natural to my own difficulties, ofwhich she was the occasion; the killing of Lamborn, the whole conditionat Jacksonville. And now, what was Zoe? I could not penetrate herreserve. She stroked my hands affectionately. The tears started from hereyes. 

I changed the key by bringing up her interests. "Reverdy is yourguardian and I am putting your property in his hands. Don't you needmoney? Why haven't you sent for money?" "Because, " Zoe answered, "Imeant to go out of your life, and stay out of your life. Now that youhave found me it does not matter. All I could do would be to run offagain. But why? This is a wonderful place. I love the excitement, thestir here. And I am in no danger here from being kidnapped. I don't wantto go into the country again. I will be all right, James, be sure. Butif you want to send me some money I will be glad. Only don't come forme; don't have me known in your life again. I am out of it now. Youcan't do for me what you could if I was white. Why try? Facts are justwhat they are. I will be all right here. I am learning to sing. Mr. Fortescue says that I have a voice. That's his name. He is a good man, you can be sure. " "He loves you?" I interrupted. Zoe did not answer. "Hewants to marry you?" I said, half interrogatively. "I don't believe I ammade for marriage, " said Zoe. "Where do you work?" I asked. 

Zoe was silent for some seconds, as if thinking. I repeated thequestion. "Don't ask me that, Mr. James, don't, " she said. "I know whereyou are, I know where to find you. And if you need me I will come to youif I can; but don't ask me where I am. " "How can I send you money?""Send it to the post office. Send it to Laurette Toombs. That's my namehere. But don't try to find me again. I just pray God all the time thatI may never be of any trouble to you; and I am afraid all the time Imay. " "Why?" I asked quickly. "Oh, I don't know; just because things arewhat they are. I have already made you a world of trouble. And you havebeen just as good to me as a brother could be. I just pray God not tomake you any more trouble. I must go. " Her voice had grown full ofpathos. "Where?" I asked. "Don't follow me, Mr. James, just let me go. Iam a grown woman. I must lead my own life. Just be good to me as youhave been--don't you understand? I grieve. So be good to me, let memanage myself and manage our meetings, whatever they are. Sit here nowwhile I steal away. Promise me. "

Zoe got up, stretched her hands to me, then hurried through the darknessto the town. I followed her with my eyes until she was lost to view. Thevoice of Douglas by a sudden swell of the air was borne to me. Onearticulate word fell upon my ears. It was "slavery. " His voice lapsedinto the silence of the receding breeze. I sat alone for a few minutes. Then I arose, and went to the place where Douglas was speaking. 

He was just finishing. In a burst of impetuous and impassionedeloquence he was pointing to the future glory of the United States, whenGreat Britain would own no foot of soil from the North Pole to the Gulf. The audience applauded tumultuously. Douglas stepped from the rudeplatform into the arms of bewitched admirers. He freed himself and cameto me. He brought with him a Mr. DeWitt Williams who had prevailed uponDouglas to accept his hospitality for the night. As Douglas' travelingcompanion, I was invited to share in the entertainment. 

CHAPTER XXIII

I had no opportunity now to tell Douglas that I had found Zoe. Her owninjunctions to keep her whereabouts a secret appealed to me. Perhaps hergoing away, the changing of her name, her determination to keep her lifefree from mine, made for a real solution. Perhaps she could continue inthis way for years, taking from me what I might send her. Perhaps Icould marry Dorothy eventually. Perhaps all would be well. Perhaps!

When we were driving toward Springfield the next day I was on the pointseveral times of telling Douglas that I had found Zoe. I wanted todiscuss the possibilities with some one. Prudence, however, dictatedsilence--and silence I kept. 

Mr. Williams was a prospering lawyer and land speculator. He had been inChicago for two years. His household consisted of Mrs. Williams and twochildren, and a Miss Walker from Connecticut, a sister of Mrs. Williams. The house was new and of some architectural pretentions, of brick, inthe style of the houses I had seen in New York. It was well furnished. There were two servants; altogether an air of elegance about theestablishment. 

We had a gay hour at breakfast, for Douglas was in one of his mostengaging and talkative moods. Mr. Williams was a man in the middleforties, and seemed colorless and unschooled in comparison with Douglas. He shared Douglas' political opinions, looked upon him with a certainawe; while Mrs. Williams and the children kept a reverential silence. 

But Miss Walker! I saw that she was disposed to match wits with Douglas. She was exceedingly fair of complexion, with lovely brown hair andgray-blue eyes, which had a way of fixing themselves in an expression ofintense concentration. Like sudden spurts of flame they lighted quicklyupon the barely suggested point of a story or an argument. She laughedfreely in a musical voice that encouraged Douglas to multiply anecdotes. Douglas enjoyed this admiration. But after all his attitude toward womenwas wholly conventional. He did not use his gifts to win them. The ideaof making conquests, even through his growing celebrity, did not enterinto his speculations. He was a man's man. If he was ever to beinterested in a woman it would be in the practical way of making her hiswife. He could be a husband, never a lover. His genius, though fed bypassion and virility, entertained no visions of romantic ecstasy. Hisinstinct was for the laws. 

Miss Walker was to Douglas only a delightful auditor, an aptinterlocutor. She looked Douglas through and through. She dropped wordsof dissent. She expressed her abhorrence of slavery and the South. Inreferring to South Carolina's attempted nullification of the tariff law, she said that if they ever attempted to secede they should be pushedout of the door and not held. I thought her critical of Douglas, inspite of the amazement which her eyes betrayed for his conversationalgifts, his self-assurance and brilliancy. Once she said that there was aright and wrong about everything. And when Douglas glanced up at herquickly, her eyes fixed him steadily. Douglas took up this challenge bysaying: "Yes, but who is to decide what is right and what is wrong; orwhat is to decide it? The progress of the country or the opinions offanatics?" "The minds of big men, " retorted Miss Walker. "And since youhave spoken of a great territory for the United States let me bespeakbig men for it instead. Persia you know was a big country. " "Why makethe two inconsistent?" asked Douglas. "You can have both. " "No, notwhere you make material progress the never-ending thought of every one. "

Mr. Williams had many things on his mind, that was apparent. His hastein eating, his self-absorption showed that. Yet after breakfast helingered for half an hour; and during this time Miss Walker, who hadnoticed me no more up to now than as one of the persons at the table, came to a seat near me in the living room. She was lovely to look at, but in a way half prim. The whiteness of her forehead, the fineness ofher hands, her air of clear and quick intellectuality, made her a personto inspire something of deference. And yet I felt myself captivated byher. Surely in every thinking man's heart there is a biological gropingtoward a woman of mind. Shadowy forms rise undistinguished before him. They are the children that such a woman can bear. He does not know thatthis is the urge; but nature knows. On Miss Walker's part, I saw herappraising me. She had come west where life was luxuriant and theaccidents of fortune abundant and men were strong. She had nowoverstayed her visit with Mrs. Williams. Was to-day her day of destiny?Here before her were the rising statesman of Illinois and a man who hadincreased a fortune. 

She was coming to Springfield shortly to visit. Would I be there? Did Iknow the Ridgeway family there, of which Edward Ridgeway, the founder, had been prominent in the affairs of Illinois, now dead some five years?If I came to Springfield she would be glad to have me call upon her. Well, perhaps she liked me and did not like Douglas after all. Was Idrawn to her? I felt some definite interest in her, that was sure. But Iwas not forgetting Dorothy. Dorothy could not be obscured by a light aswhite as Miss Walker's. And yet I had to confess that I was thinking ofMiss Walker in a half serious way. 

CHAPTER XXIV

Douglas' hard campaign was ended when we arrived in Springfield. Hishumorous remark was that he had the constitution of the United States. He was never so wholly fatigued that a drink or a meal would not pullhim up to a zest and a capacity for a further task. A little sleeprestored him to a new exuberance. Truly, he was one of the most vitalmen who come into the world for a restless career. 

On the way back we noted how rapidly the country was changing. Theinflux of settlers was very great. Villages, towns were springing upeverywhere. Farmhouses were multiplying. Douglas was enthusiastic overthe great prosperity which was evident. As an empire builder hisimagination was stirred. If he was not elected to Congress he would haveto go back to the practice of law. At this period of his life he was theeager and ambitious youth pressed in the matter of money. I saw hiscareer influenced, if not largely shaped, by material necessity. And asit turned out in the election in August he was defeated by thirty-fivevotes in a total poll of 36, 000. We did not know the result of theelection until several weeks later, due to the tardy facilities forcommunicating news. 

He had fought against an able and experienced campaigner. He had thehandicap of extreme youth. He had to meet the slurs of "interloper, " andthe charge of being a pushing newcomer. And yet he was almost elected. There were discrepancies in the count, too. He was urged to contest theelection. But the expense was too great. He was poor. 

There was much about Douglas to remind one of Napoleon: drive, will, resourcefulness, exhaustless energy. Too bad to remit such a man to thebusiness of getting clients. He was not a plodder. He was a mind who sawmen in large aggregations bound to each other by policies and interests. He knew how to handle them as material in empire building. 

On that ride back to Springfield he talked to me of many things thatgave me an insight into the workings of his mind. For the dreamer, thevisionary, he had no patience; he felt contempt for the agitator and theradical. In a theory preoccupying the human mind he saw something akinto madness. Mormonism, abolitionism, all the various forms of propagandawhich made American life so clamorous, found a common classification inhis tabulation of men. What was really before the country? Truly, theconquest of the wilderness, the production of wealth, the development ofnational power; but always the rule of the people too. "There are twothings in my life, " he said to me. "One is the fact that I got mad at myuncle, and the other is the inspiration that I get out of theseprairies. Add to these what mind I have, and the sum is myself. "

When we parted in Springfield, and I was about to return to my farm inJacksonville, he could not thank me enough for what I had done for him. But I was his friend, and why not? I saw him later when a dinner wasgiven at Quincy in honor of the Democratic governor-elect whose successDouglas had done so much to bring about. All the speakers paid tributeto Douglas amid storms of applause. They assured him that his firmintegrity, the high order of his talent had endeared him to the people;and that he would be remembered in two years with another nomination. 

As soon as I saw Reverdy I told him that I had found Zoe and all thecircumstances and about Fortescue. Reverdy thought that I should sendZoe money for living expenses on the first of each month; and so Ibegan. 

But neither Reverdy nor myself could work out any permanent program forZoe. After all, what was humanly possible? Zoe was now about nineteen. If she was dealt with justly as to her property what more could I do? Ifthere was danger from Fortescue, or any one else, I was powerless toprevent it. Since she did not wish to live with me, I had no power tomake her do so. 

In November Reverdy and I went to Meredosia to see the locomotive whichhad been shipped from Pittsburgh for Illinois' first railroad. All ofthe horses and oxen of the neighborhood were required to pull the hugeiron thing up the banks of the river; and scores of men in ant-likeactivity worked about it to place it upon the rails. Douglas was in thecrowd, happy and enthusiastic. He joined the party, headed by GovernorDuncan, in the first journey that a steam train ever made in the state. He tried to make a place for Reverdy and me; but the Governor had filledall the seats with his friends: so we stood as spectators, while the newwonder moved on its way, pulled by the queer locomotive, amid the shoutsof the crowd, responded to by the calls of those on board. 

Going back to Jacksonville I ventured to talk to Reverdy about Dorothy. He knew well enough what my feeling was for her. He knew the story; heknew her attitude. He did not share in her fears, in her feeling aboutZoe. He was frank to say that Zoe could do nothing, could be nothingthat need affect my life in any way more serious than if her skin waswhite. But he explained that Dorothy had the southern view; and if Iwished to wait and see if she could work herself out of doubts, well andgood; and if I could not further hope he could understand that too. Iwanted to write to Dorothy to tell her that Zoe was still away and thatI thought she would never return. But perhaps after all Dorothy'sattitude was founded in an innate prejudice against the relationship towhich she would make herself a party by marrying me. Was this notperfectly unreasonable? It made me distrust Dorothy's nature at times. What was she after all? Finally, however, I wrote to Dorothy as best Icould and after many ineffectual trials at expressing myself. Promptlyenough a letter came back. It was not lacking in kindness, but itoffered no hope. Hurt and listless I tried to turn my thoughts to otherthings. There were always my growing enterprises--and yet to what end?To be rich, to be richer. 

When December came I had a letter from Miss Walker. She was inSpringfield at the Ridgeway mansion for a visit through the holidays. There were to be parties and dances. Why did I not come over? And Iwent. 

I looked up Douglas at once. He was making some headway at the practiceof law, but his energies, for the most part, were absorbed in perfectingthe organization of his party. He was putting together a compactmachine. He was on the very edge of being the leader of the IllinoisDemocracy. What infinite details there are to any given end! If it isthe building of a house, tools must be bought, trees felled, foundationsdug. A carpenter's finger must be bandaged so that he can go on with thework. Cloth must be found for the bandage and a string with which to tieit. And so Douglas was engaged in infinite talks on the corners, at thenewspaper office; he was making short trips; he was writing dozens ofletters, he was inserting editorials in the newspapers. But he had timefor the gayeties of the season. 

He was always the gallant, the amusing wit, the ready raconteur. We weresuch friends! Again Miss Walker had both of us for attendants; but uponsuch widely different footing. I was a suitor with many doubts. Douglaswas not a suitor at all. He came to her to enjoy the keenness of hermind. 

But as I was English, and as Miss Walker thought herself the next thingto it, she took me aside as an understanding confidant as to the lifearound us. Springfield was almost a mudhole. She was offended by it, butalso she found much in it to make her laugh. There were the gawks; thesprawling ill-bred men; the illiterate young women; the mushroom life;the haste, the crudities of living; the ugliness and the disorder; theunsettled, ever restless, patchy catch as catch can existence; theattempt, in a word, to make life, to build a town, a capital. All thisshocked or amused her. Did I not see it with English eyes used totranquillity and order? She wondered why Douglas had left the East. Hecould have risen there in time; and when he should have done so it wouldhave been an eminence. Had he not acquired brusqueness, vulgarity sincecoming west? A man of undoubted gifts, she conceded--yet. Perhaps I washer favorite after all. 

To test her out, I put my own story around the life of a friend, tellingher of a man who had married an octoroon, leaving a daughter of colorand a son by a previous marriage with a white woman; also describing theconsequences that had ensued. Miss Walker heard me with interestedattention. She admitted that the complications were serious. Undoubtedly, many women in the West would care nothing about such arelationship, there was so much indifference here to form and breeding;anything for a husband, anything to get along in the world. Well, ifMiss Walker from Connecticut could see my relationship to Zoe in such alight, could I blame Dorothy from Tennessee for judging it moreseriously? Perhaps after all this was a woman's reaction to my story. 

Later I had a party at my house, inviting all the young crowd ofSpringfield to come over. Douglas came too, and Reverdy and Sarah andMr. And Mrs. Sturtevant. It was just after Christmas. We had a roaringfire in the fireplace. We popped corn and pulled candy. I brought in myold fiddler from the woods to play for us. We danced. These festivitieswere in honor of Miss Walker, and she entered into the fun with greatzest. Day by day we were better friends. When she came to go back toSpringfield she was no longer Miss Walker to me, she was Abigail. I wasnot in love with her--there was Dorothy still in my heart. Yet I wasvery fond of her. I thought she approved of me. As we parted she askedme why I did not come to Chicago. It was fast growing into a city. Whatbetter field for making money? Vaguely the idea entered my mind andbegan to mature. 

CHAPTER XXV

The truth was that the loneliness in my life was depressing me; it wasin a sense work without hope--only the hope of being rich. While I couldnot doubt Abigail's fitness as a mate for me, and though I was indesperate need of a companion, Dorothy would not out of my mind and myheart. My indomitable will had asserted itself in the pursuit ofDorothy. Even if my judgment had favored Abigail I could not have givenup Dorothy. To surrender the hope of Dorothy was to leave something inmy life unfinished; and that was contrary to my tenacious purpose. Icould not hear Abigail's voice without comparing it to the softermodulations of Dorothy's. I could not be in the presence of Abigailwithout feeling that there was something more kindred to me in thepersonality of Dorothy. And yet I had to confess on reflection that Iwas not sure of this. Dorothy wrote to me on occasion, but there wasreally nothing in her letters to keep hope alive. All the while my lifewas going on in labor, in planning, in building, with Mrs. Brown to keepmy house. Even Zoe did not write to me. I knew that she was receivingthe monthly allowance from the fact that my letters were not returned. However, at last one was sent back to me. 

Then in the late winter I was surprised one day by the visit of astranger--and a strange character he was too. He introduced himself tome as Henry Fortescue of Chicago--and as Zoe's husband! I remembered; hewas the voice teacher with whom Zoe was sitting on the lake front. Hebegan by saying that he had come with very unwelcome news and upon asorrowful mission. Zoe was dead! Zoe had met her death by foul play. Shehad been found strangled to death in her bed. 

I glanced in horror at this unknown character. He went on to tell methat suspicion had fastened itself upon a half-breed who came to thehouse where Zoe lived. He had been arrested, was soon to be tried. As toFortescue's visit here, he had come to see about Zoe's land andinterests. He had married Zoe some weeks before her death. Withoutknowing much about such matters I went at once to the point. 

I asked Fortescue what proof he had of the marriage. I began to suspectFortescue of being the murderer himself. So many desperate deeds weredone in this country; so many dishonest expedients resorted to formoney, for land. My question gave Fortescue embarrassment. He stammered, colored a little, then went on to say that he had witnesses to themarriage; that the ceremony was not performed by a minister, but that heand Zoe had entered into a common-law marriage. I did not know exactlywhat this was and at once determined to see Douglas about it. 

Meanwhile I was compelled to suffer Fortescue to wander over the farm. He took it upon himself to do so; and I scarcely knew how to forbid him. I did stay him, however, from looking through my house. I saw that hewas a hungry dog, an impoverished wanderer who had fallen into means, if, indeed, he was Zoe's husband. 

The question now was, how to get him away; how, without denying he hadany rights, to keep him from assuming an attitude of proprietorship. Ithought it best to go with him. Accordingly, as I had proposed that wego to Springfield at once, we rode partially across the farm in going toJacksonville. I told Fortescue frankly that I would have to look intohis proofs, and that I meant to go to Chicago, and that it was my dutyto see to it that Zoe's murderer was punished. 

I stopped a few minutes to talk to Reverdy and Sarah. Reverdy was allsympathy and wondered what misfortune would befall me next. Sarah weptfor Zoe's fate and for the trouble that it involved me in. She went tothe window and looked out. There was Fortescue waiting for me, apparently glowing for the good fortune that had come to him. And herewas I in the house of Dorothy's brother and unable to put out of mindthe hope that Zoe's death would change Dorothy's decision, even while Iwas grieving for Zoe. Like a spider at its door Fortescue was waitingfor me. Whether he or I should be more benefited by Zoe's death remainedto be seen. As I left I asked Reverdy to write Dorothy and tell her whathad happened to Zoe. 

When we got to Springfield I left Fortescue to his own ways. I lookedup Douglas and asked his advice. As always, he was busy in politics. Hewas now master of his party's organization. But as I had torturesbecause of my position he had anxieties because of the lack of means. The law business did not bring him a great deal; it could not, for hismind was on other things. He was trying to be secretary of state inorder to supplement his earnings as a lawyer. He was catching atwhatever offered to float himself along. His life was, therefore, patchy. Would it ever be a whole, well-fitting garment to his greatgenius?

I took up with him at once the matter of Zoe's common-law marriage. There was first the question whether Zoe could enter into any marriagewith a white man. But I had settled that with Mr. Brooks, when goinginto that matter of my father's marriage with Zoe's mother. Zoe was nota negro, not a mulatto; she had less than one fourth negro blood. Therefore, she did not fall under the inhibitions of the Illinois lawforbidding marriages between persons of color, negro or mulatto, with awhite person. Douglas confirmed what Mr. Brooks had told me; and he gaveme the opinion that a common-law marriage was legal, but that Fortescuewould have to bring witnesses to Jacksonville to testify that he and Zoehad taken each other as husband and wife; and that this had beenfollowed by an assumption of the marriage relation. 

Douglas advised me to look carefully into the proofs. Well, why shouldhe not return to Chicago with me and help with the investigation? He waswilling. Meanwhile Fortescue was waiting for me. When I told him that Iwas coming to Chicago with a friend he looked suspicious, as if hethought that I was trying to evade him. As he began to press me then, saying that we could all travel together, I forgot myself for the momentin a rise of temper. "The land can't get away; nothing can run away; andyou can't get anything until you prove your case. I am going to Chicagowith a friend. I will see you there. You can go your own way. " Fortescueacquiesced apologetically; and having done with him for the time, Iturned again to visit with Douglas. 

I had never seen him in a more interesting mood. He wished for goodfortune to befall him so that he could do something for the education ofthe young, since his own opportunities had been limited. In thisconnection he spoke of the grants of land which had been made toIllinois for institutions and schools of higher learning. And whiletalking of the Louisiana territory which Napoleon had granted toAmerica, and of Texas whose recent independence the United States hadrecognized, his imagination glowed before the future power and glory ofthe country. He was delighted that so many Germans and Irish, fleeingfrom disorder and oppression in Europe, were seeking freedom andopportunity here, and filling up the new lands. But while my inheritanceof a few thousand acres was already perplexing me, Douglas was stillfree of the great calamity that would befall him because of the newdomains! If Zoe as one of the numerous persons of color had alreadyinvolved my life, how terribly would the curse pronounced upon thedescendants of Ham fall upon this Titan, this nation builder! Douglasindulged his satirical talent in an amusing description of GeneralTaylor who was now talked of by the Whigs for President. He charged theWhigs with cunningly picking rough and ready characters, pioneer types, for their appeal to the plain people--pioneer types who reallyentertained monarchistic principles. There was already much talk thatTexas was being drawn toward the United States by the slavocracy. Well, what of it? The main thing was to get Texas. What is this sanctimonioustalk in prose and verse in England about Texas? Douglas was verycontemptuous of all of this. 

Fortescue took his way somehow to Chicago. Douglas and I traveledtogether. The first thing that Douglas sought to do was to look into theevidence as to the murder of Zoe, and this with reference to Fortescue'spossible part in it. To this end Douglas sought the assistance of Mr. Williams. Though he kept a law office, his larger interests were realestate dealings. But he dropped everything to assist Douglas and me inarriving at the truth. We went to the jail and saw the half-breed whowas charged with killing Zoe. The state's attorney had the half-breed'sconfession. Though he was half insane from drink when he did the deed, the prosecutor intended to ask for the death penalty. He was ahalf-breed!

We intended to look up the witnesses, to learn from them thecircumstances which attended the murder. The prosecutor, however, wasdisinclined to let us do this, and refused to give us their names. Hestood on a matter of pride that he had the case in hand himself and hadprocured the confession. Douglas seemed to think it was unnecessary topursue the matter, and that was Mr. Williams' attitude. In the hurry ofthese hours, dinner time having arrived too, we got into a haze--atleast I did--about getting anything more definite. Douglas thought thatthe real question was the common-law marriage. If I wanted to prosecuteFortescue for the murder I could do it any time. In the meanwhileFortescue would have to prove the marriage in order to derive anybenefit from Zoe's death. 

We asked Fortescue what evidence he had of this marriage. "For one thingthis, " he said, bringing forth a ring which had the words, "to myhusband Henry from Zoe" and the date engraved in it. Douglas wishedFortescue to produce the witnesses who were present at the marriage. This Fortescue refused to do. He became suddenly stubborn, almostsullen. In a bold way he said to us: "If you are not satisfied withthis, I'll prove my case. " "You will have to do that anyway, " saidDouglas, "and perhaps as this matter goes on you will not be soconfident. " Saying that he would come to Jacksonville with his proofsFortescue left us and disappeared. 

Then Douglas turned to the talk of politics with his friends. Mr. Williams went to his office. I was left alone. Had we accomplishedanything? I went back to see the state's attorney by myself, and askedhim if he did not suspect Fortescue. The state's attorney said that thecase was perfectly clear against the half-breed; that my only interestin the matter was the marriage and to go back and defend that if Ichose, though he felt sure that Fortescue would amply prove that he hadmarried Zoe. I dropped the whole thing and called upon Abigail. 

She began at once to urge me to come to Chicago. This was to be a city. The opportunities here were infinitely rich. The life was increasinglymore interesting. She knew of my troubles, knew of the murder, for ithad been the talk of the town. She urged upon me a new life. I did notneed to sell my farm--leave it. Come to Chicago where fortunes werebeing made and where greater fortunes would come to men of vision andenergy. We took a walk by the lake, which in reality only came to theshore far south of the town--south of the mouth of the river. Here thewaves rolled upon the sand. What purity and blueness in the sky! To ourright as far as we could see wastes of yellow sand, dunes, brush, smalloaks and pines! Back of us a ragged and wild landscape being broken orleveled by builders, by the opening of streets and roads. 

Abigail was truly my friend, wise and sympathetic. Her clear-cutthinking sheared away accidental things, fringes of irrelevancy. I wasso glad to get her opinion on the various things that perplexed me. Sheadvised me to make the best fight I could against Fortescue. After thatcome to Chicago whatever the result. We parted with a clasp of the hand. Then I went to find Douglas. 

CHAPTER XXVI

At times afterward I reproached myself for not doing more to fix theguilt of Zoe's death upon Fortescue. Particularly as it became clear tome that his freedom from that responsibility energized his descent uponme for Zoe's interest in the farm. What had my generosity, foolish andboyish, come to after all?

But on this trip to Chicago, whatever our resolutions were on the way, they melted or scattered when we found the half-breed had confessed;also when we talked to the witnesses. Douglas, too, though he had notslackened his interest in my behalf, had politics to occupy his mind. The presidential campaign was on. He was the leader of his party inIllinois; and his presence in Chicago was opportune. 

The half-breed was quickly tried, convicted, and hanged. And before Iwas scarcely ready Fortescue had come to Jacksonville with his witnessesto prove the marriage. I tried to engage Douglas as my counsel, but hewas deep in campaigning. Accordingly I turned again to Mr. Brooks. Therewas nothing left of defense to us but the cross-examination of theseunknown persons who came to swear that they were witnesses to thewedding. That Zoe and Fortescue had lived together as husband and wifethere was little doubt. Had I not seen them together on the lake frontin Chicago? Had not Zoe then hidden herself behind a suspiciousreticence? These things corroborated the witnesses. 

Mr. Brooks' cross-examination was not very acute. Perhaps there was notmuch to ask. But we had no witnesses with whom to rebut Fortescue'sclaim. I could not conceive how I could find any such witnesses; but Ihad gone to Chicago and left without trying to do so. And neitherDouglas nor Mr. Williams had suggested it. 

If some six men and two women were willing to swear that they werepresent to hear, and did hear, Zoe and Fortescue pledge themselves toeach other, what could break the evidentiary effect? Fortescue had paidthe expenses of these witnesses to Jacksonville; there was no attempt tohide that. But why not a formal marriage? They did not wish it that way. Was not this marriage as valid as any? To be sure. Then the ring! Wemade little of a defense. Mr. Brooks seemed overcome by the emphaticanswers. We lost. And Fortescue came into my life as a co-tenant, abrother-in-law. 

Of course I inherited from Zoe too; but here was Fortescue, sharing inevery acre, in every piece of timber in my house. Only a division by acourt could set off to him his share and leave me in individualpossession of mine. 

He came to Jacksonville to live. He went into possession of the hut. Whether I would or no, I had to confer with him about various things, fences, taxes, road service. He knew nothing of farming. He often cameto ask me what to do, and I could not rebuff him. He brought strangecharacters about him, particularly some of the witnesses who had helpedhim to sustain his claim. He sent to borrow utensils, householdnecessities. He visited with my workmen, wasting their time, puttingdisturbing ideas into their minds. He was a consummate nuisance. And asusual I had much to do and to think of, and I spent lonely evenings whenI did not see Reverdy and Sarah or the old fiddler. 

It was now left to me to institute a partition suit to divide the landbetween me and Fortescue. Mr. Brooks managed this admirably for me. There was danger that Fortescue might compel a sale of the whole farmand a division of the proceeds. There was my house, the attractiveimprovements around it, bright to the envious eye. Fortescue only hadthe hut. But at last acres were set off to him. I kept my house and theremainder of the land. And this was ended. 

But nevertheless I thought more and more of selling the farm, of movingto Chicago. Fortescue was an impelling cause to this step. I should inthat event leave Reverdy and Sarah and little Amos. I should see less ofDouglas. But I began to be desperately annoyed by my situation. I couldnot wholly live down the killing of Lamborn. There was the memory ofZoe. There was now Fortescue. And in Chicago there was Abigail, to whomI was writing. She had become a very close friend. She was urging meconstantly to take up my residence in Chicago. But I could not leavewithout selling the land. I did not wish to sacrifice it. I did notthink it wise to rent it. Indeed I could not rent it and derive the sameincome from it that I could by working it myself. I had not yet found apurchaser who would pay what it was worth. 

It was now the autumn of 1840. Sarah had two children beside littleAmos, a boy born in August whom they had named Jonas. Dorothy had comefrom Nashville to help Sarah with the heavy household burdens that werenow upon her. 

I saw a good deal of Dorothy at Reverdy's; she came to my house onoccasions when I entertained. She was as lovely as ever, but she did nothave Abigail's mind. She was luxurious in her temperament, aristocraticin her outlook and tastes. She did not stimulate me as Abigail did, butshe involved my emotional nature more powerfully. Something ofresentment fortified my present neutral attitude toward her. Why, afterall, need Zoe have affected her so profoundly? Perhaps my own thinkingwas toughened by my experiences. I had killed a man for Zoe; I had beenthrough a trial with Fortescue. Surely if there had been any bloom on meit had been rubbed off. Why had not Dorothy seen in me a practical, courageous heart, who took his fate and made the best of it? Was theresomething lacking of depth, of genuineness, in Dorothy's nature?

There was much stirring now in the country due to the campaign. The logcabin was apotheosized; hard cider was the toast to America's greatness. The hero of Tippecanoe, the pioneer soldier, Indian fighter, the plainman, the Whig, was pitted against the well-groomed and resourceful VanBuren. Reverdy, because of his admiration for Douglas, was for VanBuren; and Dorothy had no thought of any other allegiance. We made upparties to attend the rallies, to see the marching men, to hear thespeeches. Douglas, who was campaigning with tireless energy, came toJacksonville to address the people. He was now twenty-seven and amaster. He controlled the party's organization in Illinois. Practice hadgiven solidity and balance to his oratory. He moulded the materials ofall questions favorably to his side. Audiences rose up to him as ifhypnotized. He swept Illinois for Van Buren. But Harrison and Tyler wereelected. The vote of Illinois was a personal triumph for Douglas. 

CHAPTER XXVII

A few days before Dorothy returned to Nashville we spent an eveningtogether, first at Reverdy's home, later in a walk through the country. It was moonlight of middle November, and the air was mild with a lateaccession of Indian summer. I sensed in Dorothy a complete erasure ofeverything in my life that had stayed her coming to me as my bride. Itwas not so much what she said as it was her attitude, her tone of voice, her whole manner. But my own troubles had formed a nuclear hardness ofthinking in me, which like a lodestar attracted what was for me, andleft quiet and at a distance what was not mine. 

I was delighted to be with Dorothy, but I did not stand with her on thebasis of my former emotional interest. In a way she symbolized the falsestandards, the languorous aristocracy of the South. She was a presenceof romantic music, a warmth that produces dreams. She was not theintense light that shone around Abigail. I had a letter from Abigail inmy pocket. Parts of it wedged themselves through Dorothy's words as sherattled on more and more. I might as well have been thinking of mytroubles; but in point of fact it was of Abigail. 

Dorothy was not like Reverdy, nor was she like Sarah. If she had onlybeen! A pathos was on me in this walk. The wind was blowing. The foresttrees murmured like agitated water. The moon sailed high, and Dorothywalked by my side and talked. There was an evident struggle in her tobring me to her, to evoke the old ardor which had reached for her. Butwe returned to Reverdy's at last, and there had been no touch of hands, no tenderness. She stood momentarily at the gate. I gave her my hand, and with an impassive goodnight, she turned to the door and I went myway. 

Then regret came over me. Had I wounded her? And if I had, could I winher back? Did I wish to? I could not entirely bring myself to relinquishDorothy for good. But did I really care for Abigail? I took out herletter and began to read it again in order to clear my thoughts: "DearJames: You must be beginning to perceive that day by day you areaccomplishing certain things and thus forming your life. I admiregreatly the way you took hold of the farm and the success that you havehad with it; and I admire too the loyalty with which you have stood byyour duty. Now I cannot help but urge you to come to Chicago. I feelsomething of a draw at times to return to the East; but, on the otherhand, this growing town has an increasing fascination for me. It isalready enlivened and bettered by many eastern people; and you wouldfind a more interesting atmosphere than where you live now. I think someof the southern people who have settled middle Illinois are as fine asany one I have ever known; but I do not like the habits and theprinciples that go along with the southern institutions. If you couldsell the farm you could use the money to make a very large fortune inChicago. The campaign has interested me very greatly; it has beenriotous and colorful and full of extravagance. There is no real truth inall this business. It is the lesser reality of deals and bargains, wheedling, persuasion, and vote-getting. And no one has the gift ofspecious logic and stump hypnotism better than Douglas. To me he is oneof the greatest of small men. Have you read Emerson or Lowell yet? Hereare new men of real thoughtfulness whose minds are upon the truth whichdoes not fade with passing events. These questions about Texas andOregon, about tariffs, about Whigs and Democrats, what are they but thecackle of the moment? And yet there is something pathetic about Douglas. Why does he not settle to the solid study and experiences of the law?Why this catching at this and the other opportunity? Mr. Williams saysthat Mr. Douglas has just accepted the Secretary of Stateship forIllinois. What an absurd thing for a lawyer to do! His career is sochangeable, so flashy. He leaves himself open to the charge of scheming, grabbing, all sorts of things, though all the while he may be doing thebest he can. Forgive my opinions, I love to express them to you. I lookupon you as a fresh mind who can value the truth of things about it. Douglas may become a very great figure; but I can't help but believethat his restless life may bring him to disaster. Let us hope it won't. Meantime I wish for happiness for you. Your letters are very interestingand I am always glad to get them. Write me as often as you can, give mepictures of your life, the people. And do move to Chicago. Your friend, Abigail. "

I read this letter over more than once with reference to itscharacterization of Douglas. I could not share her opinions. Why couldshe not see that Douglas had always done his best? After all, what ofthe law? Douglas could not be patient with the rules that related to aland title while his thoughts were far afield in plans for theterritorial greatness of his country. Meantime he had to earn his bread. He had never stooped to dishonor, to chicanery. He had caught at thedriftwood of supporting offices in his swimming of the new stream ofprimitive life. He was poor. He had enemies. His eye was upon aneminence. He had to make the best of the materials at hand. 

I understood Douglas' difficulties because I had had difficulties of myown. I had not faced the world with poverty. But I had faced it withZoe. I had not battled in issues which were influenced by the negro, butI had a social experience which Zoe had made and complicated for me. IfDouglas was now in an office that belittled him, I was sorry, for I washis friend in all loyalty. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

Scarcely had Douglas settled as Secretary of State, when he resigned theoffice to become Justice of the Supreme Court of Illinois. Abigail wroteme a most amusing and ironical letter on this sudden shift of hisactivities. "What do you think now?" was her query. "I think he is aswell fitted to be judge as to be Secretary of State, which is not atall. "

When I wrote to Abigail I had news to tell her with reference to thefarm. I believed I had found a purchaser in Springfield; and my tradingtalks with Washburton, for that was his name, had taken me over there anumber of times. On one of these occasions I saw Douglas. He had beenpresiding over a proceeding that had something to do with the Mormons, in which he favored them. He was charged with placating their intereststo win them to his political fortunes. "It was nothing of the sort, "said Douglas. "I only did my duty. What have I to gain by favoring them?There are a great many more people who hate them than those who have anyuse for them. Even my enemies know that. Do you know they say, Jim, thatI grabbed this judgeship by some high-handed method. It's all a lie. Ican do nothing to please some people. They don't like my conduct on thebench. You know how crude things are here. My throne is a platform witha table; and the audience sits so close to me that I can almost touchthem. The other day I walked off the platform and sat for a moment withone of the spectators, an old friend. Somebody wrote this up for thenewspaper and made a terrible fuss about it. I cannot please somepeople, no matter what I do. "

It was the winter and spring of 1841 that I was visiting Springfieldabout the sale of my farm. President Harrison had died after a month inoffice, and John Tyler had become President. Douglas was elated overthis. "Tyler is a Democrat, " said Douglas. "And we have taken victoryout of defeat after all. He has vetoed the new bank bill true to theprinciples of Jackson; and he has been read out of the Whig party fordoing so. Every member of his Cabinet but Webster has resigned, youknow. The Whigs are getting nothing out of the triumphs of log cabinsand hard cider. They are all a humbug. Their sins are finding them out. We will put in a thorough-going Democratic party in 1844. "

Douglas was talking the annexation of Texas. "Think of it, " he said. "Aterritory 750 miles broad added to the domain of this country! The wholecontinent by right belongs to us. Do you think, if we once get it thatthere will be any whining that we should give it up? You have seenIllinois filling up; you have seen canals and railroads make theirbeginning here. Let's do the same for Oregon. I want you to rid yourselfof any feeling for Great Britain, and use your English will to themaking of America. Do for America what you would do for England, if youwere living there. She would take the whole earth if she could get it. Let us take all of North America. 

"I am planning to run for Congress again. I am stifled in this littlelife. There is not enough for me to do here. I am restless to get outand help build up the West. "

I asked Douglas if I should move to Chicago. His eyes brightened. "Yes, "he said in his quick way. "That is a place of great opportunity. Gothere, Jim. I will be there myself, eventually. You can become very richthere with the capital that you have for a start. "

Then I told him that I was trying to sell the farm; that I had aboutmatured my plans to move. He was delighted. "I'll miss you here, but afriend is a friend to me, even up there. Go and build. You can help makea city. I want to see this state come into its own. I want to seeschools everywhere, giving the advantages to the young which were deniedto me. This is the most wonderful of states. Be glad that your destinybrought you here. At the present rate of immigration the population ofIllinois will soon be a million. When you came here the population ofthe United States was about twelve million; now it is about seventeenmillion; it will soon be twenty million. Do you appreciate thesefigures? Look at the New Englanders, the Irish, the Germans that havepoured into Illinois. Some of them come here with ideas that I findhostile to my ambitions. I have to win them to the liberty of theDemocratic party, and keep them from stopping halfway, contented withthe fraudulent liberty of the Whigs. I take them in hand at politicalgatherings; I love to persuade and shape them. I will fill thispopulation of Illinois with love of Democratic ideas. What have theWhigs to offer? Look at the mixed blood of the Whigs, at their taintedancestors. I take the greatest pleasure in exposing them. It is my funand my work. "

With all this intellectual activity, Douglas was not a reader. I hadfound Emerson through Abigail; I read the _North American Review_, andCooper's novels as they appeared. But Douglas had contempt for the moralidealism of New England. He thought it impractical. "You can't have abrain without a body, " said Douglas. "Let the country develop its bones, its muscles, attain its stature. These men think the world is run byrighteousness, especially if you let them prescribe the righteousness. But it isn't. It is run by interests. Roofs, clothing, and food must betaken care of; then cities. These men get preconceived ideas of God, andthen want to force them on the great impulses of life. But they can't doit. "

I ventured to say that the two ran together. His reply was that nothingof idealism counted that did not harmonize with material interests. There would always be war so long as interests conflicted. The lesserhad to give way to the larger. War was a factor in the game ofsupremacy, of life. If Great Britain stood in our way, fight her. IfMexico made trouble about Texas, conquer her. War is the execution ofthe law of progress. Reason can go only so far, and then the sharpnessof the sword is necessary. 

CHAPTER XXIX

I sold the farm at last and moved to Chicago. It was with sorrow that Ibroke up my association with Reverdy and Sarah, and their little family. But I was much relieved to be out of the situation that had been so fullof annoyance to me. I had friends to be sure, but I was English; I was alittle reserved even yet; I was a driver, a money maker. Then there hadbeen Zoe and Lamborn. Besides, the life on the farm was monotonous. Theend of the day marked lonely hours for me. And I was looking forward tomuch association with Abigail. 

I saw her frequently now that I was in Chicago. She was teaching school. Mr. Williams, his wife, their children, were my first friends, thebeginning of my new associations. 

I began at once to speculate in real estate. Mr. Williams proved aninvaluable counsel in these ventures. I made money faster than I couldever have believed it possible to me. I was now very well off attwenty-seven. But was life nothing but money making?

As I had sold the farm on partial payments I was compelled to makefrequent trips to Springfield to collect the purchase money notes; and Ialways saw Douglas unless he was away campaigning. By the new census of1840 Illinois was entitled to seven Congressmen instead of the fourwhich it had hitherto been allowed. A legislature had reapportioned thestate in such a way as to give Douglas a chance to be elected. Douglas'friends had called a convention. The re-apportionment of the state wascharged to be arbitrary; the convention was styled "machine-made" with aview to Douglas' nomination. Had he had a hand in this--the young judgeof the Supreme Court? If so, many others had had a hand in it. 

In the convention Douglas' friends rode roughly over the otheraspirants; and when he received the prize they withdrew and accorded himtheir support. All of this was the perfection of party organization, towhich Douglas, with a leader's genius, had directed his party from themoment he had set foot in Jacksonville. Douglas found an opponent in aWhig of Kentucky birth. A Democrat from Illinois, a Whig fromKentucky--such was the anomalous situation. And both agreed about takingover the Oregon territory. But Douglas was the better campaigner, themore winning personality, the more indefatigable worker. Like Napoleon, his sleep was intermittent, his meals eaten on the run. He made speechesfor more than a month of successive days. And he was elected. A memberof Congress at thirty!

I could see that the hard life was wearing upon him. Perhaps he was tooconvivial. There was hard drinking everywhere about him; and he did notabstain. He had supreme confidence in the lasting character of his ownvitality. He might be ill for a few days occasionally, but he was soonup and actively at work again. His "integrity is as unspotted as thevestal's flame--as untarnished and pure as the driven snow, " said alocal newspaper when his methods were assailed, and no one could facehim without believing that he had courage that would have its waywithout stooping to meanness, and vision that saw its objective throughthe hesitant dreams and sickly qualms of lesser strength. 

When I went to Springfield in the fall about my farm I found thatDouglas had been seriously ill for some weeks. The campaign hadexhausted him. There was more gentleness in his manner now than was hiswont. He held my hand warmly and was visibly grateful that I had come. He was heartened by this fresh evidence of my affectionate interest. Hetalked of his plans. He wished to visit his mother in New York State assoon as he could be about. He said that he was entering upon a new stageof his life--upon the beginning of his real career. He wished to havehis mother's blessing before taking his seat in Congress. 

When I next went to Springfield I found him gone. The place was lonelyto me. I collected my note and wandered about idly; passed the Ridgewaymansion where I had met Abigail; went through the new state house. Theyears between seemed so brief but so full of events. I was twenty-eight, Douglas was thirty; Reverdy had passed forty; Zoe was dead. My farmingdays were over. It all seemed a dream. My grandmother in England was nowin the middle sixties. There were steamships crossing the Atlantic, thefirst one four years before. Great forces here and in Europe, movementsof peoples, and interests were flowing to carry Douglas along for someyears, and to carry me and all others in their sweep. I was lonely inSpringfield on this trip. Douglas was gone! His career here seemedfinished, as if he were dead. Like a camper he had foraged upon thecountry, made his tent and taken it down. And now he was gone!Everywhere there was talk of war with Mexico. Had Douglas gone forth tobring this about in realization of his dream of America's greatness? Aman must be made president who would annex Texas. If there should be warlet it come. The land is ours. Our people have gone there. We must seizethe whole continent north of the Gulf. 

Now that I was separated from him how should I follow him day by day? Igot Niles' _Register_ in order to keep in touch with him. 

CHAPTER XXX

Large mercantile establishments were building in Chicago. Elevators andpork-packing plants fronted the Chicago River. The harbor was beingimproved by the Federal government. The population had risen to morethan ten thousand people. Great labor was necessary to keep thefacilities of life equal to the growing demands upon it. The first waterworks had been installed at a cost of $95. 50, and consisted of a wellalone. Now the city purveyed water through wooden pipes, laid under theground. The Illinois and Michigan canal, which Douglas had done so muchto originate, was nearing completion. The thousands of Irish laborersengaged upon the work added to the liveliness and colorfulness of thecity life. We had excellent mail service. Long since the drygoods boxhad disappeared which had served as the only depository of mail. Thehogs had been barred from the main streets, so that in my boarding placeat Michigan Avenue and Madison Street I was no longer disturbed bygrunts and squeals as they fed and wandered through the city. 

Mr. Williams and I had formed a real estate and brokerage partnership, and we were making money at a phenomenal rate. The air was vibratingwith the ring of the trowel and the hammer. Gardens and roadhouses hadappeared in the pleasanter places out of town. Everywhere in the centralpart of the city were livery stables, restaurants, saloons. The harborwas full of sailing craft. Every day saw the tides of emigration pourupon this hospitable shore. I felt the stir of the new life, the growingcity. I was fascinated with the money making. I had found new friends. My change of life had brought me happiness. 

Abigail and I saw much of each other and we talked of many things, andmuch of Douglas. I saw him as the symbol of this intense life, thismiraculous development. He seemed to me the man of the hour, the maneven of the age. 

No sooner was he sworn in as a Congressman than he proceeded to make hispresence felt. He did precisely what he had done in Illinois when hecame to Winchester, penniless and unknown: he seized an opportunity. Headmired Andrew Jackson with an almost unqualified heart, and he rose toJackson's defense in Congress. 

I have said that I was reading Niles' _Register_. Through it I was ableto follow Douglas' career in Congress from the beginning. 

Abigail had made friends with a certain Robert Aldington, who had alsocome west to teach school. And when we met at the Williams' residence ofevenings there were sharp exchanges of opinion between us about life, books, the new city of Chicago, the destiny of America, and Douglas. Aldington was keeping abreast with all the new books in America andEngland as well. He too had read De Tocqueville; but he was alsofamiliar with Rousseau, Voltaire, the French Encyclopaedists; withLocke. And he assured me that Calhoun, the Senator from South Carolina, had written a treatise on the philosophy of government which for depthand dialectic power, was a match for Locke. He also knew the poetsShelley and Byron. He had studied the French Revolution. He was watchingthe feverish developments of Italy and Germany. The tide of emigrationinto Chicago and Illinois furnished him material for infinitespeculation. What would this hot blood, seeking opportunity and freedomfrom old world restraints, do for the new country? He admired Douglas toa degree, but he disliked what he sensed in him as materialism. 

We were reading together the proceedings in Congress concerning the finewhich had been imposed by court upon Jackson at New Orleans when he wasin military charge of the city in 1812. Douglas had taken this as hisoccasion to make himself known to the House and to the country at large. He was nothing in Congress because of his achievements in Illinois. Hehad to win his spurs. He had contended with great force and brilliancythat Jackson, in declaring martial law, had not committed a contempt ofcourt; that if Jackson had violated the Constitution in declaringmartial law the matter was not one of contempt or for a local court tojudge. "Do you see, " said Aldington, "his mind runs in a channel ofpure legalism, and then it escapes between freer shores. " Aldingtoncontinued: "The trouble with Douglas is that he does not see thatidealism is as real as realism. Douglas is something of a sophist. I donot mean to disparage his value to the country. But he is a genius inmaking the course of Jackson consistent. He has applied the same art tojustify his own conduct. He will always prove an elusive debater; andyou see, after all, this makes against his candor. This is not the sortof stuff of which a thinker is made. There are men who will not triflewith facts. They are your Shelleys, your Emersons. These men make thebrain of a nation. Douglas may make its body, if you can make a bodywithout making a brain. "

"That's exactly it, " said Abigail. "But it is not possible to have astatesman as clear in his logic as Emerson, though dealing with coarsermaterial than philosophy's. Surely there is a chance now for some mindof deep integrity, of real spirituality, to do something for thischaotic, vulgar mass of humanity that is grabbing, feeding, trying tofoment war with Mexico. I am sure of it. Why this contempt of his forthe idealist, the reformer? He classes all sorts of grotesque, half-insane people with the high-minded thinkers of the East. And nowthat he is in Congress, and will have to face some of them, Adams forexample, I expect him to find a match. "

I tried to have my friends understand Douglas, as I understood him. Whatwas he doing in Congress now? Trying to get appropriations for therivers and harbors of Illinois. "Won't that ensure his reelection?"asked Abigail. "Yes, but do we not need the harbors?" I replied. "Whypursue Douglas with arguments like these?"

Abigail's argumentativeness made me turn to Dorothy. Did I want a wifewho had such definite opinions about masculine questions such as these?But now how to find Dorothy again? She had been back and forth betweenNashville and Reverdy's. We had exchanged only a few letters, with longsilences between. I began to depreciate myself for allowing Zoe oranything connected with her to thwart my will with reference to Dorothy. These meetings with Abigail and these conversations and arguments hadclarified my mind both as to Dorothy and as to Abigail. I wanted Dorothyand I did not want Abigail. This being the case why should I not go toDorothy and tell her so? If I went to her with the same will that I tookup the matter of the farm, could I not win her?

It was not many days before I had the rarest opportunity in the world togo to Nashville upon an interesting mission. Douglas suddenly appearedin Chicago. The session of Congress was over. He was going to Nashvilleto see Andrew Jackson. He asked me to go with him; and I took thisopportunity to see Dorothy. 

CHAPTER XXXI

I had heard much of Jackson and all his works of wonder: as the victorat New Orleans, the greatest hater of England, as the firm friend of theUnion against the rebellion of South Carolina, as the foe of the bank, as the most picturesque figure in America. He was living in retirementat Nashville. And to see this man! To see Douglas with him! Abigaillaughed at me for my enthusiasm. But also I was to see Dorothy, and tomake up my mind once for all--rather, to get Dorothy to do so. 

When we arrived in Nashville, making arrangements so that I should notmiss the visit to Jackson's house and the meeting between Douglas andJackson, I went to see Dorothy. Mrs. Clayton met me at the door. She wasgreatly surprised. But there was wonderful cordiality in her manner. Dorothy was out for the time but would soon return. In the meanwhileMrs. Clayton was eager to hear about my life and about Chicago. I toldher more or less in detail the circumstances which had forced me to sellthe farm. As to Douglas, she was devoted to him for his defense ofJackson. Jackson was a demigod to her and to the people of Tennessee. She wished she could be present to see Douglas and Jackson meet. Whycould it not be arranged and for Dorothy too? They all knew the Generalvery well. He had been a friend of Mr. Clayton's. Where was I stopping?Would I like to come to their house? My visit to Nashville was to bebrief; besides I wished to be with Douglas. She would like to entertainhim too. And thus we talked until Dorothy came in. 

Dorothy knew before many minutes that I had not come especially to seeher. She had heard of Douglas' arrival, of Douglas' mission. Between hermother's recapitulation of our talk and my own additions in herpresence, she learned of the events of my life that she did not alreadyknow. I could see that she was very happy. And for myself it was an easyreunion. 

She too wished to see Douglas and be present at the "Hermitage. " Whynot? She and her mother could easily presume upon the General'shospitality. Still, would I not be kind enough to arrange it? I stayedto the noonday meal with Dorothy and her mother. Then I went to thehotel to tell Douglas that I would come to the "Hermitage" with them. Idid not find him at first. He had gone to pay a call upon Mr. Polk, whohad been nominated for the Presidency as a young hickory to Jackson's"Old Hickory. " He returned soon and was glad to have Mrs. Clayton andDorothy come to the "Hermitage. " Then I went back to spend theintervening time with Dorothy. She was truly lovely to me now. Her hairwas more glistening and more golden; her eyes more elfin; the arch ofher nose more patrician. She was gentle and tender. It seemed that allmisunderstandings between us had dissolved. We did not mention any ofthe disagreeable things of the past. We communicated with each otheragainst a background of Zoe being dead, of my being gone from the farm. Chicago, its growth, its color, its picturesque location by the greatlake, made her eyes dance. She could not hear enough of it. She hadoutgrown the Cumberland hills. Her life was monotonous here. As I talkedto Dorothy I had a clearer vision of Abigail. I felt sure now thatAbigail had no magnetism for me. At the same time I began to recall whatI had thought of Dorothy: her southern ways, her aristocratic ideas, herleisurely life, her cultural environment making for the lady, for theWalter Scott romanticism. Chicago had blown the mists from my eyes. Ihad lived under a clear sky, breathed rough and invigorating breezes. Yet I was drawn to Dorothy. My mind was poised in a delicate balance. And as I had impulsively given Zoe half the farm, I now suddenlyproposed to Dorothy while turning from Dorothy to Abigail and fromAbigail to Dorothy. 

The afternoon was warm. The soft breeze was stirring the great trees, the flowering bushes on the lawn. A distant bird was calling. TheCumberland hills were dreaming beyond the river. And Dorothy suddenlylooked at me with eyes in which supernatural lights were burningbrightly. It was the look which in a woman comprehends and accepts theman who is before her; it was the secret and sacred fire of natureilluminating her vision and asking my vision to join hers in anintuition of a mating. With that look I asked Dorothy to be my wife. 

Her hands were lying loosely clasped in her lap. Her head was leaninggracefully against the tree back of the settee. She closed her eyes;gave my hand a responding clasp. "Be my wife, Dorothy, " I repeated. "Doyou really love me?" she asked. "With all my heart, " I said. And I did. It had come to me in that moment. "Do you love me?" I asked. "I havealways loved you, " she replied. "I have always admired you. I havewaited for you. I did not expect you to come. You see I am nowtwenty-seven. I have not been able to care for any one else. I could notmarry you before; and I could not marry any one else in the interval. Now I am very happy that you really love me. " "I do love you, yes, Dorothy, I have always loved you. "

Dorothy sprang to her feet, clasping her hands and laughing. "Let's tellmother, come. " "What?" I asked. "Why, isn't there something to tell?""You haven't promised to marry me. " "Oh!" exclaimed Dorothy, "does ithave to be by so many words? Very well, yes. " She took my arm and we ranto the house. We burst upon Mrs. Clayton and told her. "Oh, youchildren!" exclaimed Mrs. Clayton, half crying and half laughing. "Afterall this delay. I am so happy. "

She took me by the shoulders, looked at me, drew me to her, and kissedme. "Come, " she said, "it's time to go to the 'Hermitage. '" And we gotinto the phaeton hitched to a gentle old horse which Dorothy drove. Weentered the "Hermitage" and saw Douglas and the company and the hero ofNew Orleans. 

I presented Douglas to Mrs. Clayton and Dorothy. Then we went forward togreet Jackson. I was introduced to him and I saw Douglas taken into thearms of the great warrior and masterful President. 

He was now in his 78th year, thin of face, spare of frame, his body allsinew and nerve, his eyes brilliant with unextinguished fire. I loiterednear to hear what he would say to Douglas. He seemed to have a paternalpride in the young Congressman. He entwined his arm with Douglas', patted Douglas on the knee, looked into his brilliant and youthful face. And after assuring Douglas that his whole life had been a devotion tothe law, he expressed deep gratitude for Douglas' defense. "I havealways had enemies, " he said. "Now I am an old man and can do nothingfor myself, and so I am thankful to you. "

The old hero's voice shook, his hand trembled. And Douglas looked down, glowing with pride and saying: "I am proud to be your defender. You areand always have been the object of my greatest admiration. "

Mrs. Clayton, with a woman's tact, sought to relieve the tension of themoment. She brought Dorothy and me to the General and said: "General, mydaughter has betrothed herself to this young man, Mr. Miles. "

Jackson was seated upon a sofa. He arose, though with some difficulty, and taking Dorothy's head between his hands, he pressed a reverentialkiss upon her brow. "I knew your father; he was a good man, a goodfriend. Take my blessing. " And to me he said: "Mind that you are alwaysa man with her and for her, and against all the world for her. She isworth all your devotion. "

The circumstances seemed to affect him profoundly. He turned away fromus, as if to hide his tears, leaving us standing in a group. Douglasjoined us and extended his congratulations, and we departed together, Douglas to confer with Mr. Polk and the rest of us to return to theClayton mansion. For there was the wedding now to consider. I wanted totake Dorothy back to Chicago with me. 

Mrs. Clayton invited Douglas to take the evening meal at her house. Dorothy joined in the request and I ventured to put in a word. Douglashad to arrange then for a later call upon Mr. Polk. 

CHAPTER XXXII

This dinner was the most delightful of occasions. Dorothy was inbrilliant spirits. And Mrs. Clayton shared in her daughter's happiness. The colored servants, all slaves, affectionate and interested, manifested their joy in all sorts of lively and profuse attentions. Icould hear them laughing in the kitchen. Mammy, the old cook, wassinging; Jenny, the maid, came in and out of the dining room withdancing eyes, which she cast upon me, and scarcely less upon Douglas, who was talking in his usual brilliant way. It was pleasing to me tohear Mrs. Clayton agree with him about so many things. She was disturbedby the slavery agitation. She feared for the peace of the SouthernStates. She dreaded a negro rebellion. She commented upon the fact thateven the domestic slaves sometimes sulked or slacked; and that this wasdue to the talk of the Abolitionists. It was hard enough to keep paidlaborers in good discipline; how much easier to encourage the negroes toinattention to duty by attacks upon the system of slavery. But afterall, what was to be done?

Douglas referred to Calhoun's attempt to exclude abolition writings fromthe mails. He referred to this without approving of it. For Calhoun hadconceded the lack of power in the Federal government to interfere withthe freedom of the press; but he contended that the states as sovereignpowers could prevent the distribution of such literature within theirborders. Everywhere it seemed to me the slavery question divided reasonand thinking against themselves and brought great minds into absurdity. 

Douglas wanted the slavery agitation to cease, but on the other hand hedid not wish to interfere with the freedom of speech and of the press. Mrs. Clayton now recalled Harriet Martineau's visit to America of someeight years before. She had read _Society in America_ and _Retrospect ofWestern Travel_. Did I know that Miss Martineau had stopped in Chicagoand had described Chicago as it was then?

Douglas returned to the subject of the Abolitionists apropos of this, because Miss Martineau had made herself much disliked by siding withthem. He began to talk of Horace Greeley who had helped the humbug Whigsinto power in 1840 by his publication, _The Log Cabin_. It was nowmerged in the weekly _Tribune_, in which all sorts of vagaries wereexploited: Fourierism, spiritualism, opposition to divorce and thetheater, total abstinence, abolitionism, opposition to the annexation ofTexas. Douglas referred to a certain Robert Owen who had thought out apanacea for poverty, who had founded an ideal community at New Harmony, Indiana, which had proven to be not ideal and had failed. Then there wasa certain James Russell Lowell who was writing abolition poems andarticles for the Pennsylvania _Freeman_ and for the _Anti-SlaveryStandard_. Douglas classed all these agitators and dreamers together inhis usual satirical way. The ponderable move of national interests wouldcrush their squeaks. Here he made one of the most humorousclassifications, separating Democrats and nation builders from theragged and motley hordes of Fourierists, Spiritualists, Abolitionists, loco-focoes, barn-burners, anti-Masonics, Know-nothings, and Whigs. Hewas inclined to think that the infidel belonged with these hybridbreeds. Though he did not speak of God and had never joined any church, something of a matter-of-fact Deism was subsumed in his practicalattitude. The Democratic party stood alone against these disorderlyelements. Nationalism and the rule of the people were his lodestars. Hewas the son of Jackson in the principle of no disunion, and he was theson of Jefferson in the principle of popular sovereignty. 

The talk turned to Mr. Polk. As he was a resident of Nashville, Mrs. Clayton, on that ground as well as for political agreement, was heartilydevoted to him. These two talked of Mr. Polk's record as a Congressmanfrom Tennessee and later as Governor of the state. "Well, " said Douglas, "he is sound on the bank, he is against the tariff, he is in favor ofannexing Texas and settling the matter of Oregon. As usual the Whigs arevacillating, because their leader, Mr. Clay, is himself vacillating. "

What had all this to do with Dorothy and me? We had happier things ofwhich to think. We could commune with each other undisturbed whileDouglas and Mrs. Clayton settled Texas and Oregon. 

The meal was over and Douglas arose to depart. As I intended to marryDorothy before leaving Nashville, if she would consent to do so, I waswondering what I should do about not returning to Chicago with Douglas. Accordingly I asked him if I could see him the next morning. He fixedthe hour at ten o'clock, saying that a boat left for St. Louis at noon. With plans thus vaguely left, so far as they affected both of us, hedeparted. Mrs. Clayton said: "Reverdy has told me so much of Douglas. Now I have seen him, and he is all and more than I was led to believe. "

When she left the room I asked Dorothy if we could not be married thenext day. Well, but she had much to do to get ready; put the wedding offuntil December, or later. "You can get everything you want in Chicago, "I persisted, "and I want to take you back with me. " Dorothy had nottalked this matter over with her mother. She was not sure that hermother could be won to a plan so hasty. "Let's see her, " I said. 

For the whole evening we discussed the subject. Since Mrs. Clayton'shousehold would be broken up by Dorothy's departure, she had to readjusther life. She was thinking something of making a visit of some months inNorth Carolina. She could not make ready for that immediately. Why notcome to Chicago with us, make her home with us? She could bring thecolored servants. We talked until one o'clock. Then Mrs. Clayton adviseda night's rest on the matter. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

The next morning I awoke with such a feeling of repose, of being at homeat last. I was lying in a poster bed, which Mrs. Clayton had told me wasan heirloom from North Carolina. In my view was a lovely bureau ofmahogany; on a stand a vase of roses; at the windows snowy curtains; onthe walls pictures of Mr. Clayton in his soldier's uniform, and ofReverdy as a young boy and of Dorothy. 

I stretched myself between the comfort of the linen sheets, and turnedover on my side to smile to myself, as I looked out of the window intothe trees. I was at home at last! I thought back over my voyage acrossthe Atlantic, of the long journey from New York to Jacksonville, ofReverdy at Chicago with his Indian pony, of my illness and Zoe. All mytroubles had faded away. 

There was soon a knock at the door and Jenny's voice called to me thatshe had brought me water. I arose, dressed, and went down to the livingroom. Mrs. Clayton bade me such a kind good morning, kissed me on thecheek. In a moment Dorothy entered, radiant from her night's rest, andwith a lover's kiss for me bestowed so happily, yet with something ofmischievous reserve--all so charming!

Our thoughts were fresh for the discussion of the marriage. Mrs. Clayton thought that the wedding might take place at once, within a dayor two, at least, if I would not insist upon returning to Chicago for afew weeks, or until she had opportunity to close the house preparatoryto her visit to North Carolina. This arrangement quite suited me. Iwanted to have Douglas present at the wedding. So I hastened away totell Douglas what my plans were. 

I found him making ready to depart, but in consultation withpoliticians. He was running for Congress again in Illinois, and thepresidential campaign was on. But when I told him of my desire hethought for a moment, and consented. He was being importuned to make anaddress at Nashville. Now he would stay to do so and attend the wedding. I was very happy over these fortunate circumstances and returned quicklyto Dorothy. If only General Jackson could be persuaded to come, and Mr. Polk. We had many things to do. I set about running errands for Mrs. Clayton. Dorothy was notifying her friends, getting her veil, her dressinto readiness. Mammy and Jenny were cooking all sorts of delicacies;they had requisitioned old Mose who was the slave of a neighbor, Mr. Parsons, and the wedding preparations progressed with speed. I hadtraveled hither without the slightest expectation of this suddenconsummation and therefore had no clothes suitable for the occasion. Ihad to attend to that as best I could. 

The hour came. Douglas arrived with Mr. Polk, who had also been afriend of Mr. Clayton's. But General Jackson was unable to come. He wasnot strong. He sent a bottle of rare wine and a bouquet and his heartycongratulations; all by a colored messenger who was excited and voluble. General Jackson! It was less than a year when he passed from earth. 

Mr. Polk was a full-faced, rather a square-faced man, with broadforehead, packed abundantly at the temples, rather intense eyes, andlines running by the corners of his nose, which slightly looped hismouth upward in an expression of decision and self-reliance. He wasalready called a small man. But I did not see him so. He was of pleasingpresence of distinguished decorum, and chivalrous manner. But after allDouglas was the center of attraction. Mr. Polk escorted Mrs. Clayton tothe wedding breakfast, and Douglas took in Mrs. Rutledge, an aunt ofDorothy's. 

So we were married, and I was happy. I had found a wife and I had founda mother. Douglas departed, promising to see me in Chicago soon. Theguests went their way. I was here with Dorothy, with Mrs. Clayton, Mammy, and Jenny. 

There is something good for the soul in being for an hour, even if foran hour only, the central thought of every one; in having one's wishesand happiness the chief consideration of interested friends. And herewere Mammy and Jenny, who had no thought but to serve me and Dorothy;here was Mrs. Clayton, who strove so gently to attend to my wants, whatever they were, to put herself at the disposal of these first hoursof Dorothy's new life and mine. Mose was at the door with the horses andthe carriage, loaned by his master, to drive us into the country andover the Cumberland hills. Mrs. Rutledge lingered a while in evidentadmiration of me, and with happy tears for the radiant delight whichshone in Dorothy's face. 

We set forth with old Mose, who was talking and pointing out to me theplaces of interest, the hills, the huts, the houses which wereassociated with stories or personalities of the neighborhood. And herewas Dorothy by my side, scarcely speaking, her beautiful head at times, as we drove in secluded places, resting delicately upon my shoulder, hereyes closed in the beatitude of the hour. 

Mrs. Clayton's position came into my mind. What was this visit to asister? Was it not a pure makeshift, an expedient in the breaking up ofher life, the first step in an accommodation to Dorothy's loss? I hadsuch ample means. Why should she not come with me? Why separate Dorothyfrom her? Why leave Mammy and Jenny behind, who had served nearly thewhole of their lives in this household? I had learned to like thecolored people. What heart could withhold itself from Mammy and Jenny?These humble devoted souls whose lives and thoughts had no concern butto make Mrs. Clayton and Dorothy happy, and who had taken me into thecircle of their interest! What were the colored people but the shadowsof the white people, following them and imitating them in a childlike, humorous, innocent way? How difficult for selfishness, seeking its ownhappiness, to understand Mammy and Jenny, whose whole happiness andundivided heart were in giving happiness to Mrs. Clayton and Dorothy!

I spoke my plan to Dorothy, "Come, let's take mother, Mammy, and Jennywith us. Close the house for good. I want all of you. We can transferall this happiness to Chicago. I will get a big house. I have some onenow with whom to share my riches. This sharing is the beginning of myreal satisfaction in life. "

Dorothy took my hand, pressed her cheek against mine. "Oh, my dear, mydear!" was all she said. I felt her cheek moistening with tears. Thendrawing her to me I said: "Yes, my dear, that is my wish. Let us driveback now and tell mother. "

Mrs. Clayton was silent for some seconds. Then she said: "Aren't youbest alone? Take Mammy and Jenny if you wish. But perhaps I can't be amother to you, James; perhaps you won't want to be a son to me as timegoes on. These things must come to mothers and fathers. The daughtersfind new homes and go away. I did that. And now Dorothy has the sameright. "

"No, " I said, with emphasis, "I want you. I want to transfer this wholeatmosphere to Chicago. I want all of you with me. I do not wish you towander off on this visit. After that what, anyway? You should not beseparated from Dorothy. Come, and if you want to go on a visit fromChicago, well and good. "

If this was to be, there was much to do. Could we wait until the housewas rented, or at least placed with an agent, the furnishings stored ifnecessary? Yes, I could wait and Dorothy could wait. And day by day bothof us importuned Mrs. Clayton to come with us. She saw at last that itwas our dearest wish. And she yielded. 

In the meanwhile Dorothy and I were driving about the country or sittingunder the trees in the yard, living through great rapture, mothered byMrs. Clayton, and so constantly served by Mammy and Jenny and Mose. 

Then the day came. The house was rented. Mrs. Clayton stored some of herfurnishings. The choicest things she gave to Dorothy--lovely mahoganyand silver. 

On a morning, with Mammy and Jenny in our traveling party, with Mosehelping us to the boat, hiding his saddened spirit under a forced humor, with Mrs. Rutledge and many friends to see us off, we took ourdeparture. Again the musical whistle of the boat; again the stir andvociferous calls of the pier; again on the waters of the Ohio bound forSt. Louis. Again the great Mississippi. 

But Mrs. Clayton left us at St. Louis to visit Reverdy and Sarah. Shewould come to Chicago later. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

I took a house in Madison Street, some two blocks from the lake. Therewas first the business of having Mammy and Jenny registered, somethingsimilar to a dog license. But Mr. Williams helped me about that. 

I had not seen Abigail yet, but of course she knew that I was married. Avague faithlessness accused me. And yet I had never spoken a word oflove to her. It was my admiration for her and hers for me, rising up toask me why I had married Dorothy. Did I really know myself?

Dorothy was entranced with Chicago. She thrived under its more bracingair. She loved the bustle, the stir. We were now in the midst of thepresidential campaign, and Mammy and Jenny saw political enthusiasm in anew phase. Marching men passed through the street. There were shouts, torches, many speeches on America's greatness. 

Mrs. Clayton came to Chicago before the election and was all delightover the new life which had come to her. The pulsations of greatvitality in the rapidly growing nation were well exemplified inChicago's development. The country was bursting with commercialexpansion; it was lusty with the infusion of strong blood from Europe. Nearly a million Irishmen and Germans had been added to the populationsince 1840. Illinois, as a garden spot, had received her share of thesevirile stocks. 

The iron production, which was in a primitive stage when I arrived inAmerica, had now grown to be a great industry. There was anthracitecoal, which was first mined in Pennsylvania in 1814 on a veryinconsiderable scale; and now the output was more than five million tonsa year. It was supplanting wood in the making of steam. The Chippewashad ceded their copper lands on the south shore of Lake Superior, andthe mining and manufacture of copper had become an extensive industry. Gold was taken in large quantities from the Appalachians. There wereabout five thousand miles of railroad in the country as compared withthe something more than one thousand miles which it had in 1833. Thetelegraph was following the railroads. For in this very year, under theadministration of President Tyler, $30, 000 had been appropriated byCongress for the building of a telegraph line from Baltimore toWashington. But above all, the country thrilled with the prospect ofacquiring Texas and settling the territory of Oregon. Douglas was atonce one of the creators and one of the most conspicuous products ofthis great drama. 

He had been reelected to Congress by a plurality of over 1700 votes overhis Whig opponent. The Whigs opposed the annexation of Texas. Clay wasagainst it. New England preached and sang against it. But Tyler hadtried to negotiate a treaty for it. It had failed. He devoted much ofhis last annual message to Congress to the Texas subject, soliciting"prompt and immediate action on the subject of annexation. " Douglas, during the campaign in Illinois and in Tennessee, had denounced thoseweaklings who feared that the extension of the national domain wouldcorrupt the institutions of the country. As to war with Mexico becauseof Texas, let it come. The Federal system was adapted to expansion, tothe absorption of the whole continent. Great Britain should be driven, with all the vestiges of royal authority, from North America. "I wouldmake, " he said, "an ocean-bound republic, and have no more disputesabout boundaries or red lines upon the maps. "

These words sent a thrill through the country. What had Clay to offer asa counteractant, as an equal inspiration to the pride of this lustynation? Surely not the tariff. This imaginative impulse had carried Mr. Polk to the Presidency; but before Mr. Tyler laid down his office he wasable to send a message to Texas with an offer of annexation. It wasaccepted, and in December of that year, 1845, Texas became a state ofthe Union. 

Mother Clayton had come on to Chicago at last, and we were fully settledwith Mammy and Jenny to run the house. My life was ideal, divided as itwas between money making and participation in Chicago's development. Wehad Mr. And Mrs. Williams and Abigail and Aldington as a nucleus for newfriendships. I could see more clearly than ever that Dorothy and Abigailwere as dissimilar as two women could be. Nevertheless, they becamefriends. Mrs. Williams and Mother Clayton found much in common. Mybusiness relations with Mr. Williams were altogether agreeable. 

I resumed my readings with Abigail and Aldington, although Dorothy wasnot greatly interested. Poe's _Raven_ went the rounds this winter andcreated an excitement. We read Hawthorne's novels. Emerson's _Essays_, the second series, appeared. Then the first discordant note came betweenDorothy and Abigail. For Emerson said: "We must get rid of slavery, orget rid of freedom. " Abigail exclaimed over this epigrammatic truth. Dorothy looked at Abigail disapprovingly, apparently seeing in her faceevidence of a different spirit than she had hitherto suspected. Aldington joined Abigail in praise of Emerson. And for the sake of abalance, I sided with Dorothy and Mother Clayton against them. Thoughnone of us had anything to do directly with the matter of slavery, itthus cast its shadow upon our otherwise happy relationship. 

In these readings too I was following with great care the career ofDouglas in Congress, in which Abigail and Aldington were not so warmlyinterested. Douglas' early life, his adventure into the West, had puthim through an experience and into the possession of an understandingwhich were alien to the eastern statesmen. The West was for theenterprise of the young. It was a domain of opportunity for youth, divorced from family influence and the tangles of decaying environment. Hence Texas must be assimilated, and California taken eventually, andthe Oregon country acquired. An ocean-bound republic!

As for slavery, it did not enter into Douglas' calculations. I knew, however, that in spite of what any one said, he was not a protagonist ofslavery. He simply subordinated it to the interests of expansion. He waswilling to leave it to the new states to determine for themselveswhether they should have slavery or not. With the impetuosity of histhirty-two years he slipped into a recognition of the MissouriCompromise, and was willing that slavery should be prohibited north ofthis line. He was generating a plague for himself which would come backupon him later. 

But if Douglas' advocacy of the Texas expansion exposed him to chargesof a slave adherency, nothing could be said against his cry for thetaking of Oregon. The Mormons whom he had befriended without anydishonor to himself had set forth into the untraveled land of Utah. Already a band of young men from Peoria had gone into the Far West. Therefore, when he now spoke for Oregon he had a responsive ear amonghis own people in Illinois. If the eastern people, the dwellers in theold communities, did not kindle to Oregon, it was because they hadneither the flare nor did they see the urge of this emigration andoccupancy. With the rapid extension of railroads, how soon would thewhole vast land be bound together in quick communication!

So it was, Douglas was offering bills in Congress for creating theterritory of Nebraska, for establishing military posts in Oregon, andfor extending settlements across the West under military protection. Headvocated means of communication across the Rocky Mountains. He thoughtof his own unprotected youth. He would have the young men from Peoriaand from every place feel confident in the knowledge that as builders ofthe nation's greatness they had the friendship and the strong arm of thegovernment around them. 

What was Great Britain doing? Reaching for California, hungering forTexas, eyeing Cuba. She hated republican institutions. She would girdthem with her own monarchist principles, bodied forth in fortificationsand military posts. It should not be. Douglas had said: "I would blotout the lines of the map which now mark our national boundaries on thiscontinent and make the area of liberty as broad as the continent itself. I would not suffer petty rival republics to grow up here, engenderingjealousy of each other, and interfering with each other's domesticaffairs, and continually endangering their peace. I do not wish to gobeyond the great ocean--beyond those boundaries which the God of naturehas marked out. I would limit myself only by that boundary which is soclearly defined by nature. "

Meanwhile President Polk was saying: "Our title to Oregon is clear andunquestionable. " He was urging the termination of the treaty for jointoccupation with Great Britain of Oregon. War! Yes, but Douglas did notfear it. At the beginning of the thirties of his years, he was leadingCongress in the formation of an ocean-bound republic. 

These were his words: "The great point at issue between us and GreatBritain is for the freedom of the Pacific Ocean, for the trade of Chinaand Japan, of the East Indies, and for our maritime ascendency on allthese waters. "

I watched these proceedings to the end, and until the Oregon territorywas settled by the fixing of the 49th parallel as the boundary betweenGreat Britain and the United States. Douglas had striven with all hismight to extend the boundary to the 54th parallel. He had failed inthis, and was bitterly disappointed. He had been accused of boyish dashand temerity in affronting English feeling with a larger demand. It hadcome to the point where I could not discuss, particularly in Dorothy'spresence, these questions with Abigail. She saw nothing in these laborsof Douglas but vulgar materialism. That, of course, was the farthestthing from the minds of Mother Clayton and Dorothy. 

But before the Oregon compact was signed, two grave matters disturbedour peace and brought their influence into our happy household. Congresshad failed to pass the bills to protect the settlers in the Oregonterritory. And we were at war with Mexico. 

I felt irresistibly drawn to the war. 

CHAPTER XXXV

Dorothy was in terror. We had been married so short a time. Ourhappiness had been undisturbed. We had found such perfect enjoyment inour home. We had taken such delight in the life of Chicago. 

But Mother Clayton encouraged me with bright and admiring eyes. I feltthat I owed this service to Douglas. He had mapped out the boundaries ofTexas. Should I not carry the sword to defend and establish them? Thedream which was Douglas' had also taken possession of me. 

Abigail saw nothing in the Mexican War beyond an ambition of theSouthern States to extend slavery. It was a fight for cotton. TheEastern States did not like the war, the Whigs opposed the war. Illinoishad many enemies of the war. 

But these were the facts: Mexico had announced that the annexation ofTexas would be considered an act of war. She had broken off diplomaticrelations with us when we offered to annex it. She had prepared toresist the loss of Texas with force of arms. Our people were in Texas. They could not be abandoned. "How did they get there?" asked Abigail. "By pushing and adventuring where they did not belong. "

President Polk had sent troops under General Taylor to defend Texas; hehad sent commissioners to Mexico to make a peaceable solution of thedispute. Besides, he was anxious to get the Mexican province ofCalifornia, as Douglas was, including the wonderful bay and harbor ofSan Francisco. Would Mexico sell them without a fight? Mexico haddeclined. General Taylor was therefore ordered to advance to the RioGrande. There was war! Its shadow entered my household. Dorothy was intears. Mammy and Jenny were shaking with fear. For I had resolved toenter the fight. 

And Chicago was afire with the war spirit. The streets echoed to themusic of martial bands; orators addressed multitudes in various parts ofthe city. Trade was stimulated. The hotels were thronged with people. The restaurants were noisy with agitated talkers. Douglas' name was onevery one's tongue. 

Volunteers had been called for. But Illinois could send but threeregiments; she offered six to the cause. Many companies were refused. Iorganized a company, financing it myself. But it could not be taken, andI joined the army under the colonelcy of John J. Hardin. He it was whomDouglas had supplanted as state's attorney. Now he was to lead troops, to the vindication of Douglas' dream. 

Dorothy was inconsolable for my departure. She could not have sustainedthe ordeal except for Mother Clayton. There were fear, anxiety, andmystical foreboding in Dorothy's heart for a different reason. She wassoon to bear a child. She was loath to have me away from her in thisordeal. Yet I had to go. A whole continent moved me; great forces urgedme forward. I was now an American. Martial blood stirred in me. Allconcerns of home, of Dorothy, sank below the great vision of war. Theaggregate feelings and thoughts of a people make a superintelligencewhich may be mistaken for God. Of this superintelligence Douglas' voicewas the great expression. I broke from Dorothy's arms, after vainlyattempting to console her. 

The six Illinois regiments assembled at Alton, where I had been so manytimes before. I was to see this town again in the most dramatic momentof my life, how unimagined in this terrible time of war. We hurried onto join General Taylor, who had already, as we learned later, won thebattles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma. Characters later to figuremomentously in the history of the country were here to settle the titleof Texas with the sword. Robert E. Lee, a lieutenant, was brevetted forbravery in the battles of Cerro Gordo, Contreras, Churubusco, andChapultepec. Captain Grant had come with a regiment and joined theforces of General Taylor. He took part in the battles of Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, and Monterey; and then being transferred to GeneralScott's army, he served at Vera Cruz, Cerro Gordo, Churubusco, Molinodel Rey, and at the capture of Chapultepec. Here too was ColonelJefferson Davis, who led his valorous Mississippians, who put to flightAmpudia at the battle of Buena Vista. Lee, Grant, Davis, Taylor, thenext President, all in arms for the ocean-bound republic of the youngCongressman from Illinois!

Our Illinois troops with those from other states, numbering in all 5000men, proceeded to Monterey, thence to Buena Vista where we wereconfronted by 20, 000 Mexicans under the command of General Santa Anna, who had no doubt of a speedy victory over us. On Washington's birthday, Santa Anna sent a message to General Taylor to surrender, saying that hedid not wish to inflict useless slaughter. General Taylor declined, andwe fought. 

I shall never forget my feelings, but how shall I describe them? Mynerves were tense; they rang taut with unexpended energy. I felt deathnear me. I thought of Dorothy constantly, but I was living with fate. 

The line of battle was formed where the valley was narrow. The loftymountains were on either side of us. Torrents had gullied the plain. TheKentucky volunteers were posted at the left; the Indiana volunteers werestationed near. Our regiment, together with a Texas company, formed theremainder of the line which ran from the plain to the plateau. Extendingfrom these towards the mountains were placed other troops from Illinois, from Indiana, and from Arkansas. Up the valley came Santa Anna, with his20, 000 Mexicans. 

He had sent General Ampudia to climb the mountain and fall upon ourtroops at the left. The battle began in the afternoon and lasted tillnight. 

At dawn Santa Anna advanced his troops in three columns in front of us. And the battle began to rage. The Indiana troops retreated in disorder. But the Illinoisians stood their ground, pouring forth sheets of flameupon the Mexicans. We had to retreat. We were pressed back to thenarrows. Then General Taylor, hastening up, took command. Batteries wereopened. Grapeshot and canister were poured into the advancing Mexicans. The cannon belched deadly fire. Colonel Davis had routed Ampudia at theleft. The Mexicans began to waver in front. We from Illinois andKentucky started in pursuit. We drove them into a deep ravine. 

Here suddenly they were reënforced by 12, 000 men. They shot us down likesheep. It was a slaughterhouse. But we fought like madmen. Our riflemen, the squirrel hunters of Kentucky and Illinois, picked off the Mexicansunerringly. Our batteries began to thunder again. Again the Mexicansbroke order. They started to run. We pursued them through the valley, under the shadows of the great mountain. Night came.... The silence ofnight and of our victory. 

We had won the battle! The Mexicans fled southward. Then we started tobury our dead. Our losses were terrible. So many boys from Illinois werehearsed in this bloody soil. Colonel Hardin was killed; but we werecommissioned to bring his body back to Jacksonville. 

This ended the war in northern Mexico. But meanwhile, as President Polkcould not buy California, he seized it. He ordered an American squadronto take San Francisco and other harbors on the California coast. He sentGeneral Kearney with a cooperating force to this end. Kearney occupiedthe city of Santa Fe and organized a temporary government for NewMexico. The President also sent General Scott against the city of Mexicoand Vera Cruz and Cerro Gordo. These were taken; but they were used onlyas levers in the settlement. 

What had been accomplished? We had fixed the Rio Grande as the Texasboundary; we had added California, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, Wyoming, and Utah to the American domain. With Oregon acquired Douglas'ocean-bound republic was realized. Was it to prove his lasting triumph, or his undoing?

I had been gone less than a year. I was eager to reach Chicago, but Ihad to stop off at Jacksonville to help bury the body of Colonel Hardin. We made his grave near the grave of my father and not far fromLamborn's. 

What had happened in my absence? How should I find the home that I hadleft? If Dorothy should be dead, or Mother Clayton, or Mammy or Jenny?

I rang the bell. Jenny came to the door. She gave a cry. Mammy camehurrying through the hall; then Mother Clayton, flinging her arms upwardin dumb delight. Then Dorothy, lovely in her young motherhood, carryingour boy, the tears running down her cheeks. She could not speak. Shecould only rub her cheek against mine, press her lips to mine, hold ourlittle boy's laughing and uncomprehending lips to mine. We cried. Weuttered broken words. 

I entered. The door closed behind me. I was home. All was well. I satdown. All looked at me. Jenny and Mammy loitered in the room. I wantedto speak. But what had I to say? Nothing! Such happiness at being home!So we sat until I broke the silence by asking: "When was the baby born?"Mother Clayton replied: "He is five weeks old to-morrow. " Then we alllaughed. We had broken this heavy silence with such simple words. Andafter that, many words, much laughter; and later a wonderful mealprepared by the delighted hands of Mammy and Jenny. 

CHAPTER XXXVI

But what of Douglas? During the war I had been entirely out of touchwith him. What was he doing? What had he accomplished? What was nowstirring in his restless imagination? They all had news for me about himand of varied import, according to their attitude. 

For one thing he had married while I was in the war. Mother Claytonapproved the marriage. Abigail mocked it. For his wife was a southernwoman, the owner of many slaves in Mississippi. Douglas had announcedthat he would have nothing to do with her property, especially with theslaves. But how was he to escape a derivative gain? So Abigail asked. Iknew that he disliked the institution; but here it was touching himagain in a peculiarly intimate way. Texas soiled him with its influenceand now his marriage identified him with it. He might regard it, if hewould, as a domestic matter like the liquor business, which Maine hadjust now laid low by a prohibition law. As he would not be a liquordealer, so he would not be a slave owner. But he was the next thing toit in the circumstance of his marriage. 

But in my absence he had moved to Chicago, and this gave me greathappiness. I should now see much of him. He was speculating in land andgrowing rich. He was advocating the immediate construction of theIllinois Central railroad. He had been triumphantly reelected toCongress. The Mexican War had helped to do that for him. He was onlythirty-four, but a great and growing figure. 

Chicago had changed in my absence. The second water system, consistingof a reservoir at the corner of Michigan Avenue and Water Street, and apump, operated by a 25-horsepower engine, was soon to be supplanted by acrib sunk in the lake 600 feet from shore, from which the water was tobe drawn by a 200-horsepower engine. The lake traffic had increasedenormously. The Illinois and Michigan canal was soon to be opened. 

Mother Clayton had saved for me the copies of Niles' _Register_ and hadmarked passages in Douglas' speeches in Congress, particularly hiseffective retorts to the aged J. Q. Adams, who pursued Douglas withinveterate hostility. It was all about the slavery question. 

I looked Douglas up as soon as possible. We invited him and his youngwife to dinner. Surely he had found a charming and interesting mate. Wenow had so much of life in common and of mutual memory to draw upon. Hewas eager to hear of the war, the battles I had been in. He was veryproud of me and happy beyond measure that I had come out of the warwithout a scar. 

How strange about Colonel Hardin! "An able man, that, " said Douglas, "but I don't believe he ever forgave me for taking the state'sattorneyship from him. "

Abigail and Aldington were also at our dinner. Mrs. Douglas foundherself quite at home with Mother Clayton and Dorothy. I could see, however, that she did not like Abigail. 

After that Douglas and I had many meetings. He was full of ideas andabsorbed in various activities. He was pugnacious and energetic. Butwhat friends he made! He passed in and out of my view frequently, nowthat we lived in the same city. And before I knew it, scarcely beforethere was any talk of it, he was selected as United States Senator fromIllinois. 

It was in December of 1847. He was within some four months of histhirty-fifth birthday. He had now had an uninterrupted career ofpolitical triumph. His one defeat for Congress, when he ran the firsttime, could scarcely be counted against him. 

But to my English eyes, in spite of all my admiration for the man, I sawmuch imperfection in his intellectual make-up, due in part I think tothe haste with which he had lived. He had an adroitness and a fertilityof mind which were altogether amazing. Yet he was like Chicago: of quickand phenomenal growth. His protective coloration was like Chicago's, which covered its ugliness and its irregularity with bunting and flagson a holiday. He was growing up rapidly, as Chicago was growing up. Chicago was facing greater problems as its population increased; and asDouglas rose into higher power, thicker complications entangled him. Hedragged after him the imperfect education of his youth, the opinions ofhis immaturity. He was now enmeshed in the problems of the newterritories, and always, slavery. Prepared or not, he would fight forhis principles. If defeated he would rise quickly; if triumphant headvanced. 

As leisure was possible to me, and because of Dorothy's somewhat frailhealth, we decided to give up the Chicago house this winter and spendthe season in Washington. We would take Mother Clayton, of course, andMammy and Jenny. I would thus have the chance to watch the contests inCongress in which I was so profoundly interested. I wished to witnessDouglas' part in these great affairs. Some of the old giants were stillthere: Calhoun, Webster. How would Douglas face these great men? Aboveall, the shreds of a decaying past were stretching themselves forward toenter the texture of the new weaving. How would the two pieces beconnected? Would it be a patchwork?

Douglas had come to me offering an appointment in Illinois. When Ideclined this, he suggested a consulship on the continent, or in London. But I could not see my way clear to leave America. I had too manyinterests now, and I wished to see the unfolding of events here. 

CHAPTER XXXVII

We found Washington much as Dickens had described it seven years before. The avenues were broad. They began in great open spaces and faded intocommons equally unbounded. They seemed to lead nowhere. There werenumerous streets without houses. There were public buildings without apublic. There were thoroughfares that had no markings but ornaments. Theresidences had green blinds and red and white curtains at the windowsalmost without an exception. Grass grew in the avenues. The distanceswere great, separating the new public buildings from easy access. Brickyards were in the center of the city, from which all the bricks hadbeen taken, leaving only dust, which was stirred by gusts of windfilling the air at times to suffocation. Pennsylvania Avenue wasgrotesque with its big and little buildings, its small and impoverishedshops set between the more splendid windows of jewelry and fabrics. Itwas in such sharp contrast with Chicago. No noise here. No smell. Instead of lumbering drays, many carriages; instead of bustle, leisure;instead of commercial haste, languid strolling along PennsylvaniaAvenue. And there at its head stood the unfinished Capitol; and at itsother end the executive mansion now occupied by President Polk, andsoon to be the residence of the hero of the Mexican War, Zachary Taylor;and soon of Millard Fillmore. 

Dorothy and I and Mother Clayton visited the places of interest at once. We went to the Patent Office and saw the model of the Morse telegraph. We looked at the Declaration of Independence displayed in a glass caseat the Department of State. We stood before Trumbull's pictures of thecelebrated men of an earlier day. We went to the room of the SpringCourt, saw the judges in their black robes, the thin intellectual ChiefJustice Taney at the center. We went to the slave market, where thecapital of the republic trafficked in human flesh for itself and thesurrounding country. Lottery tickets were openly sold. Negroes throngedthe streets. They were the domestic servants, the laborers, the hackmen. A raggedness, a poverty, a shiftlessness, characterized externalWashington. Washington was not Chicago. 

We found that Douglas had settled himself handsomely with his young andcharming wife. He entertained a great deal, and was entertained in turn. We dined back and forth with each other. And because of Mrs. Douglas'friendship Dorothy found her social pleasures assured and advanced. 

Washington like other cities in America was struggling out of the earth. The whole country was in a similar throe. Everywhere were great dreamspartly realized. One could not help but imagine what the nation wouldbecome, just as one could not look at the unfinished Capitol at the endof Pennsylvania Avenue without completing its lines in imagination. 

We had come to New York City by boat, as I had gone to Chicago by boatin 1833; but in New York we had taken a train to Philadelphia, claimedour baggage at the station, transferred to another station, and takenanother train through Baltimore to Washington. The cities of the Eastwere now in telegraphic communication with each other: Washington withBaltimore and New York; Philadelphia and Newark were joined. Polk'selection had been flashed by the telegraph. And news now came toWashington on every subject: markets, fires, catastrophes, elections. The public press was very active. The country was in a ferment. Thegreat West agitated the more sensitive, the listening East. From beyondthe Atlantic news of thrilling import poured upon us. In truth the wholeworld was trembling at the threshold of a new era. Douglas was keenlyconscious of these world changes. They occupied my own thoughts. 

In France Louis Philippe had been dethroned, a republic had beenestablished with Louis Napoleon as President. The ideas of therevolution had worked a democratic triumph as to the suffrage and theform of the government. This was February, 1848, the same month thatDouglas made his first speech in the Senate. 

This February revolution in France had lighted the fires of libertythroughout Europe. In England there was agitation and violence. Thepeople there were demanding the right to vote. In Italy there was a cryfor reform and free constitutions. Mazzini was proclaiming the fact thatthe people in Spain, Hungary, Germany, Poland, Russia, were oppressed. He called the cause of all peoples a common cause. The French Revolutionhad announced the liberty, equality and fraternity of individual men;the new revolution should proclaim the liberty, equality and fraternityof nations. Cavour and Garibaldi were getting ready to bring about theunification of Italy. The Germans had gained some liberties in 1830. Butwhen Paris broke into shouts for freedom in 1848, the news went acrossthe Rhine and the German liberals arose and demanded a constitutionalgovernment. Metternich was obliged to flee the country. The EmperorFerdinand abdicated in favor of his nephew, and the people'sconstitution was granted. There were rioting and bloodshed in thestreets of Berlin. 

As a result of all this, thousands of Europeans were fleeing to America, the land of the free. Yet there were the slave markets in Washington, New Orleans, all through the South. And Congress was about to considerthe new territory which had come as a result of the Mexican War and theOregon settlement. How would Douglas react to these world movements? Howwould he interpret them? Who could stand against this world-wideavalanche? With the North now greatly the superior of the South inwealth, in railroads, mines, in agricultural productiveness, what couldthe South do for her slaves and her cotton? What would the Titans--iron, coal, gold, copper, wheat, corn--do to the Giant of cotton?

I heard Douglas' first speech in the Senate and interpreted it againstthis background. He had already been made chairman of the committee onterritories, and thus placed in the very midst of the fight touching theannexations. The great Webster was here. He had opposed the annexationof Texas and the Mexican War, and was the spokesman of the Whig party. He had split metaphysical hairs with Calhoun, also here. Calhoundeclared that the Constitution was over the territory and by that factcarried slavery into it; no imperialism in America. To this Websterrejoined that the territory was the property of the United States andnot a part of it. Hence the Constitution was not over it and slaverycould be kept out of it. This was implied powers in favor of liberty. Calhoun's doctrine was: Constitutional government in the interests ofslavery. To such dialectics had the matter come. Mazzini might contendfor liberty, equality, and fraternity for individuals and nations. Herein America the questions were more subtle. Clay was not here but soon tobe here. Hale of New Hampshire was here, an astringent personality, eager to challenge young Douglas from Illinois. 

The question was the Mexican treaty. Senator Hale injected abolitionisminto Douglas' speech. Calhoun characterized Douglas' retort to Hale asequal in offensiveness to Hale's remark, which elicited the retort. Thebattle was on. We now had occasion to be proud of our friend. He stoodforth with such self-possession, such dignity. With great emphasis heannounced that he had no sympathy with abolitionism; but neither did helook with favor upon the extreme view of the South. "We protest, " saidDouglas, in his great musical voice, facing the southern Senators, "against being made puppets in this slavery excitement, which canoperate only against your interests and the building up of those whowish to put you down. In the North it is not expected that we shouldtake the position that slavery is a positive good, a positive blessing. If we did assume such a position it would be a very pertinent inquiry, why do you not adopt this institution? We have moulded our institutionsin the North as we have thought proper; and now we say to you of theSouth, if slavery be a blessing, it is your blessing; if it be a curse, it is your curse; enjoy it--on you rests all the responsibility. We areprepared to aid you in the maintenance of all your constitutionalrights; and I apprehend that no man, South or North, has shown moreconstantly than I a disposition to do so. But I claim the privilege ofpointing out to you how you give strength and encouragement to theAbolitionists of the North. "

Mother Clayton had been long schooled in the questions which vexed thematter of slavery. She thought Douglas showed great courage in thesewords, but she was not satisfied with them. She felt that the South hadnot been protected in its rights and that Douglas owed it to the Southto stand with the southern Senators. His position was not definiteenough to suit her. He should say that slavery went into the territoriesby law, or was kept out by law. Douglas' thesis might be judicial but itlaid him open to doubts. 

This was our talk as we walked away from the Capitol. Dorothy wasfatigued by the experience. She was interested, but the debate exhaustedher. What she wished more than anything was peace for the whole country. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII

I had had a delirium in the serious illness through which Zoe had nursedme, in which a blue fly crawling up the windowpane, sliding down thewindowpane, buzzing in the corner of the frame where it could neitherclimb nor get through nor think of returning into the room--in whichthis fly took on the semblance of Napoleon. My imagination was then fullof Napoleon; and my father had suffered because of him at the battle ofWaterloo. And as I sat in the gallery of the Senate, Webster, Calhoun, Hale, Cass, and Douglas reminded me of this hallucination. They seemedto me like flies at the windowpane of Texas and California and Oregon, beating their wings against the dark glass of the future. They were likeinsects, caught in the rich gluten of circumstances and buzzing as theysought to make their way. 

This winter sad news came to me of the death of my dear grandmother, whom I had planned all along to see again. Now it could not be. My lifehad been hurried forward with such varied events, and with all therapidity of America's development. I had worked with great industry inputting the farm on a paying basis. I had run at high speed in Chicago. I was still living fast in plans and activities. Douglas was full ofthe subject of railroad extension, and I was drawn into that. He wastrying to formulate a plan for the Illinois Central railroad; and myinterests in Chicago drew me to that plan. He was also talking offounding a university in Chicago. These were the subjects of our manytalks. Our visits took place at his house or at mine, as he rarely wentwith me to the places of amusement which I frequented. 

A theatrical company had come to Washington from New York which wasplaying in repertoire, _Jack Sheppard_, _Don César de Bazan_, _His LastLegs_, _London Assurance_, _Old Heads and Young Hearts_, and some otherdramas. Dorothy and Mrs. Douglas were devotees of the theater. I enjoyed_Richelieu_ and _Macbeth_, and I had seen Forrest as Sir CharlesOverreach and Claude Melnotte; but for many of the plays I did not care. Douglas was indifferent to the theater. He was himself too much of aplayer on the stage of American affairs to be illusioned by any mimicrepresentation. 

On a night when Dorothy and I were dining with Douglas and Mrs. Douglas, Dorothy and Mrs. Douglas conceived the idea of going off to see the playof _Charlotte Temple_; for we had overflowed the lesser talk at thedinner table by our discussion of railroads. Accordingly they left us, and Douglas and I settled down to an intimate evening, of which we werebeginning to have many. We set a quart bottle of whisky between us, drinking from it from time to time as the evening progressed. Both ofus had a fair capacity. And without either of us becoming more than wellstimulated, we nearly consumed the bottle by the time Mrs. Douglas andDorothy returned. 

This evening I studied Douglas with more than usual care. I had beenstruck at dinner by his great devotion to Mrs. Douglas. He treated herwith a high-bred chivalry, a constant kindness. I was really trying toget at the emotional side of his nature as to things that did notrelate, for example, to an ocean-bound republic. After all, his attitudetoward men was one of guarded friendship. He attached men to himselfwith ardor and loyalty. In turn he gave loyalty and a certain ardor too. But he was really analytical of men. He was suspicious of disinterestedfriendship. He saw selfish considerations as the social bond. Hence hehad less and less patience with New England. The radicals who talked Godand benevolence and fraternalism were anathema to him. They had nothingto lose; therefore, they could chant a goodness as to the loss ofothers; they could praise self-sacrifice, having nothing themselves tosacrifice. As for human love, what was it but the feeling evoked byconsideration? Pay a man well and he will love you. Give him goodworking conditions and he will tolerate the service. Put him to the testby short pay or bad conditions and he will hate you. All of this pointedto the love of men and women. I tried to draw him out on this. I do notknow what the lack of his mind was, whether of subtlety or imagination. At any rate it was a realm of thought to which his face was a blank, andto which his mind seemed to have no reaction. 

He turned now to the Oregon settlement. He was still furious over it, still indignant at Polk. He had stood for 54:40 as the northernboundary; he was chagrined at the 49th parallel. Why had Polk fulminatedfirst for 54:40 and faded off to the 49th parallel? England! He hated mymother country with a deep and rancorous hatred. Coming from Vermont hehad taken into his bones a poison for the British atrocities of theRevolution; he loathed England for her conduct of the War of 1812, theruthless burning of Washington, with all its priceless records of theearly days of the republic. He was eager, restive to fight England. England's invulnerableness tantalized him; her habitual luck infuriatedhim. Her ownership of the right thing at the right place and timemystified him. Concretely now there were the Mosquito Islands off thecoast of Honduras which England claimed to own, but Douglas thoughtwithout any right. He was advocating the cutting of a canal acrossNicaragua. What would England do? She would try to use the MosquitoIslands as a basis of agreement for joint control with the United Statesof the canal--in spite of the Monroe Doctrine. Why would not allstatesmen rise with him in the assertion of a title to the whole ofNorth America? Was America in the business of pirating around the shoresof Europe to pick up islands, or promontories like Gibraltar? Not atall. Then why should England be tolerated in this Western Hemisphere?What divided the American imagination? The old loyalists and royalistswho had become the Federalists under Hamilton, who were now the Whigswith the same banking scheme, the same old tariff, the same old hatredof democratic government, the same hypocrisy, the same disingenuous anddevious policies. There was but one American party, one pure-bloodedparty, good for the East and the West, friendly to every just thing thatthe East desired, understanding the West; that was the Democratic party!It stood for America. It envisioned the needs of the greatness ofAmerica. It had fought the war against England and Mexico. It hadcreated the American domain. And now these old defeated and crookedmonarchists who had stood in the way of America's progress were seizingupon a moral issue, upon slavery, with which to befool a democraticelectorate naturally responsive to the arguments of liberty. They hadopposed the Mexican War; they had brought up the slavery question atevery important juncture to confound counsels and perplex otherwise easysolutions. But what one of them would give back Texas, New Mexico, California, to Mexico? Would Webster? Would Hale? No, not one of themwould do this. 

The campaign of 1848! What would the Whigs do? They would use thisDemocratic Mexican War to get into power. They would appeal to the warspirit which they had dishonored; they would use a national gratitudefor service in the despised war to get the offices and control theadministration. Would Clay win the Whig nomination? Not at all. It wouldbe Zachary Taylor, the hero of the Mexican War, the slave owner ofLouisiana. This party was over virtuous on the slavery matter, lendingan unofficial ear to Garrison and other agitators, but it had beencareful not to take a party stand on the question. It would continue toplay with the subject. It would put forward a southern slave owner tocatch the southern Whigs, and at the same time use his war record tomove the pure-blooded and American vote. 

Would the Abolitionists put up a ticket? Perhaps. What would come ofarraying section against section? Suppose slavery could be put to avote. In 1840 the Abolitionists had polled 7, 000 votes in the country. In 1844, 60, 000. This proved that it was not difficult to throw afirebrand into America's affairs. Suppose this vote grew and anAbolitionist President should ultimately be elected? What of Americanprogress in such a contingency? What of a wrecked republic before thegreedy eyes of England, the envious hands of kings? Why should suchfolly be? Let the slavery question alone. Keep it out of the way ofAmerican development. Let the territories decide for themselves whetherthey would have slavery or not; let the states coming in do so, withslavery or without, as they chose. 

We took a drink every now and then, and Douglas turned to the subjectof railroad extension. He told me of a certain Asa Whitney. Whitney hadlived in China. He had returned to America in 1844, urging that arailroad across the continent would bring the trade of China to theUnited States and enable American merchants to control it. If a canalwere built, supplemented by a railroad across that part of the Isthmusof Panama not traversed by the canal, about 115 miles, the distancebetween New York and San Francisco would be shortened by 1100 miles, andfrom New Orleans to San Francisco by 1700 miles. This related to theproposed Tehuantepec canal. Ah! but England had already got an interestin this route. So Whitney proposed a railroad from Lake Michigan throughthe Rocky Mountains to the Pacific. He had laid this plan before theSenate in 1845, showing that if a railroad were built the journey fromNew York to the mouth of the Columbia River could be made in eight days, and to China in thirty days. A naval station on the Columbia River, buteight days from Washington city, and the Pacific could be commanded;next, the Indian Ocean and the South Seas. Oregon would become a greatstate at once. The commerce of China, Japan, Manila, Australia, Java, Calcutta, and Bombay would be ours. What would England say to this? Oh, yes, the Abolitionists might object! Freedom for the negro at anysacrifice. "Let us have a drink, " said Douglas, with a laugh. 

"I am for this plan, " said Douglas. "True, he wants $65, 000, 000--thatis, he wants to raise that much and has asked Congress for a grant ofland sixty miles wide across the continent with which to get the money. He is on a lecture tour now, I hear, and has got the Boards of Trade ofNew York, Cincinnati, Louisville, and some others to favor his plan. Asusual, like all other things, the rivalry between the North and theSouth will affect the route. The Mexican annexations make it necessaryto run the road farther south. There is to be a convention in St. Louissoon about the matter, and I intend to go to it. "

"What do you think about gold being discovered in California? Now Iwonder if Webster does not want to give California back to Mexico. Agood joke on us if the Whigs win the next election. How can they playwith things in this way?"

We heard some one at the door. Douglas stood up, poured himself anotherdrink, and said: "To the University of Chicago. "

Then Dorothy and Mrs. Douglas entered. Mrs. Douglas pointed to thenearly empty bottle and said: "You have had a good time I see. " She saton the arm of Douglas' chair and began to smooth out his unruly locks. "You missed a good play, " she said. "We had a very good drama here, "said Douglas. Dorothy was pulling at me to go home. 

When we arrived we found Mother Clayton laughing and scolding overDickens' _American Notes_. 

CHAPTER XXXIX

Our stay in Washington had come to an end and the campaign was on. 

I was building a business block in Chicago, which had come to a tangleowing to labor conditions. Throughout the country there was a movementfor the ten-hour day, and there were many strikes, particularly in theEast. 

We decided to return to Chicago by way of New York. Dorothy was in greatanxiety about Mammy and Jenny lest they be kidnapped along the way. Desperate characters were about who picked up negroes in the North andsold them in the South. It was as common a matter as robbing a bank orpicking a pocket. We kept a close watch on Mammy and Jenny. In New Yorkwe rode together in a carriage. But this was also made necessary by thefact that negroes were not permitted to use the street cars. 

The city now had half a million people; but I found the old places, likeNiblo's Garden, and again walked to Washington Square whither I hadtaken my lonely way so many years before. Leaving our boy, Reverdy, withMammy and Jenny at the Astor House, Dorothy and I spent much time insightseeing. 

Broadway was our particular delight. Though it was poorly paved, anddimly lighted at night, it was a scene of great fascination. It was thegreat promenade. Omnibuses, cabs, hacks, trucks rolled through it allday long. There were footmen in livery; luxury was displayed in theequipages. There were crowds of foreigners; and ragged boys and girlswho sold matches or newspapers. New York had the penny newspaper. Welooked out upon the street in the early morning, when the workersstreamed to their tasks. We saw it at breakfast time, when the bankershurried toward Wall Street, and the lawyers were going to court, or totheir offices in Nassau and Pine streets. In the afternoon ladies, richly dressed, dandies, and loafers crowded the sidewalks. There wasfashion in abundance; wonderful silks, ermine cloaks, furs, feathers, gorgeous costumes of all sorts. Gold had been discovered in California!The Mexican cessions and Oregon could be felt on Broadway. In the shopsarticles from every part of the world were for sale. There were ladies'oyster shops, ladies' reading rooms, and ladies' bowling alleys. 

We drove to the new residence districts, like La Fayette Place, WaverlyPlace, Washington Square, and lower Fifth Avenue. We went down to theBattery from which I had looked with lonely eyes on the ships and thebay fifteen years before. The sailing vessels were giving way to thesteamship. The Cunarder _Canada_ was in port, 250 feet long, of 2000horsepower, and with a speed of eleven knots an hour. Everywhere weencountered the New York policemen who had taken the place of thenight-watch of 1833. They were all in uniform too. They had made a fightagainst the uniforms, upon the principle that all men are free andequal, and that they would not be liveried lackeys. But they had come toit. We also attended the theater frequently, like the Chatham and theOlympic. But most wonderful of all was Barnum's Museum, in which thatgreat showman had collected dwarfs and giants, fat women and humanskeletons. 

I felt impelled to hurry to Chicago, but Dorothy wanted to shop and sowe stayed on. One day I had an agreeable surprise in meeting withYarnell as we were entering the Astor House. I had not seen him since Iparted with him in 1833, on my way west. He was now about forty-fiveyears of age, but looked as youthful as when I first saw him, and wasmore of a dandy. He touched my arm as I passed him. I recognized him atonce and presented him to Dorothy. As Dorothy was anxious to return toour son, she left me with Yarnell who wished to join me at luncheon. 

He took me to the Hone Club, which was the resort of good livers and menabout town. After ordering the meal we set to the comparison of notes. He was eager to hear about the West and of Chicago. He could scarcelybelieve that Detroit and Milwaukee had a population of about 20, 000each, and that Chicago had distanced them with 30, 000. I told him of ourcanal, which was done, and of our great shipping. Illinois had more than300 miles of railroad, and we were building more at a rapid rate. Thisled, of course, to Douglas. Yarnell wanted to hear more of him. I toldYarnell of the beginning of my friendship with Douglas; how he hadhelped me from the stage to Mrs. Spurgeon's house in Jacksonville; ofour friendship since that time, and of our winter in Washington. Then wefell to talking of Webster and Seward. Seward was a power in New York, now about forty-seven years of age; but Yarnell did not like him. Webster had wavered, particularly before the logic of Calhoun. But, after all, was not Webster cribbed by his New England environment?Seward had since been an anti-Masonic, had attended its nationalconvention in 1830. Then he had joined the Whigs, in order to opposeJackson. Nearly all lunacies had gone into the composition of the Whigs. What about this observance of the law, the higher law included? Why didnot Seward honor the requisition of the Governor of Virginia for thereturn of a fugitive slave? Then we took up Greeley. His daily _Tribune_was now having an enormous circulation. Greeley and Seward were notfriends, but there was much of spiritual kinship between them. We grewhumorous over recounting the new movements: Spiritualism, women'srights, and temperance. "Do you know what happened right here in NewYork?" said Yarnell. "The Millerites got ready for the Second Advent ofChrist, and there was a shop in the Bowery which displayed a largeplacard with the words 'muslin for ascension robes. '"

"Don't you see how clearly Douglas' compact mind stands out against allthis folly?" "Yes, " said Yarnell, "but how is Douglas going to stand outagainst it? These various reformers never get tired, and they are sonumerous that they will overwhelm any man. Besides that, you find ableminds like Seward and Greeley taking up with them. Is it the same wayout in Chicago?" "Not so much so, " I said. "We have many foreigners outour way, and they give a different quality to the civilization. Come outand see. "

Yarnell walked with me back to the Astor House, and we parted. 

I found Dorothy in tears, almost hysterical. Jenny, in her absence, hadstepped from the room for a moment. She had not returned. She could notbe found. I went on the streets, I searched everywhere. I drove to theopen squares, to the Battery. I enlisted the aid of policemen, but theywere none too friendly. I went to the _Tribune_ and inserted anadvertisement. The hotel employees took a hand. But no Jenny. She wasdeeply attached to our boy. She could not have willingly wandered away. She must have been kidnapped. 

Dorothy cried herself to sleep. I sat through half the night at thewindow, looking out upon Broadway, listening, at last, to the stir andsounds of dawn. Jenny had been in the Clayton family almost from herbirth; an associate of Mammy's for many years. The affection thatexisted between Dorothy and Jenny was intimate and tender. Dorothydepended upon her for everything. I went to Dorothy and took her in myarms, trying to console her. She was as deeply affected as if she hadlost a sister. All that day we searched for Jenny. The days went by, andwe did nothing but try to find her. Our loss became the talk of thehotel. The newspapers took up the story. Where was Jenny; in whosehands; what fate had she met? Our boy cried for her, and Mrs. Claytonwas inconsolable. But at last we had to move on to Chicago. Was Jennykidnapped? We never knew. We only knew that we never saw her again. Thiswas the sordidness of slavery, its temptation to the meanest passions, the lowest lusts. The loss of Jenny made me hate it. 

CHAPTER XL

I had many business vexations on returning to Chicago. But also thecampaign of 1848 was on, and I was deeply interested in it. I had passedthrough the panic of 1837, but I was not then conscious that a labormovement was on. That panic had stayed it, for a mason or a carpenterwas glad of work in those hard days. Then prosperity had revived and nowit was in full tide due to a world condition; but in America also due toexpansion and railroad building. Mr. Van Buren, in 1840, then beingPresident, and seeking, as his enemies said, to influence the laborvote, had issued an executive order to the effect that laborers andmechanics need work but ten hours a day. Soon after this the bricklayersof Pittsburgh formed a union, the journeyman tailors of Washingtonopened a shop of their own; the workingmen of Philadelphia got intopolitics with an Equal Rights party. The laborers everywhere wereadvocating organization and cooperation and strikes as a means to goodwages. In New York the laborers' union association had demanded a dollara day, made out a political program, which involved opposition to anycandidate who did not support the interests of workingmen. Sometimes themilitia had to be called out, as in 1846 when some Irish workers on astrike were supplanted by Germans. Horace Greeley had naturally taken ahand in this movement. It attracted the humanitarian mind. Therevolutionary processes in Europe of this year, the success of thesocialists in France, had a marked influence upon the conditions inAmerica. Meetings were held to congratulate the Chartists in England, the followers of Louis Blanc in France. Strikes were on in Boston andPhiladelphia. I was caught in this world drift. I had a strike on mybuilding in Chicago. 

I had left my affairs in the hands of an agent manager, who did notassume authority to meet the terms of the strikers. Upon my return I wasobliged to settle it myself. I did this by promptly acceding to thedemands made upon me. What was a quarter of a dollar more a day to me? Iwanted my building to be finished. 

One could not escape observing all this rebellion abroad and in America, this awakening of the worker, this fight for human rights upon slaveryin the South, even if he did not have it brought to his mind in theconcrete way that I did. Slavery might be wrong, that was one thing; itmight cut into the rights, first or last, of the free worker; but if thenegro was owned in body and in energy, and his labor taken for nothing, except the food, shelter, and clothing required to keep him efficient, was that anything but just a matter of degree from the case of the whiteman who was paid so much a day, enough to give him food, shelter, andclothing, and thus keep him a fit machine? Thus there was a moralsympathy between the white workers and the black workers; all weremaking money for an upper man. If it was wrong to appropriate all theblack man's labor, it was wrong to appropriate too much of the whiteman's labor. The Declaration of Independence was a hard nut to crack. While only a few hare-brained agitators wanted negro equality, evenDouglas did not like slavery. 

The new lands of the West brought fresh troubles to Douglas anddesperate struggles to the South. The emigration of revolutionaries fromEurope added to the enemies of the slave system. It was hard for them tounderstand that the Declaration of Independence did not include thenegro. 

This was the state of affairs in the campaign of 1848. The Democrats hadnominated Mr. Cass, of Michigan, for President, and presented him to thepeople on a platform which placed the responsibility for the Mexican Warupon the aggressions of Mexico; it congratulated the American soldiersof that war for having crowned themselves with imperishable glory; ittendered to the Republic of France fraternal salutations upon thesuccess of republican principles, upon the recognition by the French ofthe inherent right of the people in their sovereign capacity to make andamend their forms of government. It spoke for American Democracy, asense of the sacred duty, by reason of these popular triumphs abroad, toadvance constitutional liberty, to resist monopolies. It advocated aconstant adherence to the principles and compromises of theConstitution. It praised the administration of Mr. Polk for repealingthe tariff of 1842, and making a start toward free trade. 

And not a word about slavery. The convention voted down a resolutionwhich favored "non-interference with the rights of property of anyportion of the people of this confederation, be it in the states or theterritories, by any other than the parties interested in them. "

What of the Whigs? They made no declaration of principles whatever. Complete silence. They nominated General Taylor, as Douglas hadpredicted, upon his record in the Mexican War, the war successfullyprosecuted by President Polk, and through which California, with hergold, had come to the United States. Taylor, the slave owner ofLouisiana! But this was not the end of Whig cunning. Millard Fillmorewas nominated for Vice President. He was from New York, had been inCongress, had opposed the annexation of Texas, was a tariff man, hadfought side by side with J. Q. Adams for the abolition of slavery. Butalso he had been the Congressman who had carried the appropriation of$30, 000 for Morse's telegraph. A mixed man! His good was Taylor's evil. Taylor's evil was his good. 

Well, the native Americans had a ticket in the field; the Barn-burnershad a ticket in the field; and the Abolitionists. Mr. Van Buren wasrunning for President as a Barn-burner on a platform which declaredthat there should be no more slave states, and no more slave territory. Where was I to stand amid all this confusion and contradiction?Naturally with Douglas. But I wanted to see what he had to say. 

It was not long before he came to Chicago and our interestingassociation was renewed. He had had something of a quarrel with Mr. Polk, but it had been patched up. Before now he had proposed that theline of the Missouri Compromise be extended to the Pacific Ocean. Washe, too, becoming uncertain of mind? Sometimes I thought he wasoverworked, that his energies were concerned with too many subjects. Hewas making speeches; he was talking railroads; he had his own politicalfortunes to watch. The Whigs were gaining ground. He scoffed at them. Hederided their hypocrisy. He laughed at their piebald character. Yet hesaw a cunning plot in this presentation to the electorate of men whoappealed so diversely: Taylor of the South, and of slavery; Fillmore ofthe North, and of free soil, backed by the powerful mercantilism of theNorth, like the bank and the tariff. Both were using Jefferson to winthe mob, and Hamilton to satisfy the strong. 

It was in the fall just before the election that Reverdy and Sarah cameto visit us, bringing Amos, now about fourteen, and Reverdy Junior, about twelve, and Nancy, who was ten. 

The Douglases came to dine with us, and after the dinner Reverdy, Douglas, and I retired to the library. Again we had the bottle betweenus, but Reverdy was an abstainer. He was satisfied with Douglas'personal attitude toward slavery; Douglas' evident wish that theinstitution was not among us; his refusal to have anything to do withMrs. Douglas' slaves. Reverdy was a man of peace and believed thatDouglas' non-interference policy would ensure peace. He approved ofleaving the matter of slavery to the people of the territories. Hefeared a war, and he opposed the agitation that might bring it. At thesame time, he preferred a free soil and a free people. Reverdy wastypical of many men in America. And indeed, my heart went with Reverdyin these things, even while my thinking went with Douglas. 

Douglas was now the master of his party in Illinois, and it seemed to methat no one could dispute his leadership in the nation. He had perfectedthe party organization in the state from the small beginnings of which Ihave told. He was proud of his work and the strength and discipline ofhis party. He looked forward to victory this fall over thehermaphroditic ticket of Taylor and Fillmore. He was never morebrilliant than he was this evening. He was compelling to look at, notwhen standing, for then his short legs caricatured and belittled hisgreat body. But when he was seated his wonderful face and majestic headtruly represented his nature. 

Outside the house, in the streets, we could hear the cries, "free soil, free speech, free labor, and free men!" Douglas looked annoyed, ironiclights passed across his face. He said in a satiric way: "Just listento that. " These cries could not be met by direct denial, by anepigrammatic retort. One could not so aptly say "slave banks, slavetariffs, slave labor conditions. " These required arguments to expound. If labor conditions presaged slavery for white men were they freed bynegro slavery? Was not this roar outside of the house a part of thetumult in Germany and France? Was not this America hailing Europe? Hadnot this crowd caught up the Democratic platform which congratulated therepublicans of France? What would the German vote do, the Irish vote, all the foreign vote? Had not the Whigs, marching through these streetsof Chicago, captured all the effective thunder of the Democratic party?

As Douglas sat before us I saw him as a giant around whom great forceswere gathering. The light played a curious trick with his forehead, throwing part of it into fantastic shadows. There was a moment's silencein which the deep brilliancy of his eyes flashed upon me. Then his greatvoice spoke again: "It is easy to have a war--among ourselves. " Reverdylooked at Douglas in a sort of terror. Just then Amos came to the doorto call us to see a political parade which was passing the house. 

We three arose, joining Mother Clayton, Dorothy, and Mrs. Douglas whowere already watching it. It was a demonstration of Free Soilers. Douglas had voted against the prohibition of slavery in Texas. This wasthe answer. These banners, bearing the words "Free Soil, Free Speech, Free Labor, and Free Men, " were the challenge. The men who bore them didnot know how to apply their principles to anything but the negro. Douglas knew this. At the same time he knew that he had helped to createthis demonstration, that he had been influential in initiating this newmomentum. 

I looked at Douglas to see what effect the shouts, the pushing, running, limp-stepped throng would have upon him. A smile flitted across hisface. His eyes were intense and concentrated. He made no comment. Thelast men of the parade passed with shouts. A drunken marcher fell. Thelights faded. We turned into the room. Douglas was laughing. 

CHAPTER XLI

What was the result? General Taylor had 1, 360, 099 votes and 163electoral votes; Cass had 1, 220, 544 votes and 127 electoral votes. TheAbolitionists polled 300, 000 votes in the country. The Free Soilers hadpolled 291, 263 votes in the country. Illinois was lost to GeneralTaylor. The Free Soilers had swept the northeastern counties. There hadbeen great Democratic desertions. Voltaire and Rousseau were still atwork. These fermentations of Europe had bubbled and exploded aroundChicago. The concrete thing known as negro slavery heard the rumble ofthe ground. The tariff, the bank, imperial power in Congress unwittinglyrenewed their strength--unwittingly on the part of the Free Soilers. 

A slave owner had become President; a man of the fresh blood of thenorthwest of Michigan had been defeated. A New Yorker, wedded to thetariff, had been put in place to be President by the death of GeneralTaylor. And Douglas found the forces that were to embattle him drawingup in line. 

The state was saved to the local offices. The legislature wasDemocratic, but it proceeded soon to instruct Douglas as Senator toprocure the enactment of laws for the territories for the exclusion ofslavery from them. The members from Egypt, however, sustained Douglas inhis position against the Wilmot Proviso, which sought to keep slaveryfrom Texas. The state was thus disrupted. The opposition to theextension of slavery dated from 1787, from the work of Jefferson in1800. However, let the people of the territories decide the matter. Local self-government was a popular cry. Between saying that Congresscould keep slavery out of the territories, thereby treating theterritories as property, not as subordinate sovereignties, and Congresssending slavery into the territories, because the Constitution was overthem, what juster pragmatism were possible than to let the people of theterritories decide the matter for themselves? If the general governmentwas one of granted powers, where did it get the right to prohibitslavery in the territories? No such power could be indicated. 

Oh, well, there was opportunity for infinite speculation. At the sametime, here were the territories and here was slavery. The powerful Northwas assuming a definite opposition to a weaker South. Iron and coal werestronger than cotton. What was to be done by a man who had the burdensof leadership? How should the whole people be at peace? Since slaverycould not be removed from the states, why not let its tendrils creepinto the territories and there flourish or wither according to the soil?Since it was practical, not radical policy to confine it to the states, and not to abolish it in the states, it was practical and not radicalpolicy to let the territories decide the matter for themselves. If thefirst course aroused the fury of the Abolitionists, the second coursefound no favor with the Free Soilers, and ambitious Whigs, drawing uponabolitionism and free soilism for food, for northern mercantilism andfor a larger slavery of both blacks and whites. 

I had now lived so long in America, seen so much of the country, read soextensively of politics and history, that I was able to follow thequestions involved in this crisis. All the while I had the benefit ofDouglas' association, who talked to me intimately of his own plans andof persons and issues, as they arose. There were calls upon him now toresign the Senatorship; but he had no intention of doing so. Hisfighting blood was aroused. He was hardened to contests and tomisunderstanding and abuse. He had been berated for coarseness andcharged with the half-culture of the West. His sagacity had beencaricatured as cunning; his presence of mind taken for vulgar audacity;he was held up as a half-educated debater, filled with a miserableself-sufficiency. He was attacked as a demagogue. The East held itselfaloof from him in unctuous self-righteousness, because of his stand inthe Mexican War. His fight for Oregon had aligned against him thefriends of England in America. Yet men were in power because of him. AWhig had been elected President upon a war record of a fight for Texas. Who wished to part with Texas, New Mexico, California, or Oregon?

If Douglas had the slavocracy back of him and catered to it, he did nothave plutocracy back of him. If he had been a demagogue he would havedone the bidding of some faction. He did the bidding of no faction. Hismind was budding with railroads now, for the Far West. What he was nowdoing made for a money control of the country in the future; but thatwas not apparent to him. What one of us saw that we could not make anocean-bound republic without a supremacy of wealth, even if it wasbrought about by a plebiscite? This did not make it democratic. 

It was at this time that Mother Clayton's health began to be frail, andDorothy was by no means strong. The winters in Chicago had been verytrying upon both of them. Just now I had so many interests that I couldnot leave the city. But Mother Clayton wished to return to Nashville fora few months, and Dorothy decided to go with her. Our boy was not asrobust as we should have wished. Mammy, by no means to be left out ofour consideration, was aging and longed for the old scenes of Nashville. We closed our house, and I went to the hotel. Then Abigail and Aldingtonwere married. They went abroad to study European conditions. Thus themost of my associations were interrupted. All but those I had withDouglas. 

To go to Nashville was an inconvenient trip, but I made it on severaloccasions. Once on a mission of deep sorrow. Mother Clayton died inJune just as she and Dorothy were preparing to join me in Chicago. I wasthinking of going to California on account of the gold discoveries. So Ibrought Dorothy and Mammy back, although Mammy was very old and couldnot be of much service. 

Thousands were turning their faces to the West. How to get there, how toequip oneself, were the questions. Some went by Cape Horn, some by theIsthmus of Panama, some by the overland route. Thousands joinedcompanies. Others bought ships or chartered them. The wildest of rumorsspread of the richness of the discoveries. Fabulous reports of fabulousprices and wages in California were scattered broadcast. I wanted to go. But why, after all? I could get richer, but why get richer? Besides, there were my interests and Dorothy. I felt the adventurer stir withinme, and talked with Douglas about going. He did not wish me to leaveChicago. What soil could be richer than that south of Madison Street?Besides, he was working on the Illinois Central railroad project, andthat would mean all the money that I would care for, if I would takeadvantage of the opportunities which the railroad would create. Thenthere were the transcontinental lines to be built. A convention was soonto be held in St. Louis, and Douglas wished me to go along with him. 

It was held in October and I went with Douglas to attend it. Theproposition was the construction of a railroad from the Mississippi tothe Pacific. The delegates were mostly from the Mississippi valley, more than 800 in number, and Douglas made me a delegate from Illinois. He was promptly elected to preside over the convention. The first thingproposed was the construction of an emigrant route on the line of theproposed railroad. This was in the interest of the gold seekers. Adelegate who said he had constructed more than 7000 miles of telegraphoffered to string a wire to California if Congress would lend its aid. There should be stations along the way, with troopers to defend theemigrants against Indians. The troopers could carry the mails, thusinsuring the delivery of a letter from St. Louis to San Francisco intwelve days. Another delegate advised the convention that Charleston andNew Orleans would soon be joined by telegraph. As a means ofcommunication, he proposed that for the sending of messages fromWashington to Oregon, it could be done in fifteen days by transmitting atelegram by boat from New Orleans to Laredo, and thence by telegraph tosome point on the Gulf of California; thence to San Francisco and toWashington or Oregon again by boat. 

It was a vital, noisy assemblage of men; and Douglas was a perfecttalent as a presiding officer. His great voice could easily be heardover the entire hall and it seemed altogether fitting, since he had solong been interested in binding the country together with railroads andtelegraphs, that he should be the spokesman of this body of men, whowere inaugurating this magical transformation of America. 

The lobby of the hotel was full of faces of all descriptions. Themillionaire was there, the countryman, the slave dealer, the man withthe goatee. The barrooms and corridors were noisy with excitement, loudtalk of politics, of railroads, of trade, of slavery; denunciation ofthe Whigs, curses for the defeat of Cass. I saw bloodshot eyes, reelingsteps, coarseness, cruelty, wastefulness in drink. Yankees and Dutchwere denounced as trash and as cowards and traitors. They had defeatedthe Democratic party the previous fall. Plans were made on the momentamong various excited groups to go to California. A transcontinentalline must be put through at once. 

Amid this motley throng stood Douglas. He glowed in the admiration hereceived. He was acclaimed, cheered; his hand was taken in a rough andhearty manner by scores, wherever he stood or walked. One moment he wastalking with a group of men from Tennessee; again he was exchangingsalutations with Captain Grant, who was here now without prospects, drinking too much, quite a sorry figure, lounging about waiting forsomething to turn up. Not so with the dignified Major Sherman. He hadbeen to California, on field duty in the Mexican War. Now well groomedand of fine bearing, he stood about the lobby interested in theprojected railroad. Douglas, Grant, Sherman, --all had a definiterelation to the Mexican War, and the new territory. Douglas seemed to betaking renewed life from this interesting experience. I was hiscompanion all the time, loitering near as he talked to variousnotables. I looked over this mass of humanity and thought of America asa whole, and wondered what it would do with its rich possessions, andits problems. Its fate seemed hopelessly entangled, in spite of thematerial prosperity--perhaps because of it. 

CHAPTER XLII

I felt now the truth of Webster's picturesque words that "the imprisonedwinds were let loose. " We might have a transcontinental railroad, andDouglas' Illinois Central might connect Chicago with the Gulf of Mexico. All of this building might go forward successfully. But at the same timethe slavery question would not down. Even railroad building was a boneof contention, for as to a line to California it had been debatedwhether it should start from Chicago or from St. Louis. Hence it wasthat every activity of Douglas had to reckon with the negro. There werenow great things to be done at Washington. And as Dorothy had enjoyedherself so much during the winter that we had spent there, she wasurging me to return. I had my affairs now under better management, andcommunication with Chicago was rather convenient; besides Dorothy wasnot well. The loss of Jenny and the death of her mother had visiblyaffected her health. I decided at last to spend the winter inWashington. 

The trip from Chicago to New York by boat and by train was as wearisomeas before. When we arrived in New York, Dorothy had to take to her bedand rest for two days before proceeding to Washington. 

We took a house again, keeping Mammy for intimate service andsupplementing her with two colored women who fitted in fairly well. Ourboy Reverdy was put in school. 

I began to attend the sessions of the Senate, taking Dorothy when shewished to go. Clay of Kentucky, after an absence of eight years, wasback; here were also Webster and Calhoun, the lions of an earlier day. They were enacting their last parts, trying to re-imprison the winds ofdestiny, which the events of the Mexican War had set to roaring over theland. Young America, in the person of Douglas, faced the hierarchy ofthe earlier republic; and Seward of New York, older than Douglas by sometwelve years, but less versatile and attractive, stood now as aspokesman for a new party. 

If there were pessimists who believed that the Union was in danger atthis time, Douglas was not of them. He could not see the South, ifreasonably accommodated, interfering with his ocean-bound republic. Hehad elasticity, a fresh edge. The coldness of dying arteries was notupon him, as in the case of Webster, Clay, and Calhoun. He had greatprojects to forward, such as grants to secure the construction of theIllinois Central railroad. He knew what railroads meant to the country. He was of the West and he understood it. He was quick to offer a bill inthe Senate for a grant of land for the construction of this railroadfrom Chicago to New Orleans, and it was passed. In the debate over thebill Douglas of Illinois faced Webster of Massachusetts. It was adramatic antithesis. Douglas, young and devoted to the prairies, Webster, old and fixed in his admirations for the East. The old questionof disunion arose. If we would have liberty and union forever, railroadswould insure them. Douglas had said that if the North should ever bearrayed against the South, the pioneers of the northwest and thesouthwest would balance the contest. Webster had spoken slightingly ofthe West which Douglas so greatly loved. And these were Douglas'inspiring and prophetic words in reply:

"There is a power in this nation greater either than the North or theSouth--a growing, increasing, swelling power that will be able to speakthe law to this nation and to execute the law as spoken. That power isthe country known as the Great West--the valley of the Mississippi, oneand indivisible from the Gulf to the Great Lakes, and stretching on theone side and the other to the extreme sources of the Ohio and theMississippi--from the Alleghenies to the Rocky Mountains. There, sir, isthe hope of this nation, the resting place of the power that is not onlyto control but to save the Union. We furnish the water that makes theMississippi; and we intend to follow, navigate, and use it until itloses itself in the briny ocean. So with the St. Lawrence. We intend tokeep open and enjoy both of these great outlets to the ocean, and allbetween them we intend to take under our special protection, andpreserve and keep as one happy, free, and united people. This is themission of the great Mississippi valley, the heart and soul of thenation and the continent. "

Did these words have any definite meaning to Webster? He knew nothing ofthe West. He sat with his leonine eyes fixed upon young America in theperson of Douglas. No, as for that, Douglas did not know how truly hewas speaking. He could not see in what manner time would fulfill hiswords. No, not even though there was thrilling conviction in his greatvoice, which filled the Senate chamber. 

On the subject of the territories Douglas had offered several bills ofhis own. I can't remember their order, their substance, beyond the factthat they looked to the territorial control of slavery. But I remember avery cutting reply that he made to one Senator who interrupted him toask by what authority a territory could legislate upon slavery. "Yourbill conceded that a representative government is necessary--agovernment founded upon the principles of popular sovereignty, and theright of the people to enact their own laws; and for this reason yougive them a legislature constituted of two branches; you confer uponthem the right to legislate upon all rightful subjects of legislation, except negroes. Why except negroes? I am not therefore prepared to saythat under the Constitution we have not the power to pass laws excludingnegro slaves from the territories. But I do say that if left to myselfto carry out my own opinions I would leave the whole subject to thepeople of the territories themselves. "

In a sense Clay was the center of attraction, both because he hadreturned after a long absence and because he was expected to use hisconciliatory power toward a settlement which would satisfy both theNorth and the South. He had come to Washington expecting to be receivedwith open arms by President Taylor. He had been disappointed. He was notoverstrong, being in his seventy-third year. But his old charm had notfaded, his power over men had not abated. He had loved a drink, a gameof cards; he was a slave owner, from a slave state; he had not beenconsistent in his thinking and his preachment. True to his peculiar giftof leadership and negotiation, he had framed a compromise which providedfor the admission of California as a free state. This contradicted thedoctrine of the right of the state to come into the Union free or slave, as it chose. The bill provided further for the admission of Utah and NewMexico with or without slavery as they might choose. This impugned theadmissional doctrine of California. It provided for the abolition of theslave trade in the District of Columbia, and for the passage of afugitive slave law, such as would satisfy the South. A motley bill!Calhoun was against it. He demanded the extension of slavery into theterritory acquired from Mexico, and proposed an amendment to theConstitution providing for two presidents, one from the South and onefrom the North, with a veto over each other's acts. Any absurdity forthe sake of slavery! Perhaps disease had something to do with thisunreason. He died in April before any law was passed. 

Webster supported Clay's bill, thus standing for the admission of Utahand New Mexico with or without slavery as they might decide. Douglas inthe discussion, with his eye for the concrete, pointed out that theordinance of 1787, and the Missouri Compromise as well, were practicallydead letters. As to the free law respecting Oregon, Oregon hadpreviously fixed the freedom status for herself. As to the fantasticproposition of striking a balance between the North and the South, giving them equal new states of freedom and slavery, he pointed out thatthat was a moral and physical impossibility. The cause of freedom hadsteadily advanced, the cause of slavery steadily failed. "We all lookforward with confidence to the time when Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, Kentucky, and Missouri, and probably North Carolina and Tennessee, willadopt a gradual system of emancipation. In the meantime we have a vastterritory, stretching from the Mississippi to the Pacific, which israpidly filling up with a hardy, enterprising, and industriouspopulation, large enough to form at least seventeen new free states. Now, let me inquire, where are you to find the slave territory withwhich to balance these seventeen free territories, or even any one ofthem?"

This was not exactly placating the South. Douglas missed his opportunityas a demagogue. 

Turning to Webster Douglas said: "California came in free according tothose laws of nature and God to which the Senator of Massachusettsalluded. It would be free under any bill you may pass or without anybill at all. " And Seward spoke for a law higher than the Constitution. Well, there were many laws of justice, mercy, and ethics which theConstitution did not comprehend. Still, if it came to a question of law, what law was to be observed? The laws that were written, the lawsrelating to the progress of the country, the laws that worked for peaceamong the American people? If Webster could vote for this compromise, surely Douglas could. Both might have to return to their homes, there toface hostility arising from a different vision of the questions thanthat these men had, acting upon their responsibility and attempting toreconcile many interests. 

In point of fact, Douglas returned to Chicago to find a storm ofdisfavor rising about him. His enemies were multiplying. His own statewas disappointed in him. The South distrusted him. But he had infiniteconfidence in his own strength. Webster was declining, both he and Claywere soon to die. But Douglas was only thirty-seven. More than thirtyyears yet before he would reach their age. Clay's Compromises had becomea law. The slavery question was settled. Now for the Illinois Centralrailroad. 

CHAPTER XLIII

We returned from Washington to New York, for much was going on in themetropolis. The newspapers day by day were full of Douglas and hisdifficulties in Chicago. The common council had adopted a resolutioncensuring Douglas, calling the Clay Compromises a violation of the lawsof God. The aldermen of Chicago must have been affected by the religiouspsychology which was now sweeping the country. 

We read that Douglas had heard that a mass-meeting was about to indorsethe resolution of the city council; he had gone to the hall to defendhimself and had been greeted by hisses and catcalls. He had faced hishecklers, forced them to adjourn until he could address them; then hehad addressed them, carried them by storm and procured the resolutionsto be expunged. 

Evidently the city council did not understand the Clay Compromises. Orhad Douglas' oratory swept them off their feet? It may not be a pleasingsight to see a slave returned to its master, but what are you going todo with the law? Are you willing to violate the Constitution for thenegro? A heckler asked him: "Are not the provisions of the Constitutionrespecting the return of a fugitive slave a violation of the law ofGod?" Douglas was quick to reply: "The divine law does not prescribethe form of government under which we shall live, and the character ofour political and civil institutions. Revelation has not furnished uswith a constitution, a code of international law, and a system of civiland municipal jurisprudence. If this Constitution is to be repudiatedfor the law of God, who is to be the prophet to reveal the will of Godand establish a theocracy for us?"

I began to think of this law of God. Men are always reaching for it. Sometimes it is only a club for interest or revenge. You have offendedme. God will punish you. If God was opposed to slavery he could haveprevented it in the beginning and He could terminate it now. PerhapsDouglas thought of this when saying that God had not provided a code ofmunicipal law. If He had, He could have written freedom into theConstitution. Douglas was at least sure that he knew as much about thelaw of God as Garrison or Seward, or abolitionist lecturers in backhalls. 

De Tocqueville had written that "America is the country of the wholeworld where the question of religion has asserted the most real powerover the souls of men. " The ringing of church bells, church going, revivals, the calling upon God to note and punish sin, pervaded thecountry and the cities. The Bible was a textbook of God's thinking. Itjustified slavery in the South; it encouraged abolitionism in the North;it suggested interference and regimentation; it counseled forgivenessand vengeance. 

At this time in New York one could not turn or pick up the most casualpublication without finding something in the nature of a moralpropagandum. At breakfast I read from the _New York Independent_ that"Rum, profaneness and Sabbath breaking always go together. " The editorwas "sorry to find that the stockholders of the Saratoga railroad stillrun their cars upon the Sabbath. It is an odious and monstrousviolation, not only of the laws of God, but of all the decencies ofChristian society. And yet I had noticed ladies traveling in them, thundering into Saratoga on the Lord's Day. Women traveling in a publicconveyance on the Sabbath. There is something in this peculiarlydegrading and shameful. It ought to be only the lowest of the sex thatwould stoop to such debasement. " And another paper said: "We are sorryto learn that the directors have established an accommodation train forSunday morning between this city and Poughkeepsie, in addition to themail train to Albany. Mr. James Boorman, through whose efficient serviceas President the road was mainly built, has resigned his office asdirector and has addressed a firm remonstrance to the Board against thisimpiety. "

This was the time in which Douglas was now working. Every one knew whatthe law of God was. Every one appealed to the Bible as God's word. Formuch of this Douglas had perfect contempt; and he was quick to sense ataint of it in Seward, or any one whom it had infected. Such men asStephens of the South were insisting now that the real intellect-of theNorth cared nothing about slavery, and only used it to masquerade theircentralizing plots. If local self-government could be extinguished forthe purposes of abolition why not for anything, in behalf of which amoral enthusiasm could be evoked? Why not a constitutional amendmentestablishing a state religion? Why not a state religion under thepresent constitutional clause which makes provision for the generalwelfare?

One day when Dorothy and I were seated at Niblo's at luncheon I feltsome one touch my shoulder. I looked up and saw Aldington, back of himAbigail, who was laughing at my expression of surprise. We all brokeinto exclamations. They had just returned from Europe. They joined us inthe meal; and there was scarcely enough time to tell back and forth allthat was of mutual interest. He saw me with the _Independent_ and beganto rally me. "Did you know, " he said, "that the early Puritans in NewEngland were the progenitors of one third of the whole population of theUnited States by 1834? They constitute one half of the population of thestates of Ohio and New York now, and they have gone into the northwest. They will make trouble for your Douglas. I admit that they have blightedart and hobbled literature. They have expurgated Shakespeare, they havefought the theater, they are always ready for the moral battle. Theyknow what God wants better than anybody. In a sense they are hounds inpursuit of a lot of things in the great hunt of life. They are astubborn lot. It will be hard to take away from them anything that istheir own, and also to keep them from destroying anything that theydon't want. "

"Well, now don't you see, " I asked, "that Douglas is against all thesepeople and that he has all these influences to fight? For example, thesePuritans cannot rule if popular sovereignty is adopted everywhere. Theyare numerically too inferior. How, for example, can you stop therailroads on Sunday if you let communities, states, control the matter?But if these fanatics get into control of the Federal government, theycan do it. Don't you see the point? This is what Douglas is thinkingabout. He knows that you can have freedom about life only where everyman has a say. "

Then we began to talk of the religious revival. Periodicals were notingthe great turn of the public mind to religion. "Fruits of the spirit"were extolled. Great and glorious works of divine grace were wrought inMaine. A village in Massachusetts had enjoyed "a heavenly refreshingfrom the presence of the Lord. " In Cincinnati there was "an outpouringof the spirit. " In the woods of Michigan men rode into a village toobtain mercy, having heard that the Lord was there. In New York Citynoon prayer meetings were held. A conductor found salvation suddenlywhile operating his horse car in Sixth Avenue. A sailor saw Christ atthe wheel. Christ was met in parlors, in places of worldly gayety. Anactor had been rescued from his wicked calling. Harriet Beecher Stowewrote: "We trust since prayer has once entered the counting rooms itwill never leave it; and that the ledger, sandbox, the blotting book andthe pen and ink will all be consecrated by heavenly presence. " Herbrother, the pastor of Plymouth church, had converted one hundred andninety souls. A theater was used for a place of worship. Actors werecalled upon to repent: You who have portrayed human nature before thefootlights, fall on your knees and acknowledge God! Rum had been drivenfrom a saloon near this theater. "Thank God, " said Beecher, "let us praysilently for the space of two minutes. What a history has been here. Aplace of fictitious joys but of real sorrows has been reformed. It isopen for God's people to sing and pray in. God be thanked that Heaven'sgates have been opened in this place of hell. "

Garrison saw the point. Of the revival he wrote that it had "spread likean epidemic in all directions, over a wide extent of country. Prayermeetings, morning, noon and night; prayer meetings in town, village, andhamlet, North and South. The whole thing is an emotional contagionwithout principle. This revival, judging from the past, will promotemeanness, not manliness; delusion, not intelligence; the growth ofbigotry, not of humanity; a spurious religion, not genuine piety. "

Theodore Parker denounced the mania too, and was attacked for it byMethodists and others. He sew that the North had its rain gods, itsprosperity gods, its bread and butter gods, its rituals and devotionsfor these gods; and that the South had the same number of gods. 

What then of the law of God? Douglas was at one with Garrison and Parkerin this criticism of the religious mania. 

Thus we talked along together. The principal thing about Abigail wasthat she despised the South, but for the reason that there was nothingthere but the political mind and that it was concerned almost entirelywith the negro. It had no literature. Longfellow, Emerson, Whittier, Lowell were producing works of merit; and the South was doing nothing. Poe was born in Boston, had lived South, but had written out of nowhere. He had died about a year before, discouraged and broken. 

The most silent voice at the table was Dorothy's. She did not reallyenter into these discussions. Her softer, altogether feminine nature wasdisturbed by these things. Abigail began to laugh. "Why, " she asked, "does every one say here 'how's your health' instead of 'good morning'as they say in England? People look careworn to me in America; they arespare and pallid. Not many ruddy complexions. Why all these sharp-faced, lantern-jawed, lean, sallow, hard-handed people? Why this depression ofspirits? Perhaps they really get a thrill out of religion after all. Whyall these advertisements of quack remedies, why all this calling on God?This is a place of bright sunshine and exhilarating air. After all, I donot understand it. "

"All due to the habits of life, " said Aldington. "Look at the fasteating--look at them here. Too much hot bread and sweets--too much piefor breakfast. Too much pork. Too much living at hotels and boardinghouses. Too much drinking before meals; not enough wine and beer withmeals. Too much tobacco chewing. No exercise. Only the farmer, thelaborer works. They go too far. But where do you see outdoor sports? Nocricket, no rowing. Nothing but trotting around in buggies. Recreationconsists of lounging around on sofas at Saratoga. All the public menill. I hear that Toombs is indisposed. Sumner is in poor health. Douglas, the little giant, is losing strength. What a curious people, aged and young, corrupt and idealistic, candid and hypocritical, religious and materialistic, hoarders and spenders, self-righteous, licentious, Puritanical. " "Like all others, " I interjected. 

"Like no other, " Aldington rejoined. "Go back to your native England andsee. You have forgotten some things. There is such a thing as a definitestock. And if you call the English bulldogs, for example, your Americais a mixture of the wolf, spaniel, lapdog, shepherd, and about allbreeds; and according to the occasion any one of them, with quickchanges. Abigail and I have been here for a number of days and we havebeen entertained by some of her splendacious friends, to use Thackeray'sadjective for American fashion; and the impression it all makes on me isbeyond description. I want to see a better thing made of Chicago. Ireally hate it here, all this striving for money--but of course no placecan beat Chicago for that--but also the idlers here, the worship ofMammon, the dullness and the gloom of elegant people, the extravagantdressing, the liveried servants, all this imitation. And all this talkhere of America being the only religious, free, and enlightened peoplein the world. Why, they are not free at all. The mind must be freebefore the man is free, and the mind cannot be free in a despotism. Theslavery of the North is just as bad as the slavery of the South. Forlook at these people; slaves to fear, slaves to stupid customs, slavesto superstition, slaves to foreign ideas of dress, fashion, wealth;slaves to all the vices by which money is made, and all the tricks andhypocrisies by which it is piled up and invested with rulership; slavesto absurd ideas; slaves to every foolish reform. Why, sometimes as Ithink of it, I see the negro in the South as the freest man in America. He is only a slave as to his labor. Every one must work. Instead ofreceiving money he gets clothes and a hut. He can't go away from theplantation, but why go away? One must be somewhere. And as to theseother things, he is not a slave at all. "

"Yes, and that's not all, " I said. "A money power is fast growing up inthis country which will rule the country so thoroughly that the smalldictation of the cotton industry of the South will not be a comparison. Slavocracy is only one of the scales on the tail of the dragon ofplutocracy. Gold and silver, tariffs, subsidies, colonies, banks ofissue--these are the claws and teeth of the big slavery. "

"So says Adam Smith, " Aldington interjected. 

"Exactly so, and it's all true. Every one of the old timers knew thesethings, Washington, Jefferson, Hamilton. I am beginning to think thatFranklin, Payne, and Jefferson were the truest thinkers and greatestplanners for a republic that America has had. And what do you think ofDouglas now? He is a Nationalist with Jackson, and a Republican withJefferson; a let-alone philosopher all the time. "

"Oh, yes, but Douglas is not educated. He is not really sound. He is notdeep enough. He is not--I hate the word spirituality--but he hasn't theright heat, the right light. I may not be able to put my finger on theexact fault--it is not exactly demagogy--but I see him using blocks ofpeople, who are bound together by a common emotion or idea, as a manmight use a block of stone for his house. He picks them up and puts themin the place that suits his own ambition. There is one thing, however, with which I am inclined to sympathize with Douglas. His appeal isreally more intellectual than emotional. You see an ocean-bound republicrequires imagination to get the thrill out of it, but you can catchanybody in America with a military uniform. And while Douglas may be awar man, so to speak, he is really too honest to play that game. I'llgrant him that much. I think that the Whigs are outplaying him. And itlooks to me that the emotions of America--what some people might callthe conscience of America--are being drawn away from Douglas by thisslavery matter. Just now territory and railroads are not so strong, orwill not be so strong pretty soon as the cry for emancipation. " "I amglad to hear you say these things, " I said. "Douglas is onlythirty-seven; he will not fully mature his powers for ten years yet. Ihave talked with him many times and have known him intimately and Ithink I understand the man. He is distrusted in the South simply becausehe will not bend all law making to the slave interests. He has just beenwritten down in Chicago on the law of God doctrine. And yet he standshis ground against both the North and the South without flinching. Hedefies his enemies. He has the very sanity that you have extolled hereat this table. I think he has the only rational solution for thisslavery question. He is a very great man in my opinion. "

"What do you think of Barnum?" asked Aldington. Abigail looked up andsaid: "Yes, I would like to hear a little about Barnum and less aboutDouglas. I hear that Jenny Lind is coming to town. " "It's to-day, " saidDorothy. "And don't we want to see her arrive? I do, let's go. "

And we all hurried forth to witness the greetings given to the Swedishnightingale. 

CHAPTER XLIV

Barnum had been taken by De Quincey as an epitome of America: "A greathulk of a continent, that the very moon finds fatiguing to cross, produces a race of Barnums on a pre-Adamite scale, corresponding inactivity to its own enormous proportions. "

Barnum had resorted to daily advertising, a great sensationalism to keepup interest in the arrival of the singer. We went from our table to thepier to see her descend from the steamer. Triumphal arches of evergreensand flowers had been erected over the way she passed. A great crowd hadcollected. Bands were playing. Her face came into view. Shouts arose. She bowed and smiled to the wild throngs about her as she rode withBarnum to the Astor House. Here the Swedish and American flags floatedin her honor. New York was in a frenzy of delight. But the tickets tohear her! All this excitement had been worked up for use at the boxoffice. And Aldington could not afford the price. We wished Abigail andAldington to be with us. I therefore submitted to the Barnum extortionfor the whole party. 

Jenny Lind sang at Castle Garden, where I had sat nearly twenty yearsbefore, when New York had about half the population. The crowds pressedaround the entrances. Those who could not afford to enter hoped to get aglimpse of her anyway. It was an enormous audience, and all ofdistinguished New York was there. Senator Webster had been one of thoseto receive her at the pier, and he was in the audience too. We were alldeeply moved by this wonderful voice. Poor Dorothy was frequently dryingher eyes. And when she sang one of her own national airs, Webster satentranced. At its close she courtesied to him. He arose and bowed to herwith the majestic manner of a great monarch. The audience went into afury of applause. Every one spoke of her as good of heart, sweet andnatural of manner. She had given her share of the proceeds of thisconcert to various charities in New York City. A feeling of upliftedlife spread over the metropolis. She melted the souls of thousands, andpurged the craft of money getting. We came away from her as from ahigher realm. "What, " said Abigail, "is anything in the world, money orstatesmanship, what, of all these things of which we have talked to-daycan be compared to an art like that, a divine influence like song?"

After this we started on a round of the theaters. I prevailed upon ourfriends to prolong their stay, to be our guests. We saw Burton and EdwinBooth. We went to the Opera, saw the ballet which Fannie Ellsler hadpreviously inaugurated. The _Independent_ was denouncing the theater asan unmitigated evil; the ballet was a shocking exhibition of legs. Still they had come, and New York had them. 

We dined at Niblo's, at Castle Garden. We drove about the city. We wentout to see Trenton Falls where Jenny Lind had been taken as part of herentertainment, and where she had sung in the woods and been answered bythe birds. 

I began to notice that Dorothy was unusually quiet. She complained offatigue, of pain. We had done too much perhaps. One morning she couldnot arise. Abigail and Aldington were returning to Chicago. We hadexpected to go with them. But Dorothy could not travel now--she couldnot stand that terrible journey of boats and cars, of changes anddelays. So we bade adieu to our friends. 

Dorothy did not rally, as I had expected. She grew weaker day by day. She became gravely ill. In the midst of the extra labor thrown uponMammy, she too was compelled to take to her bed. I was forced to lookabout for servants, finding two Irish girls at last. Then quite suddenlyMammy died. She was very old. And thus we were cut off from all ourpast, Nashville, the old days. And I stayed almost constantly byDorothy's side, trying to bring back her strength. It entered my mind attimes that after all I was not as tender a husband to Dorothy as Ishould have been. I was with her a good deal, to be sure. At the sametime, I was much preoccupied. She did not like politics, and could notshare my interest in that direction. The condition of the country reallydistressed her. She had seen slavery in its benign aspect, and she wasimpatient with any criticism of the institution. 

It was months before Dorothy sat up and began to walk again. I could seethat she was frailer than before and might never be strong again. Ourboy Reverdy was not robust. And the winter was coming on. At the sametime Dorothy did not wish to return to Washington. She wanted to hear nomore of politics. I had to select her books for her, something thatsoothed her, led her into dreams. _Uncle Tom's Cabin_ was now appearingin serial form. I was reading it with great amusement. But I dared notshow it to Dorothy. I had heard Beecher and knew his sentimentalattitude. This book had for me the same quality. Yet it helped me topass many hours while watching by Dorothy's side. Somehow I felt that itwould produce a storm akin to the religious psychology which wassweeping the country. Critics were already noting its moral effect. Mrs. Stowe was hailed by Sumner as a "Christian genius, " a Joan of Arc. Garrison said that it would make two million abolitionists. In Paris itwas compared to Dumas' _The Three Guardsmen_ as a popular _tour deforce_. Others detected in it a resemblance to Rousseau's _NouvelleHéloise_. One pleaded for the liberty of the slave, the other for therights of the peasant. But I knew that the book was not really true. Itforefronted the brutality of slavery, it minimized the benevolentaspects of the institution, which I had myself seen. It was written withintensity of feeling, with the revivalist's method and emotion. It waslike her brother's sermons, and equally unauthentic. Yet how strangelywas this book received. It won Macaulay and Longfellow and George Sand, and stirred the heart of Heine. It exasperated the South. The winds ofdestiny previously let loose were blowing madly now. 

In the midst of my own cares I awoke one morning to read that Douglaswas on his way to Cuba. The thought went through my mind, why not takeDorothy and go in order to give her the benefit of this summer climatethrough the winter? As Douglas had traveled by way of New Orleans he hadstopped in Memphis and I read in the _Tribune_ what he had said to thepeople there: "If old Joshua R. Giddings should raise a colony in Ohioand settle down in Louisiana he would be the strongest advocate ofslavery in the South; he would find when he got there that his opinionwould be very much modified; he would find on those sugar plantationsthat it was not a question between the white man and the negro, butbetween the negro and the crocodile. You come right back to theprinciple of dollars and cents. "

At New Orleans he had uttered the God of nature doctrine: "There is aline or belt of country meandering through the valleys and over themountain tops which is a natural barrier between free territory andslave territory, on the south of which are to be found the productionssuitable to slave labor, while on the north exists a country adapted tofree labor alone. But in the great central region, where there may besome doubt as to the effect of natural causes, who ought to decide thequestion except the people residing there, who have all their intereststhere, who have gone there to live with their wives and children?"

No recognition of a right and a wrong, to be sure. But no expressadvocacy of a wrong. I could not see then, and have never been able tosee since, why Douglas with this practical facing of the business oflife could not fare equally well with public opinion as Hamilton hasfared with it, who advocated corruption in government as a means to anational power. 

I went to Dorothy with my plan about Cuba, telling her that Douglas hadgone there. It stirred her languid spirits. She was all eagerness tostart. We took passage from New York, sailing around Florida, at lastaround Morro Castle into the harbor of Havana. The blueness of thewater, with the balmy wind blowing almost incessantly began to restoreDorothy. The Spanish city lying before our eyes, yellow and continental, awoke her interest. At the dock there were crowds of idlers, Spaniards, negroes, to see us fasten and disembark. With Dorothy and our son andtwo maids we made our way to a hotel near the water. I was anxious tolook up Douglas; but it was impossible the first evening, owing toDorothy's indisposition. She had been seasick and the journey hadfatigued her. Nevertheless we went to the roof of the hotel togetherand sat there until nearly midnight, inhaling the luxurious breeze fromthe gulf and gazing up at the brilliant stars of this tropical sky. 

The next morning I was down to breakfast early, leaving Dorothy to beserved in her room. The hotel was drab and decayed exteriorly; but thedining room was a continental elegance of marble, gilt, and mirrors. Douglas was not stopping here, as I had already learned. I concludedthat he would be at one of the better known hotels on the Prado, and Ihurried thither as fast as I could. I soon located him; but he had goneout for a few days, was making something of a tour of the island, including a visit to the celebrated cave of Matanzas. Leaving a note forDouglas which apprised him of my hotel, I hurried back to Dorothy. Thecity was so brilliant under the golden sunshine, and the air sodelightful, that I wished to spend these wonderful hours in seeing thecity. 

Havana was as novel to me as to Dorothy. It was Spanish, thereforehaving no resemblance to London or any other English town. It seemed tome to be about the size that New York was in 1833. We spent three daysdriving through the Paso de Paula, along the Malecon, up and down thePrado lined with laurels and distinguished for fine houses and clubs. Wevisited the parks, the Exchange, the old churches, the navy yard, LaFueza, built by De Soto, the old markets of Colon and Tacon, the Palace;and we stood in the Cathedral before the medallion which marked theburial place of Columbus when his remains were removed here from SantaDomingo in 1796. We dined about the cafés and hotels, and attended thetheater, and walked, when Dorothy felt equal to it, through the parks, or along the wall of the sea which stretched from the punta. 

I have already recorded so much of wrangling politics and the debates ofinfuriate minds that one might infer that I was leading no life of myown. Do you think that I am only a shadow or a registering machine, andthat Dorothy is not flesh and blood? Sometimes it occurs to me that I amnot treating her as a woman in spite of my desire to be thoughtful. Avast world of rich imagination, of vital emotion was in truth movingabout me all the while, and in breasts that I did not comprehend. Forall my life up to this time and beyond it, as you shall see, wasoccupied with money making and with watching principally the epicdevelopment of America. But I was later to awake as from a day dream orfrom a life in a shell, to the consciousness of a brighter world ofsunlight and of wings. I was at peace now, and with Dorothy, whosefrailty required my watchfulness and my care, and whom I delighted toplease with lovely things. That was the extent of my emotional life. Andso we drove, and visited the shops in Opispo Street. For I was waitingfor Douglas. I wanted to take him off to a bull fight or a cock fight. And I was eager to hear him talk of his plans, of America, of anythingthat came from his fluent and restless mind. 

One evening when Dorothy and I were in the comfortable lounging chairson the roof of the hotel, looking over toward Morro Castle, counting thelargest of the richly brilliant stars, Douglas came upon us. He hadreturned from his trip only that afternoon. Finding my note, and leavingother engagements, he had come over to call, delighted and surprised tofind that we were in Havana. Cuba already had a railroad, but it was notof much extent. He had been traveling by carriage, and in the hillierlocalities in a vehicle of two enormous wheels, drawn by horses drivenin tandem. He had seen the cave, the pineapple fields, the sugarplantations. His imagination was already at work for America. 

He went on to say to me that whenever the people of Cuba should showthemselves worthy of freedom by asserting their independence and shouldapply for annexation to the United States, they ought to be annexed. Andthat whenever Spain should be ready to sell Cuba, with the consent ofits inhabitants, the United States should accept the chance. With spirithe exclaimed that if Spain should transfer Cuba to England, or any otherEuropean power America should take Cuba by force. "It is folly, " hesaid, "to debate the acquisition of the island. It naturally belongs tothe American continent. It guards the mouth of the Mississippi River, which is the heart of the American continent and the body of theAmerican nation. " This led Douglas to speak, and with bitterness, of theClayton-Bulwer treaty, which had given England joint control of anycanal across the Isthmus of Panama. "I was disgusted with this treatyas I was disgusted with the settlement of the Oregon boundary. Just lookat it! Here the Monroe Doctrine has been an avowed policy for thirtyyears, declaring that no European colonization will be permitted inAmerica. And what happens? Whenever there has been no opportunity toenforce the doctrine, because there has been nothing at issue, we havecock-a-doodle-dooed; and whenever a chance has arisen to enforce it wehave beaten a retreat, frightened to death by the awful consequences ifwe do enforce it. Frightened by our own spokesmen, Senators and others. Frightened by England in the main; for truly we have no other power tofear. So when the Clayton-Bulwer treaty came up I fought it as I foughtPolk on the Oregon boundary of '49. I said then, and I say now, that thetime may come when we shall want to possess some portion of CentralAmerica. It has come to the pass that I can't stand for America as tonew territory without having the Abolitionists charge me with favoritismto the South. But it's a lie and history will vindicate me. But if Iwant Cuba or Central America for slavery I want them also for America. And what does England want them for? For freedom, I suppose, for thegood of America! The agreement not to fortify the canal was notreciprocal, because England holds Jamaica, which guards the entrance tothe canal. What rights did England have to the Mosquito Coast? Well, hertitle is at least doubtful. 

"But what I hate about the canal treaty is the recognition of the rightof European powers to intervene in American affairs. We contracted withEngland to protect any canal or railroad across the Isthmus; and notonly that, we invited other European powers to join with us in thatprotection. And that lets in all the kings of Europe, and where's yourMonroe Doctrine? It vanishes into air. Study it out; you will see allthese Whigs and all these motley groups joining the Whigs, pullingtogether by a sort of momentum started by the old crowd which sided withEngland against America in the Revolution. They are the same crowd thattried to break down the American system when they were banded togetheras Federalists. They tried secession at Hartford, when they didn't likethe War of 1812; then they held up their hands in horror when SouthCarolina threatened to secede over the tariff. They called on God toavenge the Mexican War; then they grabbed this slavery matter to givethem a moral push into power. They elected a President, but were afraidto formulate a platform. All the while they had played with England, skulking and running and fawning upon England, when our vital interestswere at stake, and siding with England on the canal and on Oregon. Theyare better than other men! They are more holy! They are pure, just, broad! They love God! They are the only Christians! There is only oneevil and that is slavery! But there are many gods, of which banks andtariffs are not the least; yet I notice that they do not give awayTexas and California, those unholy fruits of a wicked war for which youfought, my friend. They like the gold and the wheat. And in order toride into power they put forward old Taylor, and blow hot and cold withhim and Millard Fillmore. "

The great organ-like voice of Douglas poured forth a steady stream oftalk as we sat together under the wonderful stars of a clear sky, withthe soft breeze from the Gulf blowing around us. Dorothy had fallenasleep. I got up and looked at her, and finding her resting peacefully Ireturned to my chair. It was now near midnight. We could hear the rattleof cabs on the cobblestones, the cries of strange voices in Spanish; andwe saw the lights in the harbor, the lights in the Prado, over the citywhich was still feasting and playing. Then Douglas confided to me thathe was going to be a candidate for President in this next campaign of1852. 

The prospects were very good, he thought. If he could get two or threewestern states to speak out in his favor he would win. He wondered if Icould not go to Iowa for him. He hoped to have the leading politiciansof Illinois as delegates at Baltimore. He wished me to be a delegate, not that I was a leading politician, but I counted for as much since Iwas an old friend and a sympathetic adherent. I told him to use me inany way that would serve him. 

Having all these enterprises on his hands he was leaving for Mobile inthe morning. No time to see a bull fight. "I'll not say good night toMrs. Miles, " he said. "Let her sleep. " He got up to tiptoe away. "Goodnight, Senator, " called Dorothy. She had aroused at the cessation of ourtalk. Douglas returned and in his most gallant manner bade Dorothy goodnight. Then he strode away, stepped through the trapdoor, began todescend, disappeared. I looked up at the great stars. Then liftingDorothy into my arms, I carried her to the stairs and on my back to ourroom. 

CHAPTER XLV

Dorothy and I lingered in Havana until we were sure that spring had cometo Chicago. Then we took a boat to New Orleans; and once again Iascended the Mississippi to St. Louis, and thence to Chicago by theIllinois River and the canal. 

It was still cool in Chicago, the air fresh and vital. Great spaces ofdeep blue stood far back, cool and thrillingly serene; against thesespaces the white clouds coming over from the far west and disappearinginto havens over the lake and into Michigan. The lake was roaring to thestiff breezes of the blustering spring. 

Chicago was a thrilling spectacle. The Illinois Central railroad wasbeing built. The railroad mileage in the country had now risen to morethan ten thousand miles. The short roads with steamboat connections weregiving way to the trunk lines. Boston was now connected by rail withMontreal. There were nine hundred miles of railroad in Ohio; six hundredin Indiana; about four hundred in Illinois. The Michigan Centralconnected Chicago with Detroit. The Michigan Southern was opened, andthe first train from the East had entered Chicago. A train had startedwest from St. Louis on the first five miles of the Pacific railroad. Telegraph lines stuck forth everywhere into the great spaces of thecountry, like the new shoots of a tree. 

The breech-loading gun had been invented. The fire-alarm telegram systemhad come into use. 

Thackeray had come over from England to smile upon us genially, tolecture at the rate "of a pound a minute, " as he had expressed it. YoungAmerica was putting old America behind her. 

Calhoun was gone. Clay, defeated in his life's ambition to be President, had crept to his grave. Webster was a dying man. The slavery questionhad vexed and shadowed his dying years. He had supported the Compromisesof 1850 and had been bitterly denounced for it. Whittier had expungedhis name from the list of the great and the good. He had wanted to bePresident too. Men like General Harrison had secured the prize over hishead. He was reduced to the rejection of the proffered Vice Presidency. He had been Secretary of State under Harrison, Tyler, and Fillmore. Hehad supported the bank, the tariff, implied powers, and Hamiltonism. Hehad followed Clay's leadership. Still he had risen to great heights oforatory and legalistic reason. Carlyle had called him a logic machine inpants. His debate with Hayne, however, was to furnish the material forone of the greatest of state papers, to be written less than a decadefrom this day. From the hills of Massachusetts he failed to see theWest. Young Douglas had fronted him and told him of the power of the newand growing country along the Mississippi River. Old America waspassing. The West was asking for the highest recognition. Douglas wasthirty-nine and seemed to be the man for President. 

I did not pretend to be a politician, but only an observer and Douglas'friend. I read everything that was written about the questions of theday, the newspapers, the _Congressional Record_. It was clear to me thatthe Democrats had been split in 1848 by their attitude toward the WilmotProviso, which was intended to keep slavery from the Texan territory. Then came the Compromises under a Whig administration. The Compromiseswere hated by the South and cursed by the Abolitionists in the North. The Democrats were united by an acquiescence in the Compromises. And nowthe Whigs were divided because of them. They had played foxy in '48 by ano-platform. They were unable to have one, because they had no unitedvoice. The Free Soil party had collapsed in Illinois. Altogether hopesran high for the Democrats. But who should be the candidate?

Douglas! He seemed to me the ideal man, as Webster seemed the ideal manto admiring Whigs. But Douglas, like Webster, was doomed to fail, atleast in this convention. The prize was captured by Franklin Pierce, whom no one knew, but it was not until the forty-ninth ballot. On theforty-eighth ballot Douglas had thirty-three votes to Pierce'sfifty-five. Then there was a stampede to Pierce. The West had lost. Young America was put aside for a fair-sized man from New Hampshire. 

The Whigs met the same month in Baltimore. Webster, soon to die, wasagain a candidate. The platform was made and submitted to him. Heapproved of it. It indorsed the Compromises. But again there was an oldsoldier in the field, in the person of General Scott. He had fought theBritish in 1812. He had made treaties with the Sauk, Fox, Winnebago, andSioux tribes after the Black Hawk War. Yes, he had made a brilliantrecord in the Mexican War. In mental stature he was up to the knees ofWebster, and no more. But Webster had no imaginative appeal. He couldonly pull twenty-nine votes on the first ballot, as against Scott's onehundred and thirty-one votes. Webster never had more than thirty-twovotes. On the fifty-third ballot Scott was nominated. And in a fewmonths Webster died, and left the tangles of statecraft to other hands. 

Who was Franklin Pierce? Pretty soon Hawthorne, whose romances I hadenjoyed so much, put forth a life of his long-time friend. "When afriend dear to him almost from boyhood days stands up before hiscountry, misrepresented by indiscriminate abuse on the one hand, and byaimless praise on the other, it is quite proper that he should besketched by one who has had opportunities of knowing him well and who iscertainly inclined to tell the truth. " These were Hawthorne's words. Pierce was a gentleman of truth and honor, devoted to his family and tohis country, accomplished, of fine appearance, and always Democratic. But how could this man win against an old soldier? Webster and Douglashad lost the nomination, how could a gentleman win the election?

I returned to Chicago and to my business. But Douglas' term for Senatorwas about to expire, and he necessarily entered the campaign with vigor. He traveled from Virginia to Arkansas, from New York to Illinois and allover his own state. He mocked Scott's letter of acceptance, attributingits composition to Seward. His physical endurance seemed exhaustless. All the while he was living and confraternizing and drinking. Pierce waselected. Douglas won the legislature for another Senatorial term. In themidst of these excitements Mrs. Douglas died. 

She had been to our house but recently. If I had prophesied between herand Dorothy I should have believed the end would come to Dorothy first. Dorothy was so frail, so incapable of effort. Already I was beginning tothink of a milder climate for her for the winter. 

Douglas now seemed to lose heart. His temper became bitter. His dresswas slovenly, his manners familiar, his associations indifferent. He wasdrinking too much. In his public utterances he was more emphatic, morecaustic of tongue. If the loss of the nomination had disappointed him, the death of Mrs. Douglas had overwhelmed him. He was not interested inhis Illinois Central. He was doing nothing with his large tract of landthree miles south of Madison Street. He was very well off. But he hadno heart to enjoy his prosperity. He was doing nothing about foundinghis university. He was a giant sorely smitten, ready to rouse fromirritability into fury against his enemies. He was in a poor way tomaster his own spirit and future. 

I suggested to him a trip to Europe to forget his sorrows, to recuperatehis spirits. He liked the idea. But first he had to return to theSenate. There he spoke of Cuba and its annexation, almost in the samewords he had used when talking to me that midnight on the roof of thehotel in Havana. Bitterly he denounced the Clayton-Bulwer treaty. Audaciously he excoriated England. Almost immediately he was off tovisit England, but not to see Queen Victoria, although invited to herpresence. He went to Russia, saw the Czar. He visited the Crimea andSyria. From New Orleans I followed his travels. I had taken Dorothythere to escape the Chicago winter. 

CHAPTER XLVI

New Orleans had grown to be a city of 170, 000 people. Its commerce wasenormous. It was the great entrepôt of the continent's sugar and cottonindustries. 

Day by day I stood on the wharves, watching the steamers unload andload, gazing over the busy mass of humanity back of which was labor, black and white, slave and free! The great Mississippi, broad and foul, waking from its sleep in the lowlands above, gathering speed here, feeling the call of the sea, begins to move with increased life. Acrossfrom the city are lowlands, sugar refineries, smoke stacks. The negroescall to each other, laugh with spontaneous, childlike humor. The wharfofficers, the brokers, pass with intense faces. It is hot. Sweat dripsfrom black faces and from white. Whips crack. Mules trot and stumbleover the loose and resounding boards. Heavy wheels rumble. And the lifeof gambling, drinking, pleasure, crawls about the French quarter, alongCanal Street, on Royal Street. The bell in the Cathedral rings. I catchthe whiff of flowers. Gulls fly over the muddy water. 

I think of Douglas far away in Russia, of all my life in its early days, now growing so misty. I am more than thirty-seven; and sometimes I feelweary. I grieve for Dorothy. She has wound herself with tendernessaround my heart. But less and less can she share life with me. 

I go to the Place d'Armes to see the equestrian statue of Jackson whichhas been erected here since my last visit. It is now called JacksonSquare. The St. Louis Cathedral has been largely rebuilt. I wanderthrough the Cabildo again, visit the old cemeteries, read the names ofthe dead. The scent of strange blossoms affects me poignantly. I strollthrough the parks, and I visit the life in the French quarter. 

Dorothy can drive with me at times, but not for long. Our boy distressesher; and a governess keeps him away much of the time. There are memoriesall about me. La Fayette has been here. He was in this very Cabildo. Theold hero of New Orleans, who blessed Dorothy and me, walked thesestreets. Now he is long gone. Clay is gone, Webster, Calhoun. Thecountry is at a pause. Hawthorne's friend is President. And Douglas isin St. Petersburg, riding a horse grotesquely, and bringing his westernways into the very presence of the Czar. 

Sometimes I wonder if Zoe is not alive, if some kind of consummate trickwas not played on me. Fortescue did not kill her. He did not seem to melike a man who would commit murder. Why would any one murder Zoe? Mightshe not have been sold for her loveliness to some man desiring amistress? No! Zoe would write to me if she were living. Yet I wenteverywhere in New Orleans searching for Zoe. 

Often I visited the St. Louis hotel, for there young quadroons andoctoroons on sale, tastefully dressed, were inspected by men with allthe critical and amorous interest with which a roué would look upon theobject of his desire. Their eyes were gazed into, their hair stroked, their limbs caressed and outlined, their busts stared at and touched. Men went mad over these beauties. 

A story went the rounds that a young man in Virginia fell in love withan octoroon slave while on a visit to a country house. The girl had goneto her mistress for protection, and received it, against the man'sadvances. But he had returned, saying that he could not live without thegirl. The mistress had sold her to him for $1500. Did Zoe meet thatfate, and not violence?

So I searched the cafes, the places of amusement, the bagnios for Zoe. And into every octoroon's face in which I saw a resemblance to Zoe Ipeered, hoping that it would be she. For with Dorothy so much ill, andwith no one in the world of my own but Dorothy and our boy, I had hoursof profound loneliness. In New Orleans this winter I was more lonelythan I had ever been in my life. I no longer had to strive, I had moneyenough. And all the while my real estate investments in Chicago doubledand trebled while I traveled. 

There were many French in New Orleans; there was reverence there andmemory for Bonaparte. There was gladness and exultation now that LouisNapoleon had accomplished a coup d'état and established a throne uponthe ruins of the republic. His soldiers were in the Crimea, fighting asdesperately as if great wealth or fame could be won by their valor anddeath. But it was all for the glory of the French throne! A Frenchmonarchy again, after the struggles of Mirabeau, after the agony ofMarat, and after the rise of republican principles which Douglas hadhailed with delight! If these things could be done with honor andapplause, did Douglas deserve the hostility which was rising up againsthim? Was America so immaculately free that Douglas' subordination of thenegro to the welfare of the republic at large should be so severelydealt with?

On the bulletin boards in great headlines, the progress of the CrimeanWar was heralded. The French soldiers were winning imperishable glory. The Light Brigade had died for God and the glory of England in thecharge at Balaklava. Cavour had sent the Sardinians to help France andEngland against the Russians; these were soon to fight for the libertyof Italy. Always liberty and God! Russia had gone to war against theTurks because of a quarrel between the Greek and Latin Christians atJerusalem. Then the Czar demanded of the Turk the right of aprotectorate over all Greek Christians in the Ottoman empire. It wasrefused. Hence war. And England and France and Cavour's Sardinians arefighting Russia. Perhaps the Latin church is the inspiring cause. Mindsand noses concur, and the result is conscience. 

America is in a distressed condition and growing worse. Politics raves. Malice, destroying forces are abroad. Always war with or without thesword. The Greek Christian must be protected; but the Turk must not bevanquished, his country taken by Russia. Louis Napoleon would win alittle glory. England needs the Turk, because she lusts for Egypt andIndia. France wants Algeria and Morocco. In America the North wantspower; the South wants power. Men are anxious for office. Labor hasinterests at stake; so has manufacturing. Farsighted money makers, imperialists, deploy these factions; parties are formed; the populace isfooled with war records and catch words. Men must be destroyed in orderto achieve results--for God and liberty. Among others, Douglas must bedestroyed!

He has risen from obscurity to be the first man in America in the realmof statecraft. He has been a cabinet maker, a lawyer, a legislator, ajudge, a Senator, then a leader, now chairman of the committee onterritories. He has perfected political efficiency, introduced theconvention system, done for representative government what the reaperhas done for the harvest field. He has done this all himself withoutwealth or family to boost him. He is charged with being clever andresourceful, but no one points to corruption in his life. Is there astatesman in Europe or one in America with a cleaner record? His wholeenergy has been devoted to the development of the country. He has workedfor schools, for colleges, for canals, for railroads, for the quickdissemination of intelligence, for the rule of the people on everysubject, including slavery, and for that rule in places of maturingsovereignty, like territories, and in places of complete sovereignty, like states. He is spiritually hard, hates the sap-head, the agitator, the simple-hearted moralist. He is indifferent to slavery, when itstands in the way of his republic building. He knows that slavery cannotthrive in the North. He knows that prairies of corn, hills of iron andcoal, fields of wheat are as alien to slavery as the tropics are aliento polar bears and reindeer. He sees a God who works through climate;and he sees that the cotton calls for a certain kind of worker, and cornfor another. He did not read and he did not know much of anything of thework of Marx and the Revolutionary Manifesto of 1848. He did not needto. He sensed the materialistic conception of history. He had no horrorof slavery, knowing exactly what it was; on the other hand he wasfalsely accused of trying to plant it in the territories. 

He was hunted and traduced! Moralists prattled of his lack of a moralnature; envy tracked him, shooting from ambush! He had become rich andfamous. He was the first man in his party. He was young and full ofpower. He might be President. The sanctimonious quoted Scripture againsthim. "Where a man's treasure is, there will be his heart also, " said anenemy in the Senate, referring to the fact that Douglas had married awoman who was a slave owner. Douglas had replied in these manly andtender words: "God forbid that I should be understood by any one asbeing willing to cast from me any responsibility that now does or hasever attached to any member of-my family. So long as life shall last andI shall cherish with religious veneration the memories and virtues ofthe sainted mother of my children--so long as my heart shall be filledwith paternal solicitude for the happiness of those motherlessinfants, I implore my enemies who so ruthlessly invade the domesticsanctuary to do me the favor to believe that I have no wish, noaspiration to be considered purer or better than she, who was, or theywho are slaveholders. "

It was while I was in New Orleans that Douglas wrote me a letterregarding the Presidency. "I do not wish to occupy that position, " hesaid. "I think that such a state of things will exist that I shall notdesire the nomination. Yet I do not intend to do any act which willdeprive me of the control of my own action. Our first duty is to thecause--the fate of individual politicians is of minor consequence. Theparty is in a distracted condition, and it requires all our wisdom, prudence, and energy to consolidate its power and perpetuate itsprinciples. "

It was this letter that stirred my reflections as I went about NewOrleans reading of conditions in Europe and foolishly searching forZoe. Moreover, I was beginning to be tired of everything in America, andparticularly worn with New Orleans. I longed to be back in Chicago inthe fresh air by the lake, away from the steam, the heat, the sensualatmosphere of this southern city. Yet Dorothy could not just now ventureinto the changeable climate of Lake Michigan. I was forced to stay onfor her sake. I continued my wanderings and my thoughts about the city, guiding my business interests in Chicago by correspondence. 

But at last we started. 

CHAPTER XLVII

I wanted to stop on the way to see Reverdy and Sarah. I had a call tothe renewal of the old days, to an overlooking of the farm, the places Ihad first known in Illinois. But as Dorothy wished to be home, to settleinto a regular life of comfort at once, I had to take her to Chicago andthen return later to Jacksonville. Before leaving I had severalconferences with Mr. Williams about our joint interests; and we talkedof Douglas too. 

Mr. Williams thought that Douglas was getting deeper and deeper intotrouble. The Compromises of 1850 were only partially satisfactory. Theyhad not appeased the Abolitionists. A new party was growing up aroundthe discontent which those Compromises had created. Mr. Pierce'sadministration had met some disturbances, though it had sufficed in themain. He had gone into office with the support of many of the best menof the country, as, for example, Bryant, the poet, and of courseHawthorne, his boyhood friend. Since his election the Whig party hadgone to pieces. There was no party but the Democratic party. Beside itnothing but factions and groups trying to find a way to unite. Chief ofthese was the Know-nothings who stood for what they called Americanism, and raised an opposition to Catholicism. Next were the Abolitionists. There were smaller bodies, all inharmonious. I felt that Douglas wasdestined to drive these lawless resolutes into defeat and becomePresident. He was not in Chicago now; but I was soon to see him. In themeanwhile I thought I would go to see Reverdy and Sarah. 

Reverdy was now in the middle fifties, and aging. Sarah looked thin andworn. She was really an old woman. Amos was a man. He had taken up withfarming near Jacksonville. Jonas was nearing his twentieth year. Thestory was for the most part told for them all as one family. 

Reverdy and I drove about the country; and it had changed so much. Boundaries had disappeared; forests had vanished. Familiar houses hadgiven way to pretentious residences, many built in the southern style ofTennessee or Kentucky. Great barns dotted the landscape. Yet the pioneerwas still here. My old fiddler in the woods had aged, but he was muchhimself. He played for us. And we went to the log hut, in which I hadlived during my first winter on the farm. Here it was with its chimneyof sticks, its single room of all uses, the very symbol of humble life, of solitariness in the woods. I had lived here when the country waswild, but Reverdy said that before my coming to Illinois it was wilderstill and more lonely. "What do you think, " said Reverdy, "of a man anda woman living here in the most primitive days; no church, no schools. No doctors to relieve suffering, or scarcely to attend a birth. Nobooks, or but few. The long winters of snow; silence except whenterrible storms broke over a roof like this. Imagine yourself born andreared in such a place; all the family sleeping in this one room in thebitter cold of winter. Sickness without medicine. Imagine Douglas livinghere. His early youth had its hardships; but after all he has had acomfortable life. He soon became prosperous. Now he is rich. What publicman has become so rich? Yes, here is the American cotter's home; and somany boys have come out of a place like this and gone to the wars orinto public life. It is America's symbol. "

"You do not like Douglas, do you, Reverdy?" I asked, as we turned away. "Yes, I like him, I have always supported him--but somehow I feel thathe is not good enough. I don't know what else to call it. You know, Idon't like slavery; at the same time I don't know what to do with it. Sometimes I think Douglas' plan is all right, again I am not sure. Allthe time I feel that there is not enough sympathy in his nature forthese poor negroes. I confess that at times I am for letting theterritories manage it for themselves; and at other times I am forkeeping it out of the territories by law. All the while I like Douglas'plan for the West. He has done wonderful work for the country. I wish Icould make myself clearer, but I can't. I saw slavery in the South andknow what it is. I am a good deal like Clay. He had slaves but dislikedthe institution. I have never had any slaves and I dislike it as much. Yet the question is what to do. If you keep it where it is you simplylay a siege about it. Great suffering will come in that way to thenegroes of course. It is a kind of strangulation, selfish and small. Onthe other hand, if you give it breathing space what will become of thecountry? I know Douglas' argument that it cannot exist in the North. Butsuppose you have it all over the South, that's pretty big. Besides, what's to hinder new work being found for the slaves? Why can't they digcoal and gold like peons? Why can't they farm? Perhaps not; and yet I amnot so sure of Douglas on that. He is the most convincing man in theworld when you are with him. But when he goes away from you his spellslips off and you see the holes in his argument. "

"You have been reading and thinking, haven't you, Reverdy?"

"Oh, yes, all the time. What I am afraid of is a war. I had a little dabof it in the Black Hawk trouble. But a war between these states wouldshake the earth. I have two boys, you know. Sarah worries about it. Everybody's beginning to live in a kind of terror. "

"I have read about it too, ever since I have been in America. I haveapplied my philosophically exercised faculties to it. I have talked withMr. Williams about it many times and with Douglas. I have had dozens ofconversations on all these things. It seems to me that I could advancesome new arguments myself. "

"What new arguments could you advance?" asked Reverdy. 

"Well, " I said, "suppose I wanted to take a definite stand that slaveryis wrong, which these Whigs won't. They only play with the question. They want to limit it perhaps. But why? Is it wrong? Or is it againstnorthern interests? What? But suppose I took such a stand and needed alegal foundation. Couldn't I say that Congress could prohibit slavery inthe territories under the power it has to regulate commerce betweenthem? I put this question to Mr. Williams and he hadn't thought of it;but he told me that Judge Marshall held that commerce was traffic. Verywell? Isn't slavery traffic? It's buying and selling. It impressesthings that are bought and sold--cotton. And slaves are the subject oftraffic. Therefore to regulate it--keep the slaves out of theterritories where they might be bought and sold after getting into theterritories, as well as where they might be sold into theterritories--is the regulation of commerce, isn't it? Well now, isn'tthat better than calling the territories property and subject to thearbitrary rule of Congress as merely inert matter? If you can rule theterritories arbitrarily as to slavery, why not as to anything else?Suppose we annex Cuba; under this doctrine we could rule Cubaarbitrarily, just as England ruled the Colonies here arbitrarily. Thentake the assumption that Congress has the power to keep slavery out ofthe territories; just the power, not the express duty; well, it followsthat Congress has the power to let it in the territories. If it can putit in or out of the territories it can leave the territories to put itin or out. And why isn't that best? Right here is the point of myadherence to Douglas. For I see a growing central power in this countrynot acting on its lawful authority, but upon its own will, dictated bytheories of morality or trade or monopoly. If this matter is left to theterritories it is left to the source of sovereign power and to localinterests; if it is controlled by Congress it means an increasingcentralization. What I really mean is that this mere assumption thatCongress can deal with the matter in virtue of some vague sovereignty, without pointing out some express power in Congress to do so, leadsstraight to imperialism. And thus on the whole, having a regard for thefuture of America and its liberty, I stand with Douglas. I have readWebster in his theories that the territories are property, and cantherefore be dealt with under the clause which empowers Congress to makeall needful laws and regulations for the territory and other property ofthe United States. Well, why doesn't he go farther and let Congress atone stroke emancipate the slaves? For a slave is certainly property, andif needful rules and regulations as to the negro require hisemancipation, why can't he be emancipated under this clause? But ifterritory is property, so is a slave. And if territory is property, whoowns the property? Why, all the states of course. And if they own theland and own the slaves too, why can't they take into their own land, unless they are forbidden to do so by a majority of the states, representatives legislating under some clause of the Constitution whichgives them the right to do so?"

"Oh, yes, " said Reverdy, "I have heard most of this before. But I'lltell you: the first man of account who rises up to say that slavery iswrong will be remembered, even if he is not honored. I am not talkingabout all these agitators and fellows; nor even of Seward or ofHale--they're too sharp and smart. I mean some man who puts the rightfeeling into the thing like Mrs. Stowe did in her book. You see, I wasraised in Tennessee, and I don't care how you apologize for it, or makeit look like labor of other kinds, or prove that all labor is slavery, just the same this negro slavery is vile. You can find good reasons foranything you want to do. I don't know where we get our right andwrong--it comes up from something deep in us. But when we get it, allthis argument that Douglas is so skillful in simply melts away. I reallywonder that so many women in the South favor slavery and that my motherwas so wedded to it, and Dorothy now. "

We were passing now the house I had built. "Who lives there now?" Iasked. Reverdy gave me the name. It was not the man to whom I had soldthe farm. I thought of Fortescue. "Where is Fortescue?" "Oh, he lit outfrom here, " said Reverdy. "Do you know, " I said, "I have thought itpossible that Zoe might not be dead. " "How could that be?" "I don'tknow. I feel that I went through that transaction dazed and withoutverifying things, as I should have done. " "Oh, no, if Zoe were livingyou would know of it long before now. "

After our drive we came back to Sarah and the meal that she had preparedfor us. Women reflect the politics of the hour in nerves and anxiety, inanticipated sorrows. Sarah wished all agitations to stop. She longed forpeace. She was in dread of war. Perhaps Dorothy's health had beenaffected by the growing turbulence of the country. 

Young Amos and Jonas came in and ate with us. We turned to the talk ofrailroads and the growth of Chicago. Sarah took a hand now and said:"These things are all right. You won't get any war out of railroads andtelegraphs. You men can reason and argue as much as you please aboutthis slavery matter; but I have two sons, and I didn't bring them intothe world to be killed in a war; and I won't have it if I can helpit--not for all the niggers in the world. "

CHAPTER XLVIII

If I were recording the life of an artist I should be dealing withdifferent causes acting upon his development, or with different effectsproduced by the same times in which Douglas lived. Instead I am tryingto set forth the soul of a great man who extracted from his environmentother things than beauty; or rather the beauty of national progress. Thequestion was, after all, whether Douglas was helping to give America asoul. What was he accomplishing for the real greatness of his country bygiving it territory and railroads? What kind of a soul was he giving it?Who in this time was giving America a soul? Abigail had often hinted atthese questions. And I had to confess that they occupied my thoughts. 

I run over now with as much brevity as possible the events which led tothe crisis of Douglas' life. With the Compromises of 1850 the Whig partybegan its rapid decline. The South did not like the Whig tariff. TheWhig attitude on the slavery question was too ambiguous to appeal to theNorth. With its dissolution other organizations began to feed on itsremains. The Know-nothings arose and disappeared, without accomplishinganything. Greeley said of them that they were "as devoid of the elementsof persistence as an anti-cholera or anti-potatobug party would be. "

In early 1854 the Whigs, Free Soilers and Anti-Slavery Democrats met atRipon, Wisconsin, and proposed to form a new party, to be called theRepublican party. They took part of the name which Jefferson had coined, dropping the word "national" out. Douglas, enraged by this blasphemyagainst Jefferson, suggested that the word "black" be put in where"national" had been left out, making the name Black Republican party. 

A year later Douglas put through his bill for the organization of Kansasand Nebraska, which provided that they could come into the Union with orwithout slavery as they chose. He had long before voted against slaveryprohibition in Texas; for the extension of the Missouri Compromise tothe Pacific; for the Compromises of 1850, which made California free andleft Utah and New Mexico to come in free or slave, according to theirown wish. I had to confess that he had no clear constitutional theoryhimself. He was only growing more emphatic in favor of popularsovereignty as a name for territorial independence on the subject. Hecompared this popular sovereignty to the rights which the Coloniesasserted against England to manage their own affairs, and for theviolation of which the Revolution ensued. The principle had appeared inmost of the bills that he had sponsored or supported. Now it was thereal doctrine. He was like an inventor who, after making manyexperiments, hits upon a working device. He was like a philosopher, whoconceives the theory, then clears it, shears away its accidents or evenabandons it. He had long been distrusted in the South. TheKansas-Nebraska bill still further alienated the South. The South wantedslavery carried into the territories by the Constitution, even againstthe will of the people of the territories. What had Douglas to gain withpopular sovereignty? He really overestimated its appeal. He knew thatthe South did not like it, but he believed that it was sound, and thatit would win the majority of the people. He advanced it not only as asolution of a vexed condition, but in the name of Liberty. 

He misconceived the case, and here his tragedy began to flourish. I wassorry to witness his discomfiture and his first forensic defeat. Clergymen denounced him; and thinking no doubt that they were thespokesmen of the back-hall radicalism and ignorant morality which hedespised, he fought them back bitterly: "You who desecrate the pulpit tothe miserable influence of party politics! Is slavery the only wrong inthe country? If so, why not recognize the great principles ofself-government and state equality as curatives?"

He was burned in effigy and branded a traitor, a Judas, a BenedictArnold. The whole mob power was used against him. But he was Herculesfurious. He was against the wall, but unrepentant. He came to Chicagoand announced that he would speak in front of the North Market Hall. Itwas September, and still lovely summer weather. I could not induceDorothy to go, so Mr. Williams, Abigail, Aldington, and I went to hearDouglas defend himself. All the afternoon before this evening bells weretolled, flags were hung at half-mast. I got to Douglas, telling him thatI feared violence to his person. He waved me off. His brow was heavywith scowls, his eyes deep with emotion. He was like a man ready tofight and die. Finally the hour arrived, and he mounted the platformintrepidly, amid hisses and howls. He paused to let the tumult die. Hebegan again. He was hooted. He stepped forward undaunted, and let forththe full power of his voice:

"I come to tell you that an alliance has been made of abolitionism, Maine liquor-lawism, and what there was left of northern Whiggism, andthen the Protestant feeling against the Catholic, and the native feelingagainst the foreigner. All these elements were melted down in onecrucible, and the result is Black Republicanism. "

A voice called out: "You're drunk!" Bedlam broke loose. In a silenceDouglas retorted: "Let a sober man say that. " There were cheers. He wenton:

"How do you dare to yell for negro freedom and then deny me the freedomof speech? I claim to be a man of practical judgment. I do not seek theunattainable. I am not for Utopias. "

"Topers!" said a voice, and there were yells. 

"Nor for topers, " resumed Douglas. 

"I want results. What have you done with prohibition of slavery in theNorth by Federal law? You who want negro equality, why don't you repealthe laws of Illinois that forbid the intermarriage of white and blacks, that forbid a negro from testifying against a white man, that allowindentures of apprenticeship, and that require registration of negroesbrought into the state, the same as you license a dog? The Federalgovernment does not prevent you. The Ordinance of 1787 gave you thestart that you want for Kansas and Nebraska. Yet you have these things;and you don't have slavery. Why? Not because the Federal government saysyou can't have it, but because you yourself do not want it. I say thatthis northern country is dedicated by God to freedom, law or no law; ifit hadn't been, General Harrison, who introduced slavery into Indianaagainst the Ordinance of 1787 would have introduced something that wouldbe there now. So much for you Whigs who voted for Harrison in 1840. "

A voice:

"How about Kansas and Nebraska?" There were more yells. "I am tellingyou, if you will hear me. You old Whigs who followed Henry Clay to theend, why do you denounce me when the Kansas-Nebraska bill is the same inprinciple as Clay's Compromises of 1850 ... "

"How about California?"

"It was a compromise. And as I have said before if the people ofCalifornia had wanted a slave state they would have had it, any law tothe ... "

Voices crying: "Benedict Arnold! Judas!" Douglas' voice rose to itsfullest power. He was fulminating Black Republicans, Know-nothings, Anti-Catholics, humbug Whigs. I felt sure that he would be attacked. Fortwo hours he fought with this wild and wicked audience. He appealed totheir sense of fairness. If he was wrong, what harm to hear him through, the better to see the wrong? If he was right, why condemn him unheard? Icould only make out a few sentences from time to time. He grew weary atlast. He drew out his watch. The audience quieted to hear what he wouldsay. "It is now Sunday morning. I will go to church and you may go tohell. "

He stepped from the platform, walked boldly through the angry mob, readyto assault him. Without a tremor, fearlessly he edged his way along tohis carriage, got into it, and was driven away, the mob hooting, bolderrowdies running after him, and covering him with vile epithets. 

We walked away slowly without speaking to each other. We were tooshamed, too sympathetic with Douglas to tolerate this exhibition oflawlessness. We were disgraced by an American audience which had triedto disgrace an American Senator, who asked for nothing except for theprivilege of being heard. 

When we arrived at Clark and Randolph streets Aldington and Abigailpaused for a moment before turning in a direction different from mine. They said good night and went on. I walked with Mr. Williams until Iarrived at my house. Then I went in, to lie awake and to think of thespectacle of the evening. 

CHAPTER XLIX

The next day I went out to look at the ten acres which Douglas had givenfor the founding of the University of Chicago. I walked over the ground, came to the lake. I was thinking that if Douglas' life were ending infailure how futile was my own life! I was rich to be sure, but what hadI done? I had inherited money. Douglas had started in poverty andaccumulated a fortune. I had done nothing but increase my wealth. Douglas' activities had covered many fields, and now if he was to fall!What was American liberty? How could their devotion to a liberty, bringliberty to him? Douglas' wife was dead; Dorothy was an invalid. 

In a few days I went around to see Abigail. That terrible eveningremained a subject that must sometime be discussed between us. 

Abigail was never more gracious than on this occasion, and seemed tounderstand that I needed to be lifted out of my reflections. She knewwhat Dorothy's invalidism meant to me, and she was sympathetic with mydevotion to Douglas, in so far as it was an expression of humanfriendship. She had a point of view about everything, which had beendeveloped and clarified by reading and travel. It came over me that Ihad been nowhere in Europe, that I had been wandering up and downAmerica. My life in England was by now almost obliterated from myconsciousness. We were not long in the talk before she said that a manshould have more than one interest, that music or some form of art, or ahobby in literature should be taken up as a relaxation from business. What were politics but the interpretation of business? She showed mesome pictures she had been painting. A teacher had opened a studio inLake Street. Why did I not try my hand? I would find it a diversion fromother things. I had always loved etchings. I wished I could do that. Well, this artist taught etching too. She inspired me at once to seehim. His name was Stoddard, and she gave me the number. I conceived anenthusiasm for this new activity, thinking that it would take me out ofmyself and away from the America that was closing around me with suchdepressing effect. 

Then Abigail and Aldington in supplement of each other began to recallthe names of men then living whom they characterized as light-bearers. "Really, " said Abigail, "there are only a few men of real importance inAmerica to-day. These politicians and orators--Seward, Sumner, even thelate Webster--amount to very little after all. They are even less thanLowell, whom Margaret Fuller recently characterized as shallow anddoomed to oblivion. Longfellow is an adapter, a translator, asimple-hearted man. Whittier--well, all of them have fallen more orless under the moralistic influence of the country. "

"That is what I like about Douglas, " I said. "He is not a humbug. I likehis ironical voice against all these silly movements, like liquor laws;these ideas like God in the little affairs of men; all this barbarismwhich breaks into religious manias; all these half-baked reformations. They carry me with him into an opposition to negro equality--all thisstuff of Horace Greeley, Emerson, and in which men like Seward andSumner, and American writers and poets, big and little, share. "

"Oh, yes, " said Abigail, "but after all you can say Douglas is just apolitician. You do not need to grieve about him. He is tough enough tostand anything. He was put down by that mob. But I dare say he was notas much disturbed about it as you were. If he should die to-day whatwould the world lose? He has no great unfinished books, no half-paintedpictures, no musical scores without the final touches. Look over theworld, my friend. Do you realize who is living in it to-day? In Russia, Tolstoi and Turgenieff; in Germany, Schopenhauer, Freytag, Liszt, Wagner--Wagner is just Douglas' age too. In France, Hugo, George Sand, Renan, Berlioz, Bizet. In England, Tennyson, Macaulay. These are only afew. What has Douglas written or said that will live? What has he donethat will carry an influence to a future day? I want to see you liftyourself out of this. Frankly, you seem to me like a man who has nevercome to himself. You have lived here in Illinois since you were a boy. You found work to do, and you did it. You wanted to be rich, you havehad your wish. But the material you have handled has become you. It hasentered the pores of your being, and become assimilated with its flesh. You have gone on oblivious of this greater world. There is anotherthing, and I have never known this to fail: you were a soldier in theMexican War, and the causes for which it was fought have burnedthemselves into your nature. You are like a piece of clay molded andlettered and shoved into the hot oven of war. You came forth with YoungAmerica, Expansion burned into you. Douglas, being your close friend, and being for these things, gave interpretations to these words. Yourglaze took the reflection of his face; and these words became otherwords of like import, or imaginatively enlarged by the lights which hiswinning art cast upon them. Give Douglas wit, humor, and he would carrythe whole country. For it runs after greatness of territory, railroads, the equality of man, the superiority of the white race. As dull as themob is it knows that Douglas does not stand for its morality and itsGod. If he had wit he could make them laugh and forget the distance thatdivides him from them. We all understand why he has enemies; why therevolutionaries from Germany, Hungary, Austria, divide in doubt overhim. But what has he to carry against them that will be a loss to theworld, if he fails?" I felt a little apologetic for my devotion toDouglas as Abigail talked. Had I made a god of a poor piece of clay?No, it was not true. I knew him, I believed in him. He was the clearestvoice in all this rising absurdity of American life. But Abigail hadgiven me one idea that I wished to act upon. 

I went the next day to see Stoddard and started to learn etching. If Icould only transfer to the copper plate what I had seen of sand hills, pines, pools of water, the gulls over the lake, the picturesque shacksof early Chicago of 1833 and 1840; the old wooden drawbridge, which wasover the river in 1834, with the ships beyond it toward the lake and thelighthouse, and in the forefront canoes on the shore, covered withrushes and sand grass. After a few days I saw Douglas. He came on anevening when I was just about to go to him. I had been thinking of himday by day, but waiting for the effect of his rough experience in frontof the North Market to wear away from his thoughts and mine. He was nowhimself again, his eye keen, his voice melodious, his figure pervaded byanimation. I noticed perhaps for the first time how small and gracefulwere his hands. The greatness and shapeliness of his head could not beoverlooked. From beneath shaggy and questioning brows his penetratingeyes looked straight through me. Had his pride been wounded, his spiritsdampened? Not at all. He was willing to face any audience anywhere. Hehad told the South unpleasant truths. He had satirized the groups thatwent to the making of the Republican party. "I have a creed, " he said, "as broad as the continent. I can preach it boldly, and without apologyNorth or South, East or West. I can face Toombs or Davis, if they preachsectional strife, or advocate disunion. I can continue to point out thenarrow faith of Sumner and Seward. I shall not abate my contempt for theragged insurrectionists who are going about the country for lack ofbetter business, scattering dissension. Am I to be President? There istrouble now in Kansas and Nebraska. Can I help that? I have stood forthe right of the people there to have slavery or not as they chose. Butif any trick is played on either of them, whether in favor of slavery oragainst it, they will find me on the spot ready to fight for an honestdeal. "

Seeing Douglas in all his strength and self-confidence again I washappy. We talked of the old days and drank from the old bottle. I tookhim to the door, followed his retreating figure down the street, soshort but so massive. Then I went to Dorothy, to find her sleepless andunhappy. 

CHAPTER L

No way to mark time quicker than by Presidentials. Four years pass inthe space of two or less; for no sooner is a President installed thancommittees meet for reformations and plans. Six months between theelection and the installation of a President! When he has served a yearthe election is nearly two years passed. Thus, as it seemed, theelection of 1856 was upon the country before we had time to appreciatewhat Mr. Pierce had done. Had he had a fair chance in such a briefperiod to do anything? I was at work attending to my business, trying toetch too, but I could not keep my mind off the game of politics. Amongthe tens of thousands of men in Illinois who were devoted to Douglas noone was more loyal to his ambition than I, and perhaps no one was lessconspicuous. I followed the _New York Tribune_, the _SpringfieldRepublican_, the _North American Review_, the _Independent, Harper'sWeekly_, and the southern press, as well as the papers of Illinois. Ihad made a large book of clippings, which expressed the journalisticthought of the country. All these things put together kept me fullyoccupied. Our son Reverdy was coming to an age when his schooling wouldneed attention. I wished to send him to England. But that was difficultto do, because, while Dorothy was urging a trip abroad she wished to goto Italy, on account of the climate. 

In truth Dorothy was growing more distressed every day over Americanaffairs. She found harshness in Chicago. She did not find sympathy withthe ideas with which she had grown up. Her failure to make close friendsinterfered with her social delights. Mrs. Douglas had perhaps been hergreatest intimate. With her death she had seemed to lose interest inother cordial associations. Her nervous organization was badlydevitalized. I, too, hoped to see the continent, and particularly Italy. But I did not wish to leave until the campaign was over, owing to myinterest in Douglas. I wanted to watch affairs now, but also I wished tohelp Douglas, if I could. 

For the first time the Republicans entered the field. They adopted aplatform which incorporated the Declaration of Independence. It wasagainst popular sovereignty, lest the people vote in slavery, or betricked into doing so. It stood for Congressional control of slaveryextension, and implicit in this was the constitutional power of Congressto do so. It had, with the Declaration of Independence, with theinvocation of God, and appeals to the Bible, gathered a working force inthe country. The press, the platform, had been busy to this end. Sewardwith his higher law was a contributor. Chase, who was termed by Douglasa debater, where Seward and Sumner were only essayists, was one of thebig figures in the new movement. Beecher and Greeley were spokesmen ofthe new organization. The convention nominated Fremont who had exploredOregon in 1842. 

He was of the spirit of Douglas. He was an expansionist. He had goneinto California in 1845, and raised the American flag on a mountainoverlooking Monterey. He had helped later to conquer California. He hadfor various audacious and disobedient acts been tried andcourt-martialed, and dismissed from military service. President Polk hadapproved the verdict, but remitted the penalty. Then he had resigned. Now he was the object of the highest honor of an American convention. Hewas made the spokesman for a platform which denounced the invasion ofKansas by an armed force in the interests of slavery. He had gone intoCalifornia for the slavocracy which engineered the Mexican War, as NewEngland contended. Now he was at the head of the party waging war uponthat slavocracy. A strange people, these Americans!

Douglas had said that he did not want the office of President. Perhapsthat was an exhibition of political coyness, for he was in the listsjust the same! He had 33 votes on the first ballot, of which only 14came from the South. President Pierce, who was running again, met awavering fortune. On the sixteenth ballot he had not a vote. Douglas had121 votes; a certain Mr. Buchanan had 168. On the seventeenth ballotthis Mr. Buchanan was nominated. Who was this Mr. Buchanan?

He had been Secretary of State under Polk, had helped to secure theTexan territory. So much for the appeal to Young America. He had beenminister to Great Britain. Therefore he was abroad when Douglas wasgummed with the poisonous sweet of Kansas and Nebraska. He thoughtslavery was wrong; therefore, you Abolitionists, here's the man for you. He held that territorial extension of slavery need not be feared; letthe people rule. As a Congressman he had voted to exclude abolitionliterature from the mails; come forward Calhoun-ites and vote forBuchanan. They did. Fremont did not get a vote in North Carolina, SouthCarolina, Georgia, Alabama, Florida, Mississippi, Texas, Arkansas, Missouri, Tennessee; and only 281 in Maryland, 291 in Virginia, and 364in Kentucky. But Millard Fillmore, running on a platform of America forAmericans, almost divided the vote with Buchanan in those states. Hecarried Maryland against Buchanan; but of the whole popular vote he wasnearly a million behind Buchanan. Fremont had 1, 341, 264 votes andBuchanan had 1, 838, 169 votes. The electoral college gave Buchanan 174votes, Fremont 114, and Fillmore 8. Why could Douglas not have beennominated?

We got the news by telegraph in Chicago. As I studied the bulletins, Iwas wondering whether the result was symptomatic of transient causes orwhether it betokened great changes. Had the Declaration of Independencebeen approved at the polls? How was Douglas taking it? I did not seehim. I wrote to him, but he did not reply. Did he get my letter, or washe consoling himself in convivial ways?

I now prepared to go abroad. I was leaving a country that had changed inalmost every way since I had come to it. I was leaving a city that wasnothing but a hamlet when I first saw it. I had seen New Orleans andChicago connected by rail, and the state grow from a few hundredthousand to a million population. I had seen Arkansas, Florida, Michigan, Iowa, Texas, Wisconsin, California, added to the Union. Coaland iron had become barons and were doing the bidding of steam, whichwas king. The oil that had floated on the surface of the salt wells ofKentucky was soon to be more powerful than cotton. Everything hadchanged--but man. Was he rising to a purer height, had a glory begun todawn on America? Should slavery, polygamy, rum, be driven from the land?Then should we be free and happy, and just and noble? France had gotschools and the ballot by the Revolution, but now she had a throneagain. We had the ballot but did we have freedom? No law could have madea mob hiss Douglas at the North Market. Freedom in their hearts wouldhave given him an audience. 

Was I free? Was I happy? I was not free. I was not happy. My life seemedcribbed. Dorothy was an invalid. I went to her from watching theelection bulletins. I sat on the side of the bed, took her in my arms. "Let us go to Italy, " she said. "I am dying here. " She pressed her frailhands around my neck. "Oh let us go--let us go. "

CHAPTER LI

We sailed on the _Persia_, 376 feet long, 45 feet of beam, gross tonnage3300, horsepower 4000, speed 14 knots an hour. As Dorothy knew nothingof ocean sailing craft she was unable to share in my wonder at all thesplendor and comfort of this wonderful steamer. 

From the first Dorothy was ill. Our boy Reverdy too became seasick. As Iwas not affected in the least I had the care of both of them. A part ofthe time the sea was very rough. 

One night when we had been on the water three days Dorothy called to me. She had been greatly nauseated during the afternoon. A sudden return ofthe discomfort had seized her. I arose quickly and made a light. Theboat was rocking. A stiff breeze was blowing. We were headed through agreat darkness. Dorothy was deathly pale. She was unable to bring upanything more and was convulsed with retching and coughing. 

She grew suddenly quiet, her eyes closing, her lips parting. "Dear, " shemurmured. I waited for what she would say. She had become at once limpin my arms. I shook her gently, pressed my ear to her breast. I couldhear no heart beat. I called her, laid her down, wetted a towel, andapplied it to her head. She did not rouse. I went from the stateroom tofind the physician. He came hurriedly. But Dorothy was dead. That wordof endearment was her last. 

Without, the sea and the sky were as black as a sunless cave. The waterrolled around us, pitching the boat forward and sideways. The timberscreaked, lamps jiggled, the hallways seemed to undulate like snakes. Butthe heart of the _Persia_ pumped with rhythmic regularity. Thepassengers were asleep, or in various festivities, in cabins or in thedining room. Nothing was stayed for this tragedy which had come to me. On we went through the darkness! Dorothy was lying where I had placedher, her head turned to one side, her face pale in the last sleep. Iaroused little Reverdy. He looked at his mother, kneeled by the berth, and sobbed. The physician took us out of the cabin, locked the door, andput us in another. I tucked little Reverdy in bed again; then I went outto look, at the storm, the dark water, the impenetrable sky. 

Back of me was America, flattened out like a map in my imagination, lostand sunk like old Atlantis. I sent my mind across it from New York toChicago, from Chicago to California. What was it? Earth, a continentcontaining an embattled and disappointed Douglas, millions of strugglingpeople. Ahead of me, over thousands of miles of water, an unknown Italy. I lived over all my life, but mostly now all my life with Dorothy, fromthose first days in Jacksonville when I was under a cloud because ofZoe and the killing of Lamborn, to our days in Nashville; the ecstasyof first love, our walks and restings among the Cumberland hills, thekindness of Mother Clayton, her joy when she learned that Dorothy hadconsented to become my wife. I saw again the face of Jackson, his eyes, his reverence when he kissed the brow of Dorothy; his tears and hisfeeble step when he walked away from us. And I lived over early Chicago, all my days with Douglas. Where was he now on that flattened, negligiblemap called America? In what soil had Zoe moldered into the earth? Whathad become of Fortescue? Where were Abigail and Aldington, Reverdy, Sarah, this night? How could the millions storming over slavery and war, territories, sugar and cotton and iron, gold and railways think of thesethings if they were face to face with a reality as stark as I was, in aboat rolled by dark water, tossing forward toward Europe and with aburden like the dead body of Dorothy? All this night I walked the deck. I saw the dawn come up, ragged and blue, patched with dark clouds, whichthe wind drove close to the mounting waves. 

The captain ordered an autopsy. Dorothy had died of heart failure. Thenthere was to be a burial at sea. In the afternoon the clouds lifted fromthe sky. Toward the west the sun burned over the water, making a wake offire from the boat to the utmost horizon. I took a last look at Dorothy, kissed her cold brow. Then she was wrapped with sheets on a plankweighted with iron, and taken to the stern of the boat. I stood near tosee it all, with little Reverdy weeping as if his heart would break. 

The body is cast into the water, and in the very golden wake of the sun. I cannot hear the splash; I only see a slight flap of the sheet. Thewater closes over instantly. A gull frightened into a slight veering offturns to the spot where Dorothy has disappeared. No ripples to mark theplace where she has been received by the sea! The boat has gone onwithout staying. I keep my eyes fixed on the place. Waves cross andrecross over it. The sunlight shifts. Tears and the sun blind my eyes. Irest them a moment and then look again. Where was it that Dorothy sank?What great fish started at the splash, the white apparition; and thenreturned to nibble? To what depths has Dorothy sunk? To what darkerwaters has she been towed by some creature of prey? The sailors havegone to their other duties. Little Reverdy is by my side, weepingsoftly. I must write to the older Reverdy back in Jacksonville. He isher only relation in the world. To-night I must sleep, if I can. 

But I do not sleep. I wonder if I have been a good husband to Dorothy. What was she doing, how living, in the years past, when I was absorbedin business, following the fortunes of Douglas, studying the books thathad no bearing upon her happiness nor, alas, upon mine? I saw her now aspatient, sometimes alone, perhaps always waiting for me, but nevercomplaining. How many happy hours had I sacrificed to other things whenI might have been with her! Was Dorothy happy? Did she love me? I beganto think over the occasions of her demonstrations of affection--afterall how few they were! Always tender toward me, but how infrequentlywere there moments of passion, of ecstasy. Had I awakened all of hernature? Had I been living a neutral life all these years? Was I in somesort a negligible character, without magnetism, of unfulfilled passion?A slumbering nature?

But where now was Dorothy's body? We were fifty miles, seventy-fivemiles, a hundred miles from the unmarked spot of burial. She had sunkfathoms into the abyss. The bell on the boat had rung the midnight, thenone o'clock. I heard it toll for two--then I slept. I awoke hearinglittle Reverdy sobbing. I stood out of the berth and tried to comforthim. Then we dressed and went to breakfast. Whatever happens there mustbe coffee and toast. Then I walked the deck and longed for land. 

We changed boats at Cherbourg. Then a dreary voyage to Naples. Wehurried through the noise and colorful disorder of Naples and drove bycarriage to Rome. We entered the same gate through which Milton andGoethe had passed, into the Piazza di Spagna. At the foot of the stepsleading to Trinita di Monti--here where the foreigners stayed, theEnglish quarter. I found accommodations in a pension. First there wasthe unpacking, and little Reverdy had to be kept comforted, if possible;I must start him in school too. Life must always go on. I becamesensible of many bells. The strange noises of a civilization whollyunknown to me came up through my window. I looked out upon the Piazza diSpagna, knowing nothing of its history. Who would be my friends here?Back of me was nearly a quarter of a century in America and before mewhat?

CHAPTER LII

Our pension was all that could be desired. Mr. And Mrs. Winchell werehere from America, from Connecticut. She was about twenty-seven; he wasnearly sixty. They were on their way around the world, stopping in Romefor some months. She was studying painting under an artist who alsotaught etching. In this way I came under the instruction of Luca, whohad a studio not far from the Piazza di Spagna, and also into dailyassociation with Mrs. Winchell. 

First little Reverdy had to be placed in school and given a tutor. Before doing this I took him around the city, and we saw together someof the churches: S. Maria del Popolo, S. Giovanna dei Laterano, S. Angelo, S. Paolo. I took him to the Pantheon, the Coliseum, to St. Peter's, into the Vatican. Thus I gained my first impressions; and onthese rounds I found the courier Serafino Maletesta, who became a sourceof so much interest and delight to me. 

My mornings were spent in Luca's studio; my afternoons in sightseeingwith Serafino, in which Mr. And Mrs. Winchell joined, thoughinfrequently by him. He was ageing and not well. And often from thebeginning Mrs. Winchell and I set off together with Serafino to exploremuseums, visit the Palatine, drive to the edge of the city where theAlban hills were plainer across the Campagna, as level as a prairiearound Jacksonville. 

I was struggling with Italian, carrying on such conversation as I couldwith Serafino, and with Mrs. Winchell, who was growing proficient in thelanguage. 

Serafino was something past sixty. He had been with the Carbonari of1820, and in the Italian revolution of 1830-31. He saw this suppressed. Then when the republican movements of 1848 shook Europe, he hadparticipated in the third Italian revolution of that year; and again hehad seen Italy put down, this time by the intervention of the French, whose Louis Napoleon sought by this action to win the friendship of theCatholic clergy in France. The hated Austrians now ruled Lombardy andVenice. In Rome, now that the Pope again had temporal, power, thepolitical affairs of the city were in the hands of Cardinal Antonelli, who suppressed political agitation with great severity. It was not onlyan American audience before North Market Hall in Clark Street, Chicago, that denied the freedom of speech. Cardinals were up to the same thing, as well as mobs. 

Serafino told me calmly, with occasional profanity, of the arrest oflarge numbers of Italians who belonged to the Unita Italiana at Naples, whose condemnation was speedily followed by hideous dungeons andatrocious cruelties. There was slavery in Italy too!

Italy was under the heel of Austria. Religious bigotry, more subtle andmore powerful than the slavocracy of America, was crushing hope from thelives of the Italians, while Mazzini and Cavour battled like Titansagainst the powerful hierarchy of monarchy and Catholicism. There waslittle of the history of Italy, of ancient Rome, that was seeminglyunknown to Serafino. He had read all his life; and he had been in theactual conflicts of awakening Italy. Now his head shook a little whenhis face reddened from suppressed wrath. He cursed quietly, but with aterrible energy. He was poor; but there was a refinement in his personalappearance. His worn shoes were always polished, his coat and trousersof many years service were always brushed. He would appear at theappointed hour, bright of eye, cleanly shaven, and always with wonderfulsuggestions for sightseeing for the afternoon. He lived somewhere nearthe Forum. Having never married he was continuing a friendship formedlong ago with a woman who kept house for him and lived with him. As hewas no longer fitted for a battle or strife he was now an adviser toyounger men. He was no doubt suspected but he seemed to have no fear. Aswe went about among priests and soldiers he smiled and spoke to them. 

He knew them of old and a certain security seemed to be his. His twointerests were politics and art, but art had won him almost completely. What he knew of history and of art, his life-long residence in Rome madehim the most interesting of couriers. 

Our conversations widened and deepened day by day. Had he heard ofDouglas? No. He had read _Uncle Tom's Cabin_. What did I know of Mrs. Stowe? I ran over the list of our notables. They meant nothing to him. State sovereignty, popular sovereignty, the Missouri Compromise, theCompromises of 1850, the Kansas-Nebraska act were words withoutsignificance. But there was negro slavery. "How can that be in yourcountry?" he asked, and laughed ironically. "If all men are created freeand equal how about the negro?" he asked. 

I went on to tell Serafino, that Thomas Jefferson, when drafting theDeclaration of Independence, had condemned George III who had forbiddenthe American Colonies "to prohibit or restrain this execrable commerce";but that the clause was stricken out by South Carolina and Georgia. Therefore that the Declaration did not mean negroes when it said "allmen. " Serafino looked at me with quiet, comprehending eyes which said:"It's the same struggle of money and power everywhere. " He added aloud:"Italy will never eat free bread and have enough of it until theAustrian is driven off our back. They make us work and take away ourlabor in taxes. We are negroes too. "

He wanted to know something of Garrison, of whom he had heard. What wasthought of Washington in America? But in the midst of these subjects hewould stop to point to a broken column, a ruined temple; or he wouldturn suddenly into an old church to show me some beloved picture. Afterall, the old life of street brawls, debates, and dungeons had faded outof him with the dying of the rebellious fires of youth. There were onlyechoes of these thunderous events in his soul. His eye only brightenedfully before a picture or a statue. His reverence arose only to someperfection of color or of form. 

Once he took me by a quick turn, as if by impulse, into an old church. "There is a lovely Madonna here, " he said. "Who painted it?" "Some pupilof Raphael's perhaps. " Serafino removed his hat and stood reverentlybefore this beautiful face, so human, so tender. "I have heard you sayso much against the Church, the Papacy--I thought you were not in theChurch, " I said. "No, I am an atheist, " replied Serafino. "But what hasthat to do with this? Look at those eyes, those lips. In '48, when mysoul was torn, I used to come in here every day just for the consolationof that face. And now I come for the memory and the peace it brings me. "Slow tears were on the lower lids of his eyes. With a rough hand hebrushed them away, then asked me: "What do you think?" "I love thatface, " I replied. "I understand how you feel. "

A friendship grew up between Serafino and me. He was not a perfunctoryguide. He never grew tired. When five o'clock would come and the day wasreally ended I would say: "Well I must be back now. Little Reverdy iscoming over for an early dinner. " "Ah, but just this one picture, " hewould say, "it will only take a few minutes. I want you to see this. Itis a great work and something may happen. I may forget to bring youagain. " Then we would walk in and out of the cold and gloom of thechurch after having stared the picture into vividness. 

During my morning work my friendship with Mrs. Winchell ripened rapidly. We had an excellent start in the circumstance that we were Americans. Weknew of cities, of some people in common. Abigail had come fromConnecticut and that, in a sense, laid a foundation for ourconversations. We were working together, she with painting, I withdrawing and etching. We criticized and suggested concerning each other'swork. Or we put down our brushes and pencils and talked of life. In thisway at last she knew of my going to America as a youth of eighteen, ofthe farm, of Zoe, of my marriage, my life in Chicago, my long friendshipwith Douglas, and lastly of Dorothy's death at sea. Her eyes would lookintently into mine. And when I told her that I considered my lifepractically wasted she said: "Do you know every one's life is wasted;nearly every one. Few find their work and pursue it. Most of us aredrawn aside, or tripped, or blinded. Your friend Douglas seems to me tohave had a wasted life. As you tell me all this I see you as a man oftremendous will drawn into an accidental path, not his real path. Youare an artist at heart. I don't mean that you will ever be a greatetcher, though one cannot tell; I mean that all this turbulence, sordidness, American hurry, waste, vulgarity, agitation, politics, didnot belong to you. But what right have I to talk? My life is a wastetoo. "

Little by little I learned from her what her life had been, what itscentral impulse was. She was a poor girl who hungered for opportunity. She had looked with critical eyes upon marriageable men. I wondered ifshe had been attractive to many men, if many had had the discernment tosee what she was. If a young woman marries an elderly man of wealth itis probable that no young man of wealth has come to her at the favorablehour; and probable, too, that no man of merely compelling magnetism hasbeen interested in her. Mr. Winchell was kindly, a noble nature; he gaveher a tender, but only a paternal love. But through him she hadtraveled; she had had the beauty of life for which her heart wasinsatiable. There were no children; there never would be children, andwhat lavish, ecstatic affection she bestowed upon my Reverdy! So day byday I learned that she was a teacher in Connecticut when Mr. Winchellcame along, willing to give her everything if she would marry him. Hehad been rather a heavy drinker up to this time, now five years before;when he left off drink for awhile. Then he had begun again, but rarelyindulged to excess. It may be that drink had emasculated him before hemarried her; but now if because of this he tippled occasionally, he wasjustified in medicine which dulled feelings that he could not be ahusband to this radiant woman, who treated him always with suchtenderness and devotion, always honored him with such scrupulousattention. 

She wanted a child above all things. All of us remember some woman whomwe knew in youth who kept canaries, or raised flowers or had some queerlittle fad. We learn to know why women do this. In her case sheexpressed her mother's passion in studies, in art, in travel, infriendship, in kindness to every one; above all in devotion to herhusband. She mothered him in the most tender and beautiful way. In alittle while I knew all her story, as she did mine. 

Serafino came for me one morning at the studio. There was an old cafébeyond the walls near the Campagna where the food was wholly Italian andof the best. It was a wonderful place for the rest of the noonday meal, for a view of the Alban hills. The sun was warm, the sky was clear. Theintoxication of an Italian day was in the air. I wished so much to sharethe delight with someone. Mrs. Winchell was sitting near absorbed in herwork. But she had looked up and bowed to Serafino, whom she had seenwith me so frequently. I turned to her and asked: "Would you and Mr. Winchell like to join me?" "Let us go and ask him, " she replied. So weset off to the pension to invite Uncle Tom. That was the name she calledhim, and I had begun to use it myself. 

Uncle Tom had made the acquaintance of some men of his own age from NewYork. They had begun to patronize a café located beyond the AmericanEmbassy, where broiled chicken and fresh vegetables were a specialty andwhere the red wine was of the best. He had an engagement with thesecronies and was preparing to leave as we came in. He listened toIsabel's exclamations about the place to which Serafino wished to takeus. If she had been his daughter and I had been his son he could nothave sent us off together with a heartier laugh, a more undisturbedheart. "You two go, " he said. "You get along about pictures and scenery. I am going to Canape's, and play checkers this afternoon. I am too fatto run around like you young folks do. Go on and have a good time. "

And we ran down, following Serafino who had preceded us to engage acarriage. Off we drove, the wheels rattling over the stones, past theForum, past the Coliseum, in view of St. Peter's. Soon we entered adusty road. The houses were small now, broken and old. At last we drewup into an open space surrounded by little buildings: a blacksmith'sshop where the anvil was ringing, little bakeries, markets wherevegetables and bologna were vended. Ragged Italian children, gay andsoiled with healthy dirt, were playing in the dust, turning somersaults, chasing each other, laughing. Beyond us was the Campagna, the Albanhills. We climbed a rickety stairway to a platform or roof of stone. Aneager and obliging waiter brought us a table, spread it, put before usred wine. And Serafino, seeing these things done, disappeared, leavingIsabel and me to dine together under this clear sky with the green ofthe lovely plain spread out before us to the purples of the hills. 

How could I help but make comparisons between Isabel and Dorothy? I hadnever known any women but Dorothy and Abigail, Sarah, Mother Clayton. Ihad never come into romantic contact with any woman but Dorothy. Now Iwas advancing to this relationship with Isabel. I began to wonder if Ihad given Dorothy love. I had given her perfect loyalty. Was there aform of treason to Dorothy's memory in the fast beating of my heart herein the presence of Isabel, under this sky, in this charming place?Perhaps I had been starved too. Yet because of her personality, theradiant flame which was herself, the laughing and girlish genius whichwas in her, but above all the spiritual integrity which was hers, Istood in awe of her. But that awe was sufficiently explained by herdevotion to her husband. I saw in her eyes honor and truth, and thepeace of mind that sometimes comes with them, all the while that I feltthe blood surge around my heart and pulsate in my hands. There seemed tobe nothing now of which we could not speak. Her interest in childrenbetrayed itself in exclamations over the ragged little Italians playingin the court. I wondered if my heart had ever been profoundly stirred. Ihad married Dorothy. But suppose Zoe had not been in my life to haveoffended and alienated Dorothy's interest for a time, and thus to haveenergized this English will which was mine for conquest of the farm, forthe killing of Lamborn--for the continued pursuit of Dorothy? In suchcase had I married Dorothy? What would life have been to me if I had metIsabel when I first knew Dorothy? This woman of white flame talking ofart, of travel, of Rome, of religion, of beauty; giving way to girlishchuckles and laughter. Was she not closer to me, as temperate genius ofthe North, than Dorothy, out of the languor and the romanticism of theSouth? Was not Douglas closer to the North, which Isabel seemed to menow to symbolize, than to that South with which his fate had now so longbeen entangled?

A step is heard. The old stair creaks, and Serafino's head appears abovethe railing. We look up, aroused from our enchantment. The afternoonlights are slanting across the Campagna. It is time to go. I haveoverpaid the waiter. He honestly offers to rectify it. Isabel laughs, seeing that I am oblivious of such worldly things. That breaks thespell. And we drive back to Rome and our pension. 

CHAPTER LIII

I begin to wonder about my Reverdy. At the school I see him inassociation with English boys. He is not so strong as they, not sohandsome, not so alert and apt. Isabel has never had a child and wantsone with consuming passion. This boy is mine, but am I better off thanIsabel? My life grows clearer to me. I have receded from it and can seeit better. I can look out upon Rome and then close my eyes and recallChicago. I think of my long years of money making; then I turn toreflection upon art and life. I thrill in the presence of Isabel; then Iremember the mild but tender passion which Dorothy aroused in me. 

I thrill before Isabel, but I give my feelings no expression. There arelooks, no doubt, hesitations of speech, flutterings of the heart, thatshe may hear. But she is encompassed with flame that bars my way. I donot try to pass. We are all friends together, Isabel, Uncle Tom, and I. No plans are made which exclude Uncle Tom. Isabel and I have no secrets, no stealings away, no intimacies however slight, no quick withdrawalsupon the sound of his step. Everything is known to Uncle Tom. I hadimpulses to all clearness of conduct in the circumstance that Uncle Tomis so much my friend. He treats me like a father; he is always doinggenerous things for me. He is delighted to see Isabel go with me to achurch or a gallery, when he is too tired or too ill to accompany us, and that is often. 

And day by day Isabel was happier. She became a creature of glories, shining transparencies. We had books together, music together, our worktogether. We had the companionship of the morning and the evening meal, sacred rituals between beings who love each other. We had infinite talkstogether with Uncle Tom or alone, as it happened. If Uncle Tom saw ourexaltation, nevertheless he knew all that was between us. For it wasbeauty of life that Isabel and I shared, and who cannot know betweenwhom this secret exists, if he have eyes to see?

He knew I loved Isabel, if he had not forgotten all that moves in theblood of a man of forty-two. He knew that she loved me--at any rate insome quality of love. For Isabel used this word freely in the ecstasiesof her spirit, in the rapturous atmosphere of Italy. "I love James, Uncle Tom--not as I love you; but I really love him! How wonderful thathe should come to us. He is like my brother, but he is something more. He is a great friend. " Uncle Tom would smile benignantly upon thisradiant woman, whom he had married for her youthful vitality, for whichhe gave the happiness that comes of wealth. Perhaps in his ageingpsychology he did not know that there was passion in our hearts. Yet Ithink he was a great soul, wishing Isabel to have every happiness. Iknow he was my friend. There was nothing in him of the envy of Januarybecause of my younger years, nor reproof for the Maytime sunshine thatwas in the heart of Isabel. 

Isabel and I had been to the Vatican several times. Uncle Tom dislikedpictures; above all he dreaded the fatigue of walking and the cold ofthe churches and rooms where he was obliged to remove his hat. Oneafternoon Isabel proposed that we go again to the Vatican; there was aface there she wished to show me. We asked Uncle Tom to come with us;but this was one of the days when he did not feel strong enough foranything. He was keeping to his room. Perhaps later he would go toCanape's. "You two go along. You will get on without me. "

Isabel took me directly to the suite which was decorated by Pinturicchiofor Alexander VI. We looked at the Annunciation, the Nativity, the Magi, and the Resurrection. Somehow I was more moved by these paintings thanby anything I had yet seen in Rome. The soul of this painter tookpossession of me. Then recalling what Isabel had said I asked her:"Where is the face, Isabel, you wished to show me?" "There, " she said. "Turn around. " I did and saw a bronze bust on a pedestal. "That, youmean?" Isabel nodded. I walked closer to it. It was Pinturicchio. 

A deeper emotion than I had ever before felt before a work of art tookpossession of me. Such wisdom, benignity, genius! What a soul belongedto this man! I looked about to see if we were watched by guards. As wewere alone I put up my hands to caress this face, moved by some unknownimpulse. Touching the silken surface of the bronze my whole imaginativepower seemed to awake; my life spread out before me. I know not what itwas; memories of so many things; not least of all Isabel's presenceunderstanding what I felt. My eyes blinded; my shoulders shook a little. Isabel came to me and gently put her hand on my arm. We walked away. "Who was Pinturicchio?" I asked of Isabel. And she told me. I took aguide-book out of my pocket and began to read. "There is a story, " itsaid, "that Pinturicchio was starved by his wife during his lastillness. " I closed the book. After all had not Douglas been starved inthe finer part of his genius by the life to which he was wedded? Howwould his face look in bronze, ridged with reason and controversy; whatcould ever bring him out of the dust and noise of the levels where hewas battling, even to the plateaus to which poor Serafino had climbed?

After that I looked at everything of Pinturicchio's I could find inRome. We found his Coronation of the Virgin, his frescoes of St. Antonio. But Isabel, who had already been to the Villa d'Este with UncleTom, began now day by day to plan another excursion there. She had notgone up to Tivoli, nor seen the cataracts; we could do all of this in anafternoon if we did not stop to wander through Hadrian's Villa. Thistime Serafino went with us; but Uncle Tom was again indisposed, andlaughingly bade us to go on and leave him to an afternoon at Canape'swith his cronies. 

Serafino rode on the box with the driver, and that left Isabel and me tosomething like a privacy, as we drove by the quarries of travertinewhere the slaves of old Rome went blind and died hewing out the stonethat went to the building of the Coliseum and the theaters of Marcellusand Pompey. We passed the little stream whose waters were blue withsulphur, filling the air with its odor. The grasses and herbs weregreen; here and there an almond tree was in blossom. The dark cypressesof Hadrian's Villa stood like spires of thunder clouds against thewonderful azures of this uplifting sky. Before us were the mountains, pine-clad, vineyard-clad; and far up the gleam of a cascade shone like abent sword in the sun. 

Serafino took us through the room of the d'Este Palace telling thedriver to meet us at one of the entrances to the grounds. When weemerged and descended to the Hundred Fountains he turned away giving usthe directions to reach the carriage. He knew that this was a placewhere lovers would wish to dispense with a guide. 

We walked through the avenues of great cypress trees and came to thefarther end of the pools whose curbs were decorated with flowering urns. There we looked at the palace and listened to the song of the merles. Beside this all was silence, only the stir of the wind against the softstrings of the trees--the most melodious harp in the world! We climbedto an eminence, stood by an iron fence and gazed down upon the fisheriessurrounded by graceful bushes and trees. Then we found the Fontana dell'Ovato, and a seat before it. It was a semicircle of stone perforated byarches over which the water musically poured. Here we rested, listeningto the merles, the falling water, the whispering of the wind. Ghosts ofdead delight seemed to pass us; unseen presences of passionate gallantsand capricious loveliness, hungering hearts wounded by life, by beauty, by desire, spoke to us through the murmuring water, the stir of thewind, the intense silence when all sounds were turned away by theveering of the delicious air. 

And Uncle Tom was in Rome at Canape's drinking with his Americancronies! Only myself knew my starved heart, but surely he knew the heartof Isabel. What was the attitude of mind in allowing this freeassociation between Isabel and me? Does the heart of age becomedeadened? Does it understand; does it but partly divine these secrets;does it for any of these reasons cease to be sensitive?

Then suddenly, as Isabel and I sat there in these enchantingsurroundings, an uncontrollable emotion seized me, one that had noregard for a future, that sought only to realize wholly and at once anecstatic present. For what could be between us? I could not marryIsabel; and what could be? Blindly, without a thought of any of thesethings, I took Isabel's hands and drew her to me frightened andtrembling. Instantly I saw what I had done. Our life of frankcompanionship fell away from us. A new birth was ours; but of whatwonder and terror and danger! Isabel exclaimed: "Oh, my friend!" Thenshe lost her voice and whispered, "My friend!" She became relaxed, leaned back her head, closed her eyes. Tears crept down her cheeks. AndI was silent, in a kind of madness of fear, passion, regret, namelesssorrow. What could I say, to what could she listen? There was a longsilence. Then Isabel began to speak. 

"Help me, my friend, " she said. "How can I tell you how to be my friend?Still it must be. I care for you so deeply. Let me speak, but understandme as I try to speak, and help me. You are young and strong. You are socompanionable; I never grow tired of you--but you must know that I amnot different from you in all impulses, imaginings. But be my friend. Take into your being the beauty we have together; these flowers offriendship attend and keep for our garden--our Villa d'Este. Let it beopen to the sky and wind as this is, a place where innocence andkindness may come, where children may play and the old rest. Ah, myfriend, you have lived and now be strong for me. Uncle Tom is so fond ofyou. Think of all you have. You have had a wife, and you have a son. Benoble, be understanding, for really you see I am poor and you are rich. If possible these hands of passion which you have placed on mine mustchange, and my hands must forget what you have done. Otherwise what isthe future to be?"

Isabel began to sob, between her words crying: "Oh, be my friend!" Howcould I comfort her? The very comfort that her heart craved was thatwhich her sorrow strove to deny me the giving. I drew out my watch; wehad long overstayed our time, for we were to lunch at the Sibylla inTivoli. We walked slowly to the entrance where Serafino waited for uswith the carriage. He was smoking a pipe, calm and happy, and incompanionable conversation with the driver. 

At a table near the Temple of Vesta here on the Castro Vetere, thewaterfalls below us, Horace's Villa above us, we dined and became happyagain. 

When we got back to the pension Uncle Tom was there to greet us and toreceive Isabel's kiss upon a mischievously yielded cheek, and to hearher rapturous account of the afternoon. 

And I went forth with little Reverdy in the Borghese Gardens; afterwardsto continue my studies of the etchings of Piranesi. 

CHAPTER LIV

Isabel now took Reverdy into her heart with an ardor that could not bemistaken. She often went to bring him from school to the pension. Shetook him in walks about the broken columns of the Forum. They clamberedtogether over the galleries of the Coliseum and to the heights of thePalatine, exploring the ruins of the palaces of the Cesar's. They hadwalked out to the Appian Way, and gone to listen to the merles and thegolden wrens among the cypresses of the Protestant cemetery. 

Reverdy had begun to call Isabel "Mamma Isabel" and Isabel addressed himas "son. " Uncle Tom fell into the same way. The kinship between us wasstrengthened by these endearments. 

But I observed something of deeper, more mystical import; Reverdy wasattached to Isabel with an intense and curious filial passion. He wouldrush into the room and kiss Isabel, flinging his arms about her withecstatic joy. She evoked this demonstration in some secret, maternalway. And now as I tried to remember I could not recall that Dorothy hadever caressed Reverdy--not that she was cold toward him. She was thesoul of kindness. But whenever had she held him to her breast withdemonstrative heart-hunger and expression; whenever had she played withhim, walked with him, entered into his life of game or studies? She hadnever done so. Perhaps Reverdy had never had a mother after all. Now hehad one in Isabel, who seemed to direct something of the energy that shehad channeled into art and into travel to this boy of mine. But she didnot in any way withdraw her interest from me. 

I was wondering after our day at the Villa d'Este if she would placeherself again in a like intimacy with me, if we should go about togetheras before. No, there was no change as to program; but her eyes were soclear, so innocently bright, her smile and laugh so gentle, yet free ofdirect invitation, above all her devotion to Uncle Tom was so noble, that I felt loath to make my approach more intimate. What I craved andwhat I was glad to keep was our daily association. And now while shealways invited Uncle Tom to be with us and he more and more went his ownway, Isabel turned to Reverdy and arranged for him to accompany us aboutRome and into the country, once to Hadrian's Villa, once to Ostia wherewe looked upon the sea. It did not seem to me that Isabel sought to keepme at a distance and to bring in Reverdy as an influence to that end. She took such great delight in having him with us. It seemed only tohappen that he went with us. It was not always so. And it was all quitenatural. 

We had thus become friends in the profoundest sense. Once she referredto Pinturicchio saying: "If you feel that you could have loved thatman, don't you see that the same feeling can exist between a man and awoman? I am talking of that unity of two minds out of which the finestemotions come; and in the case of artists the noblest works. Love is notjust passional love, just this flame that burns so brightly and thendies. It may be a flame that has no material sustenance, or so slightthat we are not subtle enough to discern it; a flame that feeds onflame, unites with another flame and grows brighter for the union; andfinds in the flame a substitute for oil. Friendship is what I mean--orlove may be a better word. Here in Rome among the old shrines andtemples where the anemones and violets bloom so profusely, before thesculptured faces of Zeus and Aphrodite and Apollo and Bacchus, onedreams one's self into intuitions of the old gods, and the lovely faithsof the ancient world. And I go sometimes alone with a book to theBorghese or to the Capitoline and there let my imagination wander inre-creation of the visions of life and the soul that came asinterpretations to the ancients. I have lately been reading a book onthe cult of Orpheus, the Pagan Christ, one of the loveliest figures ofthe Greeks. It made me believe somehow that Christ never lived, that heis only a creation of the anonymous imagination of a hungering world. For surely Orpheus did not live, and how closely he resembles Christ asan embodiment of the heart's aspiration to free itself from the materialand to rise into a realm of pure beauty, understanding, devotion--alllovely things. My friend, I was thinking of you all the while. And ifyou could have been a friend of Pinturicchio in the noblest sense, whynot of me? I am not trying to play with words or with ideas, or toperplex you, or to excite your doubts or your desires. I think you havenever had a friend. What, after all, could you find in a soul somasculine, so lacking in intuition as Douglas; upon whom you have pouredyour admiration for all these years? Has it not been for lack of someone better to whom you could give your heart? That is why I wish thatyou and I could find an enduring and inspiring union in a mutualinterest in great things. Forgive me, I grieve that all this seems acruel waste to me--all these years of your life. "

"Is your life not a waste?" I asked before I could check the words. 

"No, " Isabel replied calmly, in no way offended. "After all there is afeeling in my heart for Uncle Tom such as you might have felt forPinturicchio. What does one derive from love? There are riches inadmiration, gratitude, sympathy, filial tenderness, in desire fordevotion; yes, even in pity; in the bestowal of comforting hands; insolace given in hours of fatigue and illness; in care for decliningvitality. All these expressions I have. And now, my friend, I would be ahelp to you. I would give you eyes to understand your past; and a visionto choose a better future. If you have ever been Dionysius, which youhave not, you are yet an unawakened soul. I would have you becomeOrpheus, attended by the Muses of all this loveliness with which we aresurrounded here. By contrast it makes me think of America, so vast butso without a soul. By soul I do not mean that energy which enforcesrighteousness, the dream of the fanatic, the ideal of the lawfabricator; but the soul of high freedoms, delights, nobilities. Forthere is just as much difference between those things as there isbetween Douglas and Pinturicchio. All of this goes without saying, ofcourse; but I am thinking of the application of these things to you. Iam your friend, you know. "

Was there reality in Isabel's words? Was she not sublimating thematerials of our thwarted relationship? Turning to Douglas I tried totell her what character of thinker he was and how, in spite of anydeficiency that he had, he was a brave heart and a thinking mind and aneeded builder in America. 

"It may be, " said Isabel. We were sitting in the Gardens of Adonis onceoccupied in part by the golden house of Nero, here where St. Sebastianwas bound to a tree and pierced with arrows. What material symbols forour thoughts! Ruins of walls, columns and capitols lay about us; and onthe air was borne the music of bells and the low murmur of Rome. In thispause of our conversation I heard a cry and looking up saw Reverdyrunning toward us, throwing up his arms in delight and falling upon thebreast of Isabel. She embraced him with all tenderness; then arose andbegan to run with him about the garden. In a little while we saw UncleTom approaching slowly. He was much out of breath and looked definitelyill. How had they found us? Isabel had told Uncle Tom that we mightstroll here; and Reverdy had prevailed upon Uncle Tom to drive this way. 

In a few days there was to be a service at St. Peter's which Isabel waseager to see. She was talking to Uncle Tom about it, begging him to go, and he was half consenting though reluctant. Reverdy was all delightover the prospect, and it was an opportunity for me to be with Isabel. She had never become a communicant of any church. But she abhorredatheism. It denied the love that she saw in nature, the divinity thatpermeated the human mind; the law she sensed in growth and decay; thespirit of beauty that reigned everywhere to her imagination. We were atone on this matter of denying a God, but the repugnance that I had hadto imperial Catholicism had been increased by Serafino's recitals ofItaly's sufferings under the Church and Austria. And in Rome one saw thesettled dominance of clericalism. Perhaps the Church was like negroslavery. If the Church ministered to beauty and spirituality, was it notasserted in favor of slavery that it afforded leisure; did it notcorrespond to the fertilization which enriches the roots of a gorgeousflower? I could see Isabel turning to the esthetics in the Catholicservice. "What can you say, " she asked, "against a faith that surroundsitself with pictures, sculpture, music, incense, the rhythm of richLatin, the appeal in words to life renewal, eternal life, purity, glory, tenderness? Say what you will of it; condemn its external sovereignty, of guns and poison and machinations--condemn these as you will--itsritual calls to purer dreams. And perhaps in all our life there must beoppression and particular injustice in order to produce the finestblossom. "

Uncle Tom seemed to be falling into more frequent indisposition. Heoften lay in bed for the greater part of the morning. There were dayswhen he did not leave his room. Again he would go forth to Canape's; andwhile he was rarely in anything like a stagger, he was often saturatedwith wine, heavy and sleepy from its influence. Isabel through it alltreated him with unfailing kindness; and some of our excursions wereinterrupted because of Uncle Tom's taking to bed after returning fromCanape's; or because he could not arise before noon after an eveningwith his friends. She would not desert his side. Was there something inmy presence with his life with Isabel, our friendship for each other, that woke nerves to suffering which only drink could dull?

The day of the service in St. Peter's we all set forth in one carriage, Reverdy riding on the box, and Isabel, Uncle Tom, and I in the seat. Inoticed that Uncle Tom was more than usually self-absorbed. Isabelpatted his hand or held it, and talked to him of the objects of interestalong the way. 

The service was about to begin when we entered. We walked as far as thebronze plate which marks the comparative length of the Cathedral ofMilan, and I was looking toward the bronze pavilion with its twistedcolumns which tents the tomb of St. Peter, through and around thesecolumns at the candles on the altar. Chanting voices echoed, soared inhollow reverberations up and about the arches, the domes; an organ wasgiving forth soft thunder in some hidden quarter. 

Suddenly Uncle Tom steps back, sways, coughs. Isabel utters a slightcry; I look at Uncle Tom and take him by the arm. Bystanders help mesupport him. He has turned very pale, blue at the lips. With theassistance of two men we take him to a carriage, drive to the pension. We put him to bed and send for a physician. 

Reverdy is sent away, and Isabel and I watch. For Uncle Tom is dying. The doctor says it is only a matter of a few hours. Uncle Tom wishes tomake a will. Will I write it out for him? His thoughts are clear. Heremembers his possessions, his relations. To brothers and sisters hegives handsome purses, all the rest to Isabel. 

"Isabel, " he says with difficulty. "Yes, my dear, " she replies in avoice of great tenderness. "Isabel, I want to give Jimmy something--tenthousand dollars. " Before she can speak I interject: "I do not need it, Uncle Tom. " He rolled his head in a negative, turned his hand feebly. "Igive it to you that you may do something for her. Then it will be fromyou and from me too. " Isabel stifles a sob by placing her hands tightlyover her mouth. "Write, " says Uncle Tom; and I write. 

The will is written. The doctor has come again. Uncle Tom signs the willin our presence. Then he asks the doctor for medicine for his lungs. "Iseem to have a cough, " he says. But it is not his lungs but his heart. We are standing by the bed. Uncle Tom takes our hands and puts themtogether. Instantly his head sinks upon the pillow. He is dead. Thedoctor walks from the room. Isabel and I stand by the bed with closedeyes, holding hands. 

CHAPTER LV

Standing beside the dead body of this man a future with Isabel took formin my heart. Love is a great solemnity itself. And in this moment I feltthat Isabel shared my vision. 

We buried Uncle Tom. Then Isabel began to prepare to sail for America. Of course no trip now around the world. She must go back to Connecticut, but she must go alone. That was her wish. It was understood that Ishould follow her later. This much was definite between us. Many plansfilled her mind. She had a large estate to put in order. There werelawyers and agents to consult. I really wished to return with her inorder to assist her. But she said: "It is best for you to stay here fora while. We shall write to each other. Later I wish you to come. "

The question in my mind was not shall we be married, but when shall webe married. But Isabel's mood was too serious, too majestic for me tobroach these definite subjects now. I looked into her eyes. It seemed tome that my thoughts were silently communicated to her. She pressed myhand gently. And so after some days of packing, in which I helped herconstantly, she sailed away and left me in Rome. 

I tried to work but the time would not pass. All my drawings andetchings were failures. What after all was art to me except a diversion?Too late! The only art that I ever could achieve was that of givinghappiness to Isabel and being worthy of her devotion. Her letters camefrequently, always so full of wise observations, striking fancies andimagery; so many with thanks for what I had been to her. She wrote methat Uncle Tom's will, as he had dictated it, had been probated andacquiesced in by every one. 

Six months went by. I had gone with Reverdy to Lake Maggiore to escapethe heat in Rome. While I was there a letter came from Isabel asking meto come to her. In three weeks I was by her side, having first placedReverdy in Phillips Exeter. We were together in the great homesteadwhich had belonged to Uncle Tom's father, there in Connecticut. It wasfull of the treasures of old times. Priceless things gathered onIsabel's travels--a great house set in a wonderful expanse of groundsabout a mile from a pretty village. It was October. The earth was aflamewith the fires of the forest. Jays cried from the maples. The air wassubtle with a delicate scent of pine needles and fallen leaves. 

She had other guests in the house. But they dispersed themselvesgracefully. We were much alone, reading, listening to music playedsoftly by one of her woman friends at a distance in the drawing room. Our favorite place was the window seat in the library, heaped withpillows and overlooking lilac and rose bushes, where we could see thegreat elms, the fountain, the country beyond. We had many walkstogether; and one afternoon we came to a place on a woodland path amidhills, trees towering above us, a brook playing below us. The air washushed with a passionate Orpheus, and there I sensed her yearning. Iheard the rhythm of her flesh singing to me. Her hands were stretchedtoward me, the pupils of her eyes grew wide as if a vision stood beforeher. For the first time I kissed Isabel upon the lips. 

Hitherto we had breathed the rarefied air of the peaks, seen the whitelight of the upper spaces, felt the passionless gods about us. Now wewere descending the rich valleys, to the clustered vines, to the placesof soft sounds and voluptuous air, to havens of sleep, to thereplenishment of our souls in the bridal supper. 

That night we sat again in the window seat. Her other guests faded hereand there. For a time there were shadowy fancies from the piano, thenthe house was stilled. But outside an April rain was falling. It peltedthe windowpanes as softly as driven petals. It made a fairy swish as offar-off waves, and we sat together in a dim light. Isabel's eyes wereclosed. Her head rested partly on my shoulder, partly on a pillow. Herhand lay limp in my hand. Her whole being was relaxed. We were quitealone. 

Isabel was with me body and mind. But a terror crept upon me. My veryhair trembled. I pressed her hand to my breast. It seemed only an act ofwill, however, not of emotion. I drew her head close to my breast. Allthese actions arrayed themselves before my detached observation. Paralyzing self-analysis preoccupied me. I kissed her upon the brow, theeyes, with pressure and strength upon the lips. I was not acting; I wasthinking out these demonstrations. The consciousness that I wasdeceiving Isabel broke my emotional concentration. Could she sense thatmy heart was beating, but with terror? Where were the flames that hadsung to me ethereally before? Where the song out of the flesh, but toosubtle for the ears of flesh? Yet I drew her closer to me, folded hertightly against my breast. My imaginative strength was more and moreabsorbed in self-analysis, into wonder as to what weakness had takenplace in me. For here was Isabel dissolved in my arms and how could Icontinue this futile demonstration? But why also desist? The sweat beganto stand out on my forehead. What should I say? Uncle Tom no longerstood between us. Isabel was my bride. There were no barriers to breakdown, no protests to overcome. We were both of an age and of anexperience where formalities lose their significance. The goddess haddescended to me and here was I a witless fool. Finally there flashedinto my mind what she had said to me in Rome: "My friend, for this oncebe Orpheus--Orpheus was once Dionysius. Orpheus, tranquil and inspired, touched the quiet lyre surrounded by the Muses. Orpheus had beenDionysius drinking wine, beating cymbals. Be Orpheus, my friend, andtake into your being these beauties of the mind which are givenus--these flowers of friendship attend and keep for our garden. "

These words ran through my tortured brain. They completed my enervation. But I could utter none of them to Isabel. What fear that hatred wasbudding in the heart of this woman at my side! I pressed her hands everynow and then to see what was moving in her; for as my mind would notcease to analyze, analysis became keener. Always she returned thepressure. Her kisses at first given with ardent emotion were now lispedsoftly against my cheek. So we sat side by side. The rain pelted thewindow, the clock chimed. And the night was passing. A proposal ofmarriage seemed belated, incongruous. Yet it came into my mind as aprotective coloration to more immediate expressions of the moment. 

Men have lost women because they dishonored them or betrayed them orchanged for the time toward them--for a thousand reasons. But look atme. What were friendship, truth, honor, the service of all that I was, love in its highest and deepest sense, understanding, sympathy with allof Isabel's flights of the mind, if I could not come to her with apromise of the future? She was not only the revelation of all that I haddesired and of all that I had missed in life, but she was the symbol ofa fate that has come past the appointed hour. I was the father ofReverdy by Dorothy, whom I loved with a heart's beginning; and I was thedefeated lover of the ideal whom I had found too late. 

In these circumstances of myself and Isabel were symbolized the lives ofall men who give their devotions to lesser loves, who find theircreations and their work imperfect or worthless when the planting seasonhas passed. 

As hollow as the words sounded, I nevertheless asked Isabel to be mywife. And Isabel without changing her position and without opening hereyes said in the quietest of voices: "You know I love you. You know Ihave loved you in every way a woman can. I love you as I loved UncleTom; for you are my friend, as he was. But what will the future be? Ihave been compelled all my life to center my thought upon books andmusic, friends, travel, and devotion to Uncle Tom. I have developed thispower of concentration and self-denial; but would you bring me to liveover again what I lived with Uncle Tom? Oh, my friend, no man canunderstand and fathom the maternal desire in a woman. It is a mysterywhich she alone knows. "

What life remained in me sank down just as a stricken eagle falls intothe thickets and is still; and breathes quietly and draws the film overits eyes. I could not answer her. The October air was mild. The housewas overheated. A window was open. An entering wind began to stir myhair. I thought of how it must look to another, these beginnings ofgray hair. Age had come to me. And I could see Isabel with my feelingsalone, sitting beside me so pale, so tender, so sorrowful. 

The clock strikes three. Isabel arouses, turns slightly from me, andgradually sits up. "That was three, wasn't it?" she asked. "Your trainleaves early in the morning. You must sleep a few hours. I shall not seeyou at breakfast. The maid will bring it to you. Shall we have a glassof wine together?"

She poured wine for me and we drank. She handed me a lighted candle. Then she stood and searched my face. She offered her lips to me, turnedand walked away. 

I stood with the candle in my hand, watching her until she passedthrough the shadows and darkness of the hall. The house was without asound. No step of her came from the hall or the stair. I still stoodwith the candle in that silence and fluttering darkness. Then I went tomy room. 

CHAPTER LVI

But I did not retire. I stood for a few moments looking through thewindow into the darkness. Then I placed my belongings in my satchel, stole softly out of the room, down the great stairs, opened the greatdoor of the main hallway and walked off the porch on to the gravel road, through the iron gate and into the highway leading to the village. Ilooked back at Isabel's mansion, at the roof dark between the darktrees. Under that roof the most priceless heart I had found in life wasbeating--but was it in sleep or in wakefulness? I was numbed, stunned, hopeless. I could never return here, never see Isabel again. The Orphicmetamorphosis meant a complete disappearance from her life. She had notturned me away or dismissed me; she had done no cruel thing, said noword that wounded or would grow poignant in memory. She had been inevery way an angel of light--and for these reasons I could not see heragain. Whatever I was in truth, rid of accidental emotions if such theywere, I had filled her mind with fear and doubt. Thus our fate was made, our sorrow was born. 

As I walked along in the darkness toward the village, my loneliness inthe world came over me. I had not attached many to me; many of those Ihad won were gone. Was there a home for me? How could I return to thehouse in Chicago? To what there? I had come from Italy to America; froma city of memories and spiritual richnesses to the tumult of New York. Above all I had found heaven in Isabel and lost it. My life had come toflower only to be withered. I had stepped out of heaven into hell, andfrom a great light into darkness. 

But the soul does not give up while there is breath. If one is ill helooks forward to health; if he is slowly dying he hopes for years oflife; if one friend is lost there is another to turn to. No heart sodesperate but can imagine a haven, however poor it may be, and go to it. 

In this hour my mind turned to Reverdy back in Jacksonville. There couldbe no truer, kinder heart. There in the prairie of Illinois that I hadgrown up with he would be my solace. What had I to do with Rome, withart; what with a woman like Isabel? I had ventured on sacred ground andthis was my punishment. A god had driven me forth. I had won my heart'sdesire; but before I could enjoy it a god, ironical but just, intuitiveand swift to punish, had sent me down to my place in life. I would go toReverdy, and stand before him in my familiar guise. He would not seeRome in my eyes; he would not know that I had been in Paradise; that inmy heart shone a face that I had put by and should never look on again. Every man is a temple of forsaken shrines, of altars where candlesburned replenished by spirits that need open no doors--a temple whoseportals are barred. 

I went through Chicago, which had grown and changed in my absence somarvelously, straight to Jacksonville, regarding nothing on my way, reading nothing. Like a supernatural being which has girdled the earthin a second, it seemed that I stood before Reverdy and Sarah and theirchildren. I stood before them, but I could hear the bells of Rome; and Isaw Isabel as she handed the candle to me and walked from the room. 

I supplemented what I had written to them of Dorothy's death; then Itold them brokenly of Rome. Where could I begin, what words could Iselect to express briefly my experiences? But besides, Isabel was all mythought, and of her I could not speak. Then we had the meal. The house, the town, the surrounding country, began to assemble themselves togetherfamiliarly. I was back. The old life was slipping on me as one removeshis best dress for the overalls of work. Pinturicchio! What light wasfalling on those soft and tender cheeks in the Vatican? But where wasDouglas?

Douglas! Reverdy looked at me as if he had much to say. "He'scampaigning, " said Reverdy; "already has made about a hundred speeches. He has a fight on his hands. He has a tough rival to handle. "

"Who is it?"

"Abraham Lincoln!"

"Who is Abraham Lincoln?"

I had never heard that name before; nor seen it in print. Reverdy wenton to tell me briefly that Lincoln had been in the legislature at thesame time that Douglas was in 1836; that he had been in Congress in1847; that he was well known as a lawyer in Springfield; that for manyyears he had done nothing but practice law, though more active inpolitics since 1855 than before. That was some explanation of myignorance of the name. 

I repeated it aloud: "Abraham Lincoln. That is a great name, " I said toReverdy. "Well, he's an able lawyer, and he gives Douglas enough to doin the debates they're having. " "So they are debating, are they?" Iasked. "Yes, " drawled Reverdy, "Lincoln was nominated for Senator by theRepublicans; Douglas of course is again the nominee of the Democrats. Lincoln challenged Douglas to a debate; and they're at it hot and heavy. We talk of nothing else. It's funny you didn't hear of it anywhere alongthe way home. This part of the country is on fire, and they say the Eastis waking up to what is going on here in Illinois. I've got thenewspapers here containing all the debates. You've got some good readingahead of you. To-morrow's the last debate over at Alton. "

"We must go, " I said quickly. "I wouldn't miss that for the world. Wemust go. " And I was thinking, what better way to forget Isabel? Reverdywas really glad to hear this debate at Alton; but it was necessary forhim to attend to some things this day in preparation of being absentto-morrow. In the afternoon he had to drive out to his farm, and I wentwith him. And when we came within a short distance of the log cabin, where I had spent my first winter on the farm, I was seized with adesire to see it again. There was so much of Rome and Italy fresh in mymind with which to contrast my previous life. And we drove to the cabin. 

The door had fallen to one side. The clay between the logs had dried, turned to dust, and fallen away. The roof had sagged. The fireplace wasgoing to wreck. We looked in. Weeds had grown up during the summerthrough the crevices of the floor. The place was lonely and haunted. "Well, " said Reverdy, "this is the kind of a home that Lincoln had as aboy. He was born in a cabin like this; and he's poor now. He has nevergot rich like Douglas has. And Douglas will soon be as poor as Lincolnif he keeps on at the same rate spending money in this campaign. Theysay he has mortgaged nearly all his property in Chicago. Everybody'sfighting him--the Republicans, all the Abolitionists, and half theDemocrats. This campaign means his political death or life. "

"You say Lincoln was born in a log cabin. Is this a campaign of the logcabin, hard cider, and war records?"

"Well, perhaps more log cabins, but no war record. Lincoln was never inany war but the Black Hawk. He was against the Mexican War; and when inCongress voted for resolutions that the war was unconstitutional andimproper. No, he is not old Harrison or old Zach Taylor. Still the logcabin is in the fight. "

Then Reverdy went on to tell me that Lincoln was a clean man and thatthe Republicans had no abler man in Illinois; that he had been a gooddeal in politics after all, though quiet for about ten years. That whileDouglas had been Senator, chairman of the committee on territories, hisname on everybody's tongue, the most prominent man and the most activein the whole country, building railroads, organizing territories, battling with Great Britain, settling California and Oregon, and Kansasand Nebraska, traveling abroad into Russia and Asiatic Europe, andcompanioning with notables everywhere, making money almost like amillionaire, Lincoln had been over at Springfield practicing law, talking on the street corners, sitting in his office alone inreflection, sometimes reading; but all the while, in a way, resting. 

"He's fresh and Douglas is tired, " said Reverdy. "He has the advantageof not having committed himself much. Douglas has spoken freely oneverything. He's four years older than Douglas, but he's a younger man. He's a temperance man they say; and while I like a drink, I don't liketo see a man drink as much as Douglas does. They say he's been pouringit down during this campaign. But as for Douglas' stooping to debatewith Lincoln, it's no stoop. They make the fur fly when they talk. WhatI fear is that there's going to be trouble in this country. I hateslavery, but I hate this agitation too. I don't want to see the Northkeep on making war on the South. It will breed trouble sure. And thisis where I stand with Douglas. He is for non-interference with slaveryand his election will be a quieter. "

When we got back to Reverdy's house I plunged into the newspaperscontaining the debates. I read until suppertime, and then late into thenight. I read them all. I went to bed and analyzed the arguments. 

A house divided against itself cannot stand! This was Seward'sirrepressible conflict clothed in Biblical language. The religiousrevival which had swept the country gave these words a compellingacceptance. But as I read this it came over me that both Jesus andLincoln were sophists. For a house divided against itself can stand; andirrepressible conflicts rage forever. They may change their ground, butthey do not cease. I had seen this in Europe and in Italy, where in theJanuary just past a certain Orsini had attempted the life of LouisNapoleon because he had not acceded to the labors of Cavour and thushastened the liberty of Italy. And yet Italy was standing and France. Houses are divided everywhere and they stand. Beelzebub is crafty enoughto cast out devils here and there in order to confound his kingdom withthe Kingdom of Heaven. Of course he does not cast all the devils out--ifhe did he would lose his kingdom--only enough to make himself appear asone of the divine wonder-workers. A house divided against itself canstand, even as the world can stand with both good and evil in it, withboth God and Satan in divided authority over it; and even as man hasgood and evil in his own nature and still lives and works withoutbecoming wholly good or wholly evil. So could this country stand dividedinto free and slave states as it was formed at the beginning. There wasnot the slightest chance that it would ever become all slave, as Lincolnhad presented one of the alternatives of a divided house. There wasgreat chance that it would become all free by natural processes, asDouglas had indicated over and over again before the time of thesedebates. 

Here I found that the debaters had split hairs on what the fathers haddone. "Why can't these agitators leave the states as they were made bythe fathers, slave and free?" asked Douglas. "They were not made, "retorted Lincoln, "they were found; slavery was found and was let be asit was. " "No, " said Douglas, "the fathers organized a republic, adopteda Constitution; and when they made it, instead of abolishing slavery, making it free, they kept slavery and made it slave by the votes ofstates passing upon and acceding to an instrument of government. Andbesides, this instrument of government provided for the importation ofmore slaves from Africa; and provided for the capture and return offugitive slaves now in the country or thereafter to be imported into thecountry. "

Douglas had attacked the doctrine of a divided house with all possiblepower and brilliancy. He had insisted that there was no more reason forthe house of America to be divided because there was negro slavery insome states and no slavery in others, than because there was prohibitionin Maine and whisky in Kentucky. And that there would be disunion ifsome states warred on other states about the purely domestic affairs ofthe latter. This was the only sense in which the house could be divided, and caused to fall. That disparate interests in the states should notmake hostility between them; and that hostility arising from attacks andagitation should be put down. He went on to denounce the Republicanparty for holding and preaching a faith that arrayed one section of thecountry against another; and with great satire and invective he showedthat the Republicans stood upon sectional principles which could not bepreached in the South and not everywhere in the North. "But now you havea sectional organization, " he had said to a theocratic audience atGalesburg, "a party which appeals to the northern section of the Unionagainst the southern, a party which appeals to northern passion, northern pride, northern ambition, and northern prejudices, againstsouthern people, the southern states, and southern institutions. Theleaders of that party hope to be able to unite the northern states inone great sectional party; and inasmuch as the North is the strongestsection they will thus be enabled to outvote, conquer, and control theSouth. Is there a Republican in Galesburg who can travel into Kentuckyand carry his principles with him across the Ohio?"

Douglas had even shown that Lincoln did not utter the same sentimentsin all parts of Illinois. In Chicago where there was a large alien voteLincoln had said: "I should like to know if taking this old Declarationof Independence which declares that all men are equal upon principle andmaking exceptions to it, where will it stop? If one man says it does notmean a negro, why may not another man say it does not mean another man?If the Declaration is not the truth let us get the statute books inwhich we find it and tear it out. Who is so bold as to do it?... Let usdiscard all this quibbling about this man and the other man, this raceand the other race being inferior, and therefore they must be placed inan inferior position, discarding our standard that we have left us. Letus discard all these things and unite as one people throughout this landuntil we shall once more stand up declaring that all men are createdequal. "

Douglas had driven Lincoln hard upon this application of the Declarationof Independence with the result that in the southern part of Illinois, at Charleston, Lincoln had uttered these words of a very differenttenor:

"I will say then that I am not nor never have been in favor of bringingabout in any way the social and political equality of the white andblack races; that I am not nor never have been in favor of making freevoters of the negroes or jurors or qualifying them to hold office orhaving them marry with white people. I will say in addition that thereis a physical difference between the white and black races which Isuppose will forever forbid the two races living together upon terms ofsocial and political equality; and inasmuch as they cannot so live thatwhile they do remain together there must be the position of the superiorand the inferior; that I, as much as any other man, am in favor of thesuperior position assigned to the white man. "

Lincoln and Douglas were therefore at one on this. But how aboutslavery? Lincoln looked forward to a time when slavery would beabolished. How could that be? By not admitting any more slave states?No! For Lincoln confessed that he would as a Senator vote to admit aslave state, if it as a territory had had a free chance to have slaveryor freedom as it chose, and if in becoming a state it freely adopted aslave constitution. As to these opinions Lincoln and Douglas wereagreed; for Douglas had fought the Kansas constitution because it forcedslavery on Kansas; and now the whole Buchanan administration in Illinoiswas arrayed against Douglas for his attitude on Kansas, and Lincoln wasprofiting by that. 

How would Lincoln abolish slavery? By starving it, girding it aboutgradually with freedom, keeping it where it was. That was all. Whatwould Douglas do? Referring to Lincoln's looking forward to a time whenslavery would be abolished everywhere Douglas said: "I look forward to atime when each state shall be allowed to do as it pleases. If it choosesto keep slavery forever, it is not my business but its own; if itchooses to abolish slavery, it is its own business not mine. I caremore for the great principles of self-government, the right of thepeople to rule, than I do for all the negroes in Christendom. I wouldnot endanger the perpetuity of this Constitution, I would not blot outthe great inalienable rights of the white men for all the negroes thatever existed. "

What would Lincoln do about the fugitive-slave law? Douglas haddenounced attempts to evade it and actual violations of it. Even theWhigs frowned on its nullification. What would Lincoln do? He was not infavor of its repeal. He had said at Freeport: "I think under theConstitution of the United States, the people of the Southern States areentitled to a Congressional fugitive-slave law.... As we are now in noagitation in regard to an alteration or modification of that law, Iwould not be the man to introduce it as a new subject of agitation uponthe general question of slavery. "

For the rest, what did it all come to? Like two pugilists Lincoln andDouglas blocked each other's blows, drove each other into corners. Lincoln twitted Douglas about being on both sides of the matter ofextending the Missouri Compromise. Then Douglas tripped Lincoln, who hadasserted that only slavery had ever disturbed the peace of the Union. "How about the War of 1812, and the Hartford convention?" asked Douglas. How about the tariff and South Carolina in 1832? He might have asked, how about the Alien and Sedition laws and the Kentucky resolutions of1798. But for the rest, what did it all come to?

Lincoln contended that Congress had the power to forbid slavery in theterritories; Douglas worked up from a position, which scarcely deniedthe power, but rather shrank from its use, to the position thatsovereignty abode in the people of the territory; and that as Congresshas no express grant of power to legislate upon slavery as to aterritory, the territorial sovereignty had the only power to do so. Heattacked Lincoln's position that a territory is a creature of Congressas a property, to be clothed with powers or denied powers; andparticularly with powers not possessed by Congress itself. This doctrineled to imperialism. Douglas held that Congress had the power to organizeterritories under the clause providing for the admission of new states;but when they were organized they assumed an organic sovereignty out ofan inchoate sovereignty, and had the right to legislate as they chose tothe same extent as a state. It was the old fight between implied powersand strict construction. 

What in the Constitution forbade slaves from being taken into theterritories? Not a thing. Moreover the territories were the commons ofall the states, won by their common valor and blood. Could not a liquordealer from Chicago take his stock to Kansas? Assuredly. Why then couldnot a planter from Louisiana take his slaves to Nebraska? Liquor andslaves were property. Who said so? The fugitive-slave clause of theConstitution, and the fugitive-slave law of 1850 which Lincoln admittedhe would not alter. 

But after the liquor was in Kansas or the slave in Nebraska could theyflourish? That depended on the territorial law, the attitude of thepeople. Did Congress have to pass favorable legislation? From whatclause flowed the duty and the power? Did a territorial legislature havepower to pass favorable legislation? It was not called upon to do so byanything in the Federal Constitution. Therefore, the mere right to takea slave into free territory under the Dred Scott decision, take it asproperty, was a naked right without local support. "This popularsovereignty is as thin as soup made from the shadow of a starvedpigeon, " said Lincoln. Nevertheless, it was what it was and no more. AndLincoln's catch question on the legal right to keep slavery out of theterritories did not catch Douglas. The mere right to take a slave intofree territory could coexist with no protective legislation after theslave was there. It could coexist with unfavorable legislation andsocial opposition. Let natural processes rule. 

What was the difference between this and girding the slave states aroundwith freedom? That could scarcely be done without the aid of naturalprocesses. 

But since Douglas did not admit that Congress had to give favorablelegislation to a slave owner who had taken his slave into a territory, the South was drawing away from him. He was not their friend to theextreme doctrine of taking a slave into a territory and keeping him aslave against the will of the territory. Was Douglas unmoral? What ofthe unmorality of taking Kansas and Nebraska from the Indians? Was hesyllogistic, analytic, intellectually hard? But was not Lincoln so too?Douglas derived from Jefferson through Jackson; Lincoln from Hamiltonthrough Webster, whatever else could be said of them. 

Thus I read on through the night until I had finished all that Douglasand Lincoln had said at the six debates then finished. The next morningReverdy and I started for Alton. 

I could scarcely wait to get my first glimpse of Lincoln. 

CHAPTER LVII

Alton, this old town that I had visited so many times before, wascrowded with people drawn from the surrounding country, from across theriver in Missouri. As to the temper of the audience, it rather favoredDouglas. I saw the leering, ugly faces that I had seen in the lobbies ofthe hotels in St. Louis years before at the railroad convention, whenCaptain Grant was lounging there and planters swarmed at the bar andcursed Yankees and nigger-lovers. 

It was the fifteenth of October, fair and temperate. Thousands swarmedaround the speaker's stand in the public square, which was bare of flagsor mottoes by express orders of the masters of ceremony. The timearrived. Lincoln came to the platform and took a seat. 

He was tall, enormously tall, long of limb, angular, narrow shouldered. His skin was yellow and dry, wrinkled. His hair was black and coarse. His eyes were sunk back in his head with a melancholy expression whichcould flame into humor or indignation. But his forehead was full, shapely, and noble. The largeness of his nose, tilted a little to oneside, gave sculptural strength to his face. His great mouth with itsfleshy underlip, supplemented the nose. Both were material for grotesquecaricature. He looked like an educated gawk, a rural genius, a piedpiper of motley followers. He was a sad clown, a Socratic wag, acountryman dressed up for a state occasion. But he was not a poor mandefending the cause of the poor. There was nothing of the dreamer in hismake-up, the eccentric idealist. His big nose and mouth and Henry Clayforehead denied all of this. He sat in self-possession, in poise, clothed in the order of confident reason, unafraid, sure of himself butwithout vanity, in a wise detachment, on a vantage point of vision. Hisfrock coat, rusty from dust and wear, did not fit him. The sleevesescaped his wrists by several inches; his trousers had hitched up as hesat down, so that one half of his shanks was exposed to view, leavinghis monstrous feet, like the slap-boots of a negro minstrel, forludicrous inches over the floor. His neck was long and feminine, andstuck up grotesquely much above a sort of Byronic collar held togetherby a black stock tie. I had never seen a man so absurd. 

Douglas was as ludicrously short as Lincoln was tall; broad shoulderedwhere Lincoln was narrow; thick chested where Lincoln was thin; bigheaded where Lincoln was small; of massive brow where Lincoln was fulland shapely; of strong bull-like neck where Lincoln was small anddelicate; of short, compact, powerful body where Lincoln was tall, loosely constructed, awkward, and muscular. Douglas' face woredetermination, seriousness, force, pugnacity, and endurance. But hishair was grayer than mine; he looked tired. He arose and in that greatmelodious voice which always thrilled me, he said: "It is now nearlyfour months since the canvass between Mr. Lincoln and myself commenced. "

He went on and controverted Mr. Lincoln's "house divided againstitself, " going over the ground of the previous debate. There was not asound of disturbance in the audience. They were in a charm, a trance. Oratory could rise to no greater heights. Then after saying that theDeclaration of Independence did not include the negro, Indians, or FijiIslanders, but that all dependent races should be treated neverthelesswith fairness, and that it did not follow that because a negro was aninferior he must be a slave, he appealed to the rights of the states andthe territories to control slavery for themselves. He closed with thesememorable words:

"Why can we not thus have peace? Why should we allow a sectional partyto agitate this country, to array the North against the South, andconvert us into enemies instead of friends merely that a few ambitiousmen may ride into power on a sectional hobby? How long is it since theseambitious northern men wished for a sectional organization? Did any oneof them dream of a sectional party as long as the North was the weakersection and the South the stronger? Then all were opposed to sectionalparties; but the moment the North obtained the majority in the House andin the Senate by the admission of California and could elect aPresident without the aid of southern votes, that moment ambitious menformed a scheme to excite the North against the South and make thepeople be governed in their votes by geographical lines, thinking thatthe North being the stronger section would outvote the South andconsequently they, the leaders, would ride into office on a sectionalhobby. I am told that my hour is out. It was very short. "

Short it was. I thought he had just begun. What would this strangecreature now rising to six feet four inches of awkward angularity say inreply to this wonderful oration? He opened his great mouth and spoke. What is this? A falsetto note, a piping instead of the musical thunderwe have heard. He poses strangely, his gestures shoot up and out likethe arms of a dislocated clothes rack. He rises on his toes with a quickspringlike movement, as if he were a puppet loosened by a spring from abox. He sways from side to side to give emphasis to his words. His mouthopens to huge proportions in moments of excitement. His black hair fallsover his forehead. His great nose sticks out like a signboard. Is hescoring?

I know, for I have read the other debates. He is wasting no words; he ismeeting Douglas point by point, whether successfully or not. He seemedembarrassed, diffident at first. Why not? He is fighting a giant; thenthere are ugly faces in the audience, men in drink, slave owners fromMissouri, Democrats who hate sectionalism and loathe the rise of theRepublican party. Whispers are near me: "He amounts to nothing. Douglashas laid him out. He is scared. The Little Giant has choked him. "

But Lincoln goes on. His earnestness deepens, his seriousness becomesmore impressive. His voice is carrying even though it pipes. He hasendurance, too, and courage and fighting will. But Douglas has made itvery difficult for him; indeed he has brought Lincoln to his terms onnearly everything--all but the 'house divided against itself' doctrine;and the right and duty of Congress to keep slavery out of theterritories. These are issues between him and Douglas still; but is thisthe real issue after all? He is nearly through. He has been going on asif he were making a statement of a case. It is interjected withargument; but it is largely statement of positions. It is declaratoryand follows the form of a poem, not an argument. It assumes premises; hesays "I think so. " It has reason back of it, but it is the reason ofthings proven. It is fortified by matters of general acceptance. It haslogic, but the logic of things existing inherently, not made. And atlast, more earnestly than before, he says:

"On the point of my wanting to make war between the free and the slavestates, there has been no issue between us. So too when he says that Iam in favor of introducing a perfect social and political equalitybetween the white and the black races. These are false issues uponwhich Judge Douglas has tried to force the controversy. There is nofoundation in truth for the charges that I maintain either of thesepropositions. The real issue in this controversy--the one pressing uponevery mind--is the sentiment upon the part of one class that looks uponthe institution of slavery as a wrong, and of another class that doesnot look upon it as a wrong. The sentiment that contemplates theinstitution of slavery in this country as a wrong is the sentiment ofthe Republican party. It is the sentiment around which all theiractions, all their arguments, circle, from which all their propositionsradiate. That is the real issue. That is the issue that will continue inthis country when these poor tongues of Judge Douglas and myself shallbe silenced. It is the eternal struggle between these twoprinciples--right and wrong--throughout the world. They are the twoprinciples that have stood face to face from the beginning of Time, andwill ever continue to struggle. The one is the common right of humanityand the other the divine right of kings. It is the same spirit thatsays: 'You work and toil and earn bread, and I'll eat it. ' No matter inwhat shape it comes, whether from the mouth of a king who seeks tobestride the people of his own nation and live by the fruit of theirlabor, or from one race of man as an apology for enslaving another race, it is the same tyrannical principle. "

What had come over Lincoln? He was no longer awkward. A divine gracepermeated his being. The October sun threw glory upon his brow, gave usa look into his deeply illuminated eyes, left nothing of the great noseand mouth but their strength, the sculptural impressiveness of stonefeatures in the sides of hills. What would Serafino think if he couldhear this?

Then of a sudden I saw Pinturicchio in Lincoln's face, the samegentleness along the sunken cheeks, the same imaginative glow in thewhole countenance. Here in this warped and homely face, this face out ofthe womb of poverty and sorrow, the winter loneliness of the forest, thehumbleness and the want of the log cabin, the mystical yearning ofhumanity on the prairies and under the woodland stars, I saw for a swiftmoment in the glancing of the sun, as he uttered these words, the geniusof the poet who knows and states, who has lived years of loneliness andfailure, who has seen others grow rich, notable, and powerful, and whohas remained obscure and unobeyed, with nothing but a vision which hasbecome lightning at last in a supreme moment of inspiration. Lincoln hadhad his hour whatever should befall him. 

The debate was over--the debates were over. Reverdy and I walked awaywith the great crowd hurrahing for Douglas, a few hurrahing for Lincoln. 

I began to repeat to myself what Douglas had said years before in theSenate in replying to Webster: "There is a power in this nation greatereither than the North or the South--a growing, increasing, and swellingpower that will be able to speak the law of this nation and to executethe law as spoken. That power is the country known as the Great West. There, sir, is the hope of this nation--the resting place of the powerthat is not only to control but to save the Union. "

This prediction had now been fulfilled. This West had produced Lincolnand Douglas. One of them was sure to have the responsibility ofexecuting the law as spoken. Of this I was sure. 

CHAPTER LVIII

When I got back to Chicago I found a letter from Isabel. It read:

"My dear friend: It hurts me to think that you stole off in thedarkness. I can see you in imagination walking the lonely way, carryingyour satchel. Perhaps it made no difference that you did not stay untilmorning, but still it hurts me. And what can I say to you now? Are welike two people who are kept from each other by circumstances that theydo not control, like friends whom a war separates? I hardly know how toexpress myself. There seems to be nothing to say; and yet there is somuch for which I wish I had words; or I wish some word of mine couldalter the circumstances. I am loath to lose your friendship, yourassociation. We have so much in common that can be enjoyed throughletters; and I do wish you to write me. Above all you must not thinkthat anything of depreciation or disregard has entered my heart. If thisbe true, why must you change toward me? Do I speak fantastically when Iask you to try out a marriage of the mind? The experiences through whichyou and I have passed have enabled me to penetrate the reality of mywishes and so even to have had them. I have known one kind of devotion;and I can fancy disillusionment coming over something more intenselyemotional. Can we not think that we might grow tired of each other, andthat we are to-day where we would be if we should become disillusionedbut without having the bitterness of such an experience? Our poor humannatures are cursed with fatigue, and with the loss of beauty and visionconsequent upon daily intimacy. Let me say to you then that I love youand shall always love you, and that I have nothing in my heart thatwould not console you if everything in my heart was frankly expressed toyou. If I ever should marry any one you will not lose your place in myaffections. I turn to my life which I left for you. And you must seethat if you have tragedy, so have I. As far as possible lift yourselfout of the disturbing things of politics, and leave lesser personalitieswith the gods who are fashioning this world in the image of moreenduring truths. There is solace to me, and I hope there may be to you, in the fact that we two are in the world together and that I can thinkof you as my friend and I trust can write to you as I hope you willwrite to me. Let us face the reality and consider that after all we havethe sweetest and best of things that can be between a man and a woman. If I can ever help you in any way I shall be so glad. I sense somehowthat you may fear me, thinking that you have become indifferent in myeyes. This is not true. I cannot too often assure you of this. I hopefor good things for you and your Reverdy. Give my love to him from'Mamma Isabel' and believe me, affectionately, Isabel. "

And I wrote to Isabel: "Some of your admonitions came too late to me, for I am interested in politics again. I have just returned from Altonwhere I went to hear Douglas debate against a Mr. Lincoln, a lawyer ofSpringfield, who has been nominated for Senator by the Republicans. Heis as much of a backwoodsman as anybody could be, as much so as Harrisonand a good deal more so than Taylor. But he is not to be despised eitherin himself or on account of his backers. The Republican party inIllinois profits by the feeling of the German révolutionnaires; andLincoln may be ever so poor and so humble, nevertheless the Republicanparty has drawn to itself some of the richest and most powerfulinterests in the country; interests which are far-sighted enough to seethat if the Republican party can be put into power the mercantileambition of the North to control the South and the whole country will berealized. No human being could have been a greater orator than Douglaswas at Alton; while Lincoln, in spite of disadvantages of voice andmanner and physique, rose to great heights of eloquence. The climax ofhis speech was when he spoke of the world-old struggle between right andwrong. I was swept off my feet for the moment and seemed to see in hisface something of the genius of Pinturicchio. Now I wonder if I was notbefooled both as to the value of Lincoln's utterance and as to hiskinship with the great Italian artist. After all I do not know what isright and wrong; and I do not believe any one else does. I see thatpeople get worked up into furies over what they think is right andwrong, and kill each other on account of it. Later ages view the matteras of no importance; and the lives that are lost in the struggle are asforgotten as the multitudinous leaves which bestrew the ground of anautumnal forest. I fear I am in a very bad state of mind. It is true, asyou intimate in your letter, that I am passing through a certainhumiliation of spirit; and I am thus inclined to speculate on the valueof all truths and philosophies. I seem to see that material thingscontrol truths and influence our human natures in every way. Ourexperience demonstrates this fact. And in the case of Douglas andLincoln, Douglas is quick to sense the moralistic hypocrisy with whichthe Republicans are draping their trafficking ambitions. But, on theother hand, I believe that Lincoln is as honest in his desire to keepslavery out of the territories as Douglas is honest in his plan to letthe territories decide the matter for themselves. Both of these men areambitious. Lincoln is of the industrial faith which is backboning theRepublican party, and Douglas is of the vaguer and less materialisticfaith which for so long has appealed to American Democracy in terms andpromises of all kinds of freedoms and independencies.... I would give mylife almost to see you again, but somehow I do not know how to bring itabout, while at the same time I am living in hope that it may be so, andtrusting that you will see me in a different light, and that I can giveyou assurances which will justify your vision. I am not very well andhave been consulting a physician, since coming West, who seems to thinkthat my nerves are in bad condition and that I am worn by striving andby life. It is curious too that Douglas, though bulky and fat, seems tome a tired man. Perhaps both of us have lost the way; and it may be truethat later he will have the true vision as I did in you. I wish youcould call me back to you. My mind wavers as I write. Affectionately, James. "

With the exchange of these letters I merged my feelings into otherthings. The roar of Illinois and of the country tended to keep my mindfrom brooding on Isabel. There was a melancholy resignation in the wordsof Lincoln upon his own defeat for the Senatorship, which were in keywith my own grief and helped me to sublimate it. He had written to afriend who chanced to show me the letter: "It gave me a hearing on thegreat and durable questions of the age, which I could have had in noother way; and though I now sink out of view and shall be forgotten Ibelieve I have made some marks which will tell for the cause of civilliberty long after I am gone. "

The cause of civil liberty! Had not Douglas stood for this too? He hadwon against the terrific opposition of the Buchanan administration. Hehad fought the slave constitution of Kansas and he had beaten down inthis campaign the enmity which had risen up around him because he hadfought that constitution. The Republicans were exceedingly glad thatDouglas' contest had divided the support of his own party. They had nothanks for him for what he had done for civil liberty in that regard. They were glad of his election over Lincoln for the sinister reason thatDouglas' triumph, since Douglas was almost at one with Lincoln as to thematter of slavery, meant a decline and a division of the Democraticparty as a whole. At the same time there was talk now of Lincoln for thePresidency. But Lincoln did not think he was worthy of the honor. Lincoln was writing and saying: "What is the use of talking of me whilstwe have such men as Seward and Chase, and everybody knows them, andscarcely anybody outside of Illinois knows me; besides, as a matter ofjustice, is it not due to them? I admit I am ambitious and would like tobe President.... But there is no such good luck in store for me as thePresidency of these United States. " There was a pathos about this manLincoln which won my heart. 

I spent some evenings now with Aldington and Abigail. We drove out tosee the Douglas property south of the town. A horse-car line was beingbuilt from Randolph Street to 12th Street, but beyond that was the wasteof sand and of scrub oaks, and the land which Douglas had all but lostin financing himself in this campaign. I was ready to help Douglas withmoney if he would accept it from me; but just now he was not an easy manto find, and he did not come to me. 

The trial and execution of John Brown was another thunderclap. AndAbigail showed me what was being said about it. A certain HenryThoreau, a strange, radical soul living in the woods near Concord, Massachusetts, had compared John Brown to Christ. "Some eighteen hundredyears ago, " Thoreau said, "Christ was crucified; this morning perchanceCaptain Brown was hung. These are the two ends of the chain which is notwithout its links. He is not old Brown any longer; he is an angel oflight.... I foresee the time when a painter will paint that scene, nolonger going to Rome for a subject. The poet will sing it, the historianwill record it; and with the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers and theDeclaration of Independence, it will be the ornament of some futurenational gallery when at least the present form of slavery shall be nomore here. We shall then be at liberty to weep for Captain Brown. "

Could it be possible that this Captain Brown should have hisPinturicchio? Well, might it not be so since Victor Hugo, living inexile, had also given Brown an apotheosis? Abigail also had WaltWhitman's _Leaves of Grass_, who was preaching the doctrine ofbrotherhood, democracy, resistance to the law. 

"What sort of country is this?" I asked Abigail. "Can every one sethimself up as a judge of the laws and disobey them if he chooses? If youhad heard Douglas' speech you would be convinced that this sort of maniawill cease or there will be war. Even Emerson is among these idealisticrebels, for he says that it is a lack of health to cry 'madman' at ahero as he passes. I think the Bible is responsible for much of thisturmoil and foolish rebellion, if not all of it. Lincoln founded hiscampaign upon the Bible: a house divided against itself cannot stand. And just because Christ is taken as divine, every word and act of his islived up to by some madman as justification for acts like those ofBrown. "

In the meantime Abigail had found among her papers the words of VictorHugo: "He is not a New Englander, " she said, "nor an American idealist. And he says--I'll translate it for you: 'In killing Brown the SouthernStates have committed a crime which will take its place among thecalamities of history. The rupture of the Union will fatally follow theassassination of Brown. As to Brown, he was an apostle and a hero. Thegibbet has only increased his glory and made him a martyr. '"

Well, was not Douglas a martyr too? Who had done more for his country?Was Lincoln any more radical than Douglas? Lincoln was defeated to besure, but Douglas was penalized for what he had said in these debates. No sooner had he returned to Washington than he found himself deposedfrom the committee on territories. He was beginning to be a man withouta party. He was paying for his ideas. 

A book called _Helpers, the Impending Crisis of the South_ had at thistime woven itself into the clouds of the gathering storm. It hadinfluenced the election of a Speaker in Congress, for although Lincolnwas defeated in Illinois, the Republicans had 25 Senators to 38Democrats; and the House had 109 Republicans to 128 Democrats. A crisiswas indeed impending, with Douglas, the greatest man in the country, dishonored and disarmed by the Southern States. What was growing up, andfrom what source, which should be the master of the destiny of thecountry? What was giving it strength but some form of materialism? Thephrase "the struggle for existence" crept into our conversation, forDarwin's _The Origin of Species_ had made its appearance this year. Wediscussed its principles as far as we could make them out from thereports of the book. Every one knew that strength survives. But what isstrength? Did the North have strength, or the South? Did moral ideashave strength, or did war? All the while, where did God come in? Abigailsaid: "He comes in in this very struggle, defeat and devouring. For allthe while there is triumph in the realm of the mind, and mind is God. Myfriend, you can think of Douglas and slavery and politics, and impendingwar; I know of something that overtops them all and can handle all ofthem as playthings. That is chemistry. "

"Where do you get all these things?" I asked Abigail. "From Richard, from books, from publications, everywhere. I am watching this thrillingthing called life and I can laugh when I see you taking Douglas andLincoln so seriously; for really they amount to very little. Douglas hasgiven some of his land to found a university. What will they teach init? Anything of Douglas'? What? No, young minds will read philosophythere and study mathematics and chemistry by which engines, bridges, telegraphs, will be constructed. Here is a funny thing. You remember theAtlantic cable was laid last summer. Poor old Buchanan, the mightyPresident of a mighty Republic, is so ignorant that he doubts the verityof the message which Queen Victoria sent to him. Douglas and Lincoln!What are their speculations as to whether this ridiculous old documentcalled the Constitution goes into a territory or not? Give me old BishopBerkeley with his inquiries concerning the virtues of tar water. Ittakes imagination of some moment to sense, as he did, that tar containsthe purified spirits of the trees, of vegetation which can heal and helpman. These were dreams worth while. Now a German chemist named Kekule, comes along and develops a theory called the valence of atoms. And whocan tell what will come of that? For that matter, Sir Walter Raleigh didmore for the world than Douglas. He found petroleum in the Trinidadpitch lake way back in the sixteenth century. And now a well has justbeen drilled, not for salt as you saw it in Kentucky as a boy, but forthe oil for which they then had no use except to make ointment forpeople who stumble on the pier trying to catch a boat. "

I said to Abigail: "I have never pretended that Douglas was a scientistor an artist or that he had a philosophical mind, but now that you bringthese things to my attention I want to ask you why he is not afirst-class disciple of Darwin, since he has advocated the processes ofnature in the solution of the slavery question. "

"Nature! Well, are climate and soil any more nature than thought? Can'twe use our will and our thought to assist climate and soil, aboutanything? But after all I get tired of this emphasis of the one slavery, just as you do. Why not include some other slaveries for condemnation?There is Emerson for example. He didn't start out with this John Brownidea. He began with a plea for emancipation intellectually from England;and for emancipation from the slavery of orthodoxy. "

"Yes, " said Aldington, "I wish to add my plea too, and against theslavery of a lot of things: against the slavery of courts and bad lawsand bad thoughts and poverty, and the whole business which we can seegrowing up in America, and making laws to stimulate it and protect it. "

CHAPTER LIX

I was now more lonely than I had ever been in my life, more lonely thanI was on the farm. Then I had youth and expectation of wonderful things. I had ebullient spirits which were excited by simple things, the newcountry, the prospect of growing rich. Now my spirits were on the levelof the prairie itself and I could look over the whole of life. I hadnothing in particular with which to employ my energies except takingcare of the riches that I had acquired. Riches had no meaning to me now. They brought nothing that moderate means would not buy. What I neededwas some one in my life. I had lost Dorothy. My boy was away at school. Isabel was denied me. If she had only rejected me so that my will hadbeen raised against her. Then I should have had passion for my thoughtand action. But it was with gentleness and understanding that she bademe adieu. 

Douglas was left to me, but what could he do for me or I for him? He hadbeen my friend with that loyalty which characterized him from the timethat he had taken me from the clutches of the law for killing Lamborn. We had seen much of each other along the way. Did loneliness ever comeover him? He had married again, but was he happy? He was living a lifeof much social brilliancy with the new Mrs. Douglas in Washington. Butwas he happy? Or was he drowning disappointment, the tragic sense oflife's inadequacy, in abandoned diversions?

Like myself, he had wished for riches and attained them. He had lost hisriches. I still possessed mine. But I was no happier for that. He hadmarried a woman who was a slave owner. On my part, I had been madekindred to the slave blood by the marriage of my father. He wished forland, for wealth, and had taken a purse to marry an octoroon. Douglashad wished for land for his country and had paralleled the course of theslavocracy to get it. I had killed a man because of Zoe; then Zoe haddisappeared and a part of the accursed land which had come to me throughmy father had passed to the unknown Fortescue, who had appeared anddisappeared from my life like a thief. I had married Dorothy because mywill drove me to it in overcoming her opposition to the fact of Zoe. Ihad loved Isabel and lost her. Douglas had loved the North and the GreatWest. Was he to lose them?

Thus Douglas and I seemed to have arrived at the same place in life. Hewas broken in fortune and without a party. I was burdened with what moreand more seemed to me a tainted fortune. And I was as isolated as hewas. I could not help but think of him constantly, of his long years oflabor, his great struggles, his heroic fight, his undaunted courage. Could anything lift him out of his complication to honor and freedom?He was the most talked of man for the Presidency. If he could only winthat now and stand as a master man for nationalism, union, progress, peace, popular sovereignty, all the great liberties for which he hadbattled. He had already failed twice to be nominated. If now he couldnot win the prize, what would be his future as against the growing powerof the Republican party?

As my heart was set upon Douglas' ambition I set off for Charleston, South Carolina, in April. Anything to alleviate my regret over Isabel. 

When I arrived there I sought Douglas and found him deep in consultationwith his advisers. He was unmistakably confronted with the severestcontest of his life. He was delighted to see me and got me admission tothe convention hall. I had tried to come as a delegate; but Illinois hadsplit in a fight over her own son, and there were two delegations, onefor and one against Douglas. And I could be on neither. 

Douglas' birthday, April the 23d, saw the opening of the fatefuldeliberations. He was destined to have no peace and no rest. Othersmight find shelter from the storm. He was compelled after his greatlabors in the years before to walk through the lightning and have itgather about his head. His doctrines on slavery had alienated the wholeSouth from him. But he had the West, save California and Oregon, whichacted with the South. Yet he was their son too. He had strength allthrough the North, because of the West. That West which he had done somuch to create, which he had prophesied would stand as a balance betweenthe North and the South, was for its son and its prophet--saveCalifornia and Oregon. 

But of the whole thirty-three states, seventeen were against him. TheWest fought the South and fought for Douglas. The South made a commoncause of opposition to the North and the West. But the new Giant putthrough the Douglas principles in the platform. 

Then Alabama, Mississippi, South Carolina, Florida, Texas, and Arkansasseceded from the convention. The West had won but it had lost the South. And now in the balloting Douglas could not be nominated. He needed 202votes, he could only poll 152-1/2. The heat grew intense. The delegates, trying to accommodate their interests, wandered about the old citytalking seriously and not excitedly. There was little drinking. Thelocal clergy offered up prayers for the success of the convention, forpeaceful solutions. Balloting and balloting! No choice! The twenty-thirdof May arrived and the convention, exhausted and half disgusted, adjourned to meet in Baltimore, June 18th. Douglas had not beennominated. His party had split just as the Republicans had anticipatedwhen they were congratulating themselves on Douglas' success in theSenatorial contest with Lincoln. 

Meantime, the seceders went to another hall, adopted a platform thatsuited them on the slavery matter, and nominated John C. Breckenridge. 

I did not go up to Baltimore to see the end of this melancholybusiness. I followed the proceedings in the press. Delegates from thestate delegations which had seceded appeared there on the scene to gainadmission. They were admitted where pledged to Douglas; upon thisdecision a second secession took place. Then they nominated Douglas; buthe was now like a runner who has been tripped along the way, and whostumbles spent and breathless over the goal. He had conjured the West. It was strong enough to adopt his principles, but it could not preventthe convention from dividing. It could nominate him, but could not holdto him the states he needed in this, his greatest trial. And among hisbitterest enemies was that Jefferson Davis whom I had seen in theMexican War and who was now Senator from Mississippi. My hatred of theSouth nearly reached self-contempt for the way in which my life had beenunited to its feeling. All my thinking of the country and the terribleevents which followed the monumental folly of not giving Douglas aunited nomination dates from these days. 

On my way west I read in the press of the verbal clash between thisJefferson Davis and Douglas in the Senate. With an insulting inflectionDavis had said: "I have a declining respect for platforms. I wouldsooner have an honest man on any sort of a rickety platform you couldconstruct than to have a man I did not trust, on the best platform whichcould be made. "

Douglas had retorted with telling effect: "If the platform is not amatter of much consequence, why press that question to the disruption ofthe party?"

Why? But the South had done it. And Davis had done it. 

CHAPTER LX

Who should call upon me the next morning after my arrival in Chicago butYarnell? I had not seen him now for several years. And he was a delegateto the Republican convention. 

"How is this?" I asked him. "I remember yet what you said to me aboutslavery when we came to America more than twenty-five years ago. " "Oh, "he replied, "that makes no difference. The Republican party is not goingto disturb slavery where it is. It only proposes to keep it out fromwhat it isn't. The platform will refer to the Declaration ofIndependence, and all that. But it will also have a tariff plank. TheDemocrats have beaten the Morrill tariff bill; and we want atariff--Pennsylvania wants a tariff for iron. And we will nominateSeward and elect him. "

"What if the Southern States secede?"

"That suits us. That will give the Republican party complete control. With the Southern States out, we will have the Senate and the House aswell as the President, and we can dominate everything, and gather in allthe offices--postmasters, marshals, Federal judges, everything. Thenorthern Democrats will have nothing to say. Your friend Douglas willhave nothing to say. He is already a played-out horse. He won't be ableto even whinny in the Senate. And the world and the fullness thereofwill be ours. "

"How about Seward being too radical?"

"No, he isn't. Look at what it comes to. Kansas will come in as a freestate. The work is already done for that. California came in as a freestate. Minnesota, Oregon, Wisconsin, have all come in as free statesunder the Democratic party and with Douglas on top as Senator. Therewon't be any more slave states no matter who is elected. "

"That's what I think. "

"I only say this to show that this talk of the radicalism of Seward isnonsense. He spoke of the higher law, to be sure, but Douglas has beentalking of nature and nature's God. What's the difference?"

"No difference except that Douglas' law of nature means something andthe higher law means nothing. We can see what the law of nature is; wedon't know what the higher law is, unless you can fathom the mind of thefanatic; of Thoreau, of John Brown, and Garrison. I will tell yousomething: Lincoln of this state is not so far apart from Douglas. Hehas rejected the higher law of Seward in a recent letter. He is for theirrepressible conflict, because it is the same thing as the housedivided against itself. He must stand by his own doctrine--and theBible. He is as practical as Douglas. "

"That's the point, " said Yarnell. "The Abolitionists don't like Lincoln. He said right here in the debates that he was not in favor of givingthe nigger a vote or making him a citizen. He isn't for the Declarationof Independence when it comes to things like that. But he is of nomoment. He's not known. He's only a local man. He's a country jake, isn't he?"

"Rather so. "

"That's what I hear. He's had no experience. Seward, you know, has beenGovernor of New York, and Senator. He's a famous man. The politicalmachine is back of him, and lots of money in New York City. "

Then Yarnell went on to tell me that he himself was connected with thestreet railways in New York, and that the railways were backing Seward. Wall Street, however, was a little nervous. It didn't want any manelected President who would drive the South into secession. No use tolet iron drive out cotton. Let us have both cotton and iron. 

We went out to walk through the city. Yarnell was amazed at the growthof Chicago. We wandered over to the Wigwam where the convention was tobe held. It was a huge frame structure, seating ten thousand people. Thecity was swarming with delegates and visitors. All the hotels werefilled; the saloons roared with drinking crowds. How many thousandcigars were lighted every minute! Stubs decorated the floors, thespittoons, the sidewalks. The houses of ill fame were riotous with menlet loose upon a holiday. 

At the Richmond House there was much champagne, for that was theheadquarters of the New York crowd. Yarnell took me here and introducedme about to his friends. He was well known. He had money for theoccasion, and was esteemed in that light. It was a different crowd herefrom that I had seen in St. Louis years before, but its spirit was thesame. "If you don't nominate Seward, where will you get your money?"Yarnell was saying this here and there. Some one at our side says: "Thisrailsplitter Lincoln, who carries the purse for him?" "The tariffcarries it, " is the answer. "There's more money in the tariff than allthat Seward can rake together. " "Very well, Seward is for the tariff. Give us the tariff and Seward, then we will have the tariff money andSeward's money too. "

Yarnell and I left the Richmond House on our way to look again at thecrowds. Bands of music were playing everywhere. Men were marching. TomHyer, the great prize fighter, was leading a club of rough and handymen. They were preceded by a noisy band. They shouted. The staring crowdshouted. Hyer had come for the purpose of lifting a lusty voice forSeward at the critical moment. He and his men had good fists too to usein a case of doubt on a question of votes or of a right of entrance tothe hall. They pass, the band dies away; other marchers follow. Someparaders are carrying rails bearing the banner with the words "HonestOld Abe" That reminds me of something. We go over to the office of the_Chicago Times_ to see in the windows some rails which Lincoln splitwhen he was working on the bottoms of the Sangamon River, thirty yearsbefore. 

"I should think Greeley would be for Lincoln, " I said to Yarnell. "I sawthe _Tribune_ yesterday and it slants toward Edward Bates of Missouri. "

"That old slicker, " sneered Yarnell. "Why who can depend on him? He'sbeen for every one and everything, and then against them. He hatesSeward. We kept him off the New York delegation. Now he's got on thedelegation from Oregon, got some one's proxy, and he's here to maketrouble. But it won't do him any good. We will put Seward over on thefirst ballot. "

We came to the _Times_' window and looked at the rails. "Well, " I said, "if they nominate Lincoln, we'll have another log-cabin campaign. "

"Yes, that's what it will come to. What's all this talk anyway aboutHonest Old Abe? Every man is honest enough, and no man in politics muchmore honest than another. We don't need that kind of dramatics to electSeward. There is enough to the man to elect him. We mean to have aclean-cut, high-toned campaign with a great man to lead us, who is knownto the whole country. The day is past for this log-cabin business. It'snow a stone front and champagne. "

I went back with Yarnell to the Richmond House, then turned my own wayto study the crowds. Chicago was a carnival of unlicensed spirits. Whatthousands of blue flies already swarmed upon the fresh carcass of thisnew political party! A few years before and it was poor, but of fleshthat was fresh. Now it was beginning to stink. Tariffs, railroads, allpowerful moneyed interests, special privileges, were settling upon it, blowing it full of eggs. All the old Whigs now long hungry, the oldFederalists in disguise, the old plotters and schemers long defeated, were here. The motley elements that Douglas had derided asanti-Masonics, Know-nothings, Abolitionists, Spiritualists, where werethey? Sunk in silence, out shouted, out talked, outnumbered by officeseekers and monopolists. Tom Hyer was bawling, Garrison could not beheard. The New England manufacturers were here. Whittier was singingtheir songs and did not know it. I began to think of Rabelais, and oflife as gluttony, eating and drinking, digestion and evacuation. I had avision of all these hordes of men dead at last, their buttocks exposedto driving rains, upturned to a dark sky which breathed futility andcontempt upon ended plots and hungers!

That night I started out again with Abigail and Aldington. There had notbeen anything like the same amount of drinking at Charleston. Harlotsstaggered through the streets, their arms interlocked with those ofhowling men. Tom Hyer passed, leading his gang of toughs, the gaylyliveried band swelling the air with great horns and drums. Again therails and banners for "Honest Old Abe. " Rumors caught us as we passed:the Germans were for Lincoln; Greeley wanted Douglas elected Presidentand was scheming to defeat Seward for the nomination. We went to theRichmond House. I wanted Abigail and Aldington to see the smoking, drinking, gabbling delegates from New York. We ran into Yarnell. He waspreoccupied, and was a little in drink. He stood with us for a moment, and then was buttonholed and taken away. We returned to the streets towatch the marchers. 

Yarnell was good enough to get tickets for Abigail, Aldington, and me, asking us with a half smile not to cheer for any one unless we cheeredfor Seward. 

It was in the air that Seward would be nominated. Greeley said so, buthe was really fighting Seward. We spied the bald head and bespectacledeyes of the great editor moving about the Oregon delegates. The tumultand the passion of the Charleston convention were not as dramatic asthis. These men were here to destroy the Democratic party, to takecontrol of the government. The air was of concentrated passion and will. There was a declaration of principles to be formulated out of sagacityand dramaturgy. Principles were to be observed but baits to be dangled;factions were to be conciliated, relative claims adjusted; the higherthought of the nation respected; radicalism tickled but not embraced;wrong censured, but needless offense avoided. Hence state rights got asop; the tariff was advocated and the Pacific railroad; the harmlessDeclaration of Independence was quoted at large. Everybody had used itfor more than eighty years--why not this platform?

The balloting begins. The expectation is intense. All of us have caughtthe crowd spirit, the infection of the mob. New England is polled first. What is the matter? She does not give Seward the fully expected vote. Very well! New York is reached. William M. Everetts, hook-nosed anddished of mouth, plumps New York seventy votes for Seward. Theconvention recovers from its fear. All is going well for Seward afterall. What of Pennsylvania and her tariff? She has fifty-seven votes;fifty and one half of these go to a favorite son, Simon Cameron. This isa mere compliment; Pennsylvania will come to Seward now that herfavorite son has been honored. Illinois is reached and votes forLincoln. There are cheers. But he is the favorite son of Illinois. Theseare his people. The next ballot they will go to Seward. Indiana isreached. All of her vote goes to Lincoln. There are great cheers. ButLincoln split rails once in Indiana. This is a complimentary vote too. Ohio is reached. She has two favorite sons, Chase and McLean. Missouriis reached. Edward Bates is her son and gets the vote. What is this voteof Virginia, --fourteen votes out of her twenty-three for Lincoln? Someone near us whispers: "The South hates Seward worse than any one. "

At last the whole vote is announced: Seward has 173-1/2; Lincoln 102. The Illinois River breaks loose; the great shouter for Lincoln, hiredfor the occasion, storms and bawls above the hubbub of the convention. Where is Hyer the prize fighter? He has been out with his gang. Drinking? We do not know. At any rate he is late, has missed one of thepsychologies of the convention. After the noise is subsided, we hearthat Bates, Greeley's favorite, has forty-eight votes. "Call the roll!""Call the roll!" shout hundreds of delegates. Men are going mad withanxiety. Arms are waved frantically, delegates rise from their seats andbawl undistinguishable words. Curses and hisses fill the air. The secondballot begins. Why does Pennsylvania deliberate, why does she retire sooften to consult her wishes? There is laughter over it. She changes hervote now. Her favorite son, Cameron, gets two; forty-eight go toLincoln. What is the matter with Seward? We had heard there was plentyof Seward money in Pennsylvania. Yarnell had told me so. Why doesn't themachinery work? Ohio falls off seven votes for Chase; Bates losesthirteen of his Missouri votes. Vermont throws her whole vote toLincoln, and the Stentor from the Illinois River bottoms raises athunder of applause. But Tom Hyer has now arrived and the Seward chorusis working. 

The vote is announced: Seward has 184-1/2; Lincoln 181; necessary to achoice, 233. Seward is ruined. Tom Hyer is down. The band, the bannersare for nothing. All the Seward money is for nothing. To be Governor, Senator, the leading man of the party for years, the great debater ofthe Senate, the author of the irrepressible conflict, the most dreadedenemy of the South--all this goes up and out in a second like a poorsulphur match in a gale. Seward is ruined. A country lawyer fromSpringfield, Illinois, once a state legislator, once a Congressman, haskilled him in two blows. What has done it? The irrepressible conflict. It has crushed him before it crushed many more, old and young throughoutthe land. He is too famous. His words are too well known. The housedivided against itself is not so well known. Lincoln is obscure. He is atrim new champion of fifty-one years of age, ready after some fifteen ormore years of resting and training, for a great fight. 

Yet may not Greeley's Bates still come in? A horse not so swiftlyrunning before now has a chance. Where would Seward's strength be thrownnow that he cannot use it for himself? Can he throw it to any one? No!For the third ballot gives Seward 180 and Lincoln 231-1/2. But Seward isstill holding on. Ohio has been sticking to Chase. The vote is notannounced by the chair. But hundreds of pencils have kept the score. Andjust about as it is to be announced, Ohio throws four votes from Chaseto Lincoln. Lincoln is nominated! The West of Douglas has won. 

The convention goes mad. The Illinois River roars like waters over athousand dams. Lake Michigan shouters make the rafters tremble. A cannonis fired from the roof. But no one inside hears it. We go forth to thestreet. Masses are yelling and crying with delight. Old Abe fromIllinois is nominated. Chicago is delirious with joy. From the TremontHouse a hundred guns are fired. Processions start; everywhere men arebearing rails. Bands play. Drink flows like sudden freshets. Yarnellpasses at a distance. He is staring straight ahead, hurrying somewhere. What is left for Seward, for his supporters? Virginia had been bought, why didn't she deliver? Ohio was fingered for Seward. Why didn't Ohioyield? Pennsylvania had taken quantities of Seward money. Why thisingratitude? What nominated Lincoln? The Seward men have an answer. 

The madness of the crowd for railsplitting! The log-cabin tradition!Genius and statesmanship have been set aside for a popular symbol, railsplitting. A party of moral ideas has reverted to claptrap. Theseare the bitter comments of Seward's beaten army. Then there are cursesfor Greeley. Greeley has avenged Seward's lifetime enmity. He hasslaughtered the great man of the party. Why? The old traitor wantsDouglas elected. 

CHAPTER LXI

The press comments of the country on Lincoln's nomination wereexceedingly conflicting. He was written of as the man whom Douglas hadbeaten two years before, and without other distinction; as lacking inculture, in every way inferior to Seward; as a whangdoodle stump speakerof the second class, and without any known principle. What is this talkof Old Abe Lincoln, Old Uncle Abe, Honest Abe Lincoln? Was he not a logroller in the Illinois legislature of 1836? Had he not been driven fromposition to position by Douglas in the debates? What is honest about himabove other men? Why a nomination on the strength of a deceivingnickname? Is he not for the tariff and loose construction? Has he notbeen a Whig with all the humbuggery of that party, of log cabins andimperial practices?

The Republican press was more favorable. He was hailed as a man of thepeople, sprung from the people. On a hurried visit with Douglas, he toldme that Lincoln was as able as any man the Republicans had, abler farthan Seward; and of great integrity, though he loathed Lincoln'spolitical faith. "I'll carry nearly every northern state against him, "said Douglas. "The Union must be saved. I know the South. They willsecede if Lincoln is elected. It's utter madness of them to think ofthis; but mad they are. We must handle them accordingly. Wall Street, New York, is afraid of Lincoln. They don't want their business disturbedby secession or even by a hostile South. Cotton is that strong. "

Douglas was full of fight and energy. He intended to canvass the entirecountry. He was going into the South to point out the dangers of adivided country. "They are terribly mad at me down there. But I havenever feared an audience yet. I intend to face them--and win them. "

No Presidential nominee had ever made a speaking tour before. Lincolnstayed quietly in Springfield. Seward made a speaking campaign, traveling on a special train. At Springfield he stayed in his car anddid not show Lincoln the courtesy of calling upon him. Lincoln, withoutstanding on any pride, went to see Seward, edging his way through thecrowd to the car. 

Douglas fought everywhere to the last. If in his Senatorial days andbefore he had been complaisant to the slavocracy, the Charlestonconvention would not have seceded from him. His course now in thecampaign silenced men like Hale and Seward who had nagged him for yearswith their depreciations and suspicions. He went into Virginia and therewhile speaking he was heckled by a Breckenridge follower. He was askedif the Southern States would be justified in seceding if Lincoln shouldbe elected President. "No, " thundered Douglas. "The election of a manto the Presidency of the American people, in conformity to theConstitution of the United States, would not justify any attempt atdissolving this glorious confederacy. "

"But if the Southern States secede upon the inauguration of Lincoln, before he commits an overt act against their rights, would you advise orvindicate resistance by force to their secession?" If Douglas had everprostituted his mind to the South, now was the time to do it again. Butthis was his answer:

"I answer that it is the duty of the President of the United States andall others in authority under him to enforce the laws of the UnitedStates as passed by Congress and as the court expounds them. And I, asin duty bound by my oath of fidelity to the Constitution, would do allin my power to aid the government of the United States in maintainingthe supremacy of the laws against all resistance to them, come from whatquarter it might. The President should meet all attempts to break up theUnion as Old Hickory treated the nullifiers in 1832. "

What of the right of revolution? Douglas conceded that, but insistedthat the election of Lincoln would not be "such a grievance as wouldjustify revolution, or secession. "

I believed this too. Upon large ground if the South had the right tohold the negroes in slavery, the North would have the right to hold theSouth in the Union. If the South wanted to stuff fate into a smallpocket of logic and allow their narrow bigotry to get the better oftheir reason, I was in favor of licking them in the name of sport and injustification of Darwin's law of the survival of the fittest. 

Douglas, in spite of threats against his life, went into the Far Southappealing to them to consider the dangers ahead. The Democratic partywas hopelessly divided. Some partisan newspapers were carrying twotickets on the editorial page. Others were fighting Douglas bitterly;others supporting with fierce energy Breckenridge of Kentucky. Many werescheming with a view to the contingency that the election would be a tieand that the House of Representatives, in making the choice, wouldselect Douglas. 

Chicago was a whirlpool of excitement. In the middle summer AlbertEdward, Prince of Wales, traveling in America as Baron Renfrew, came toChicago on his way hunting in Illinois. The fate of the nation was apassing play to him. While he was here he was a greater object ofinterest than either Douglas or Lincoln. We heard that he was to standon the balcony of his hotel to watch the political parades of theevening. Mr. Williams and I went forth to see the future King ofEngland. 

The city was thronged with people. Bands were playing everywhere. TheWide-awakes, a Republican organization, were out in force marching assoldiers, dressed in glazed caps and capes, carrying torches. Mottoesand transparencies were borne aloft by hundreds. "Free soil for freemen. " "No more slave territories. " "We do care whether slavery is votedup or down. " "Abraham Lincoln cares"--these were the banners. Andeverywhere the banner "Protection to American Industries. " Men carriedrails. The crowds cheered and roared. And Baron Renfrew looked on, surrounded by his entourage and a few of the élite of Chicago. We staredup into his face. Did he smile, approve? Was he greatly interested? IfAmerica should divide it would be better for England. We saw him turnand smile as he evidently spoke to one of his party. 

Then a parade of Douglas men passed. They too carried banners. "LittleGiant. " "Ever Readies. " "Cuba Must Be Ours. " "We want none but white menat the helm. " "We want a statesman, not a railsplitter for President. ""Free Trade"--these were the Douglas mottoes. We turned at last and madeour way through the crowd. Hawkers were selling railsplitter pins, Honest Abe pins. The streets were a medley of noise, confusion; thesidewalks were blocked. Drunken men, eager men pushed their way through. Bands played. Far off a stump speaker's voice could be heard. All thiswaste of sand and scrub oak which I had seen in 1833 was now coveredwith buildings big and little. It was the battleground between two sonsof Illinois. 

October came. I grew more and more apprehensive for Douglas' fate. I hadhad a letter from Isabel gently foreshadowing her marriage. My boy wasnot advancing in his work at school. Inexorable loneliness wasdescending upon me. 

Douglas came to Chicago on a speaking trip. He had been in Indianapoliswhere his voice was so hoarse that he could scarcely be heard. Chicagogave him a magnificent ovation. They saw the man now in all hisclearness of mind and strength of heart. He repudiated the schemes offusion. 

"Every disunionist, " he said, "is a Breckenridge man. As Democrats, wecan never fuse either with northern Abolitionists or southern boltersand secessionists. Yes, my friends, I say to you what I said in NorthCarolina and in the same words: I would hang every man higher than Hamanwho would attempt to resist by force the execution of any provision ofthe Constitution which our fathers made and bequeathed to us. You cannotsever this Union unless you cut the heartstrings that bind father toson, daughter to mother, and brother to sister in all our new states andterritories. I love my children, but I do not desire to see them survivethis Union. "

With these words his tired and broken voice fell back into weakness fromthe great melody and power of its habitual quality. His weary body hadrisen into fresh strength for this utterance. His face assumed a greatmajesty. Men and women alike wept to hear him speak so--wept for thedark days ahead, wept for a great man failing in a struggle in which hewas yet holding to cherished ideals, now being blown and scattered bythe storm of the new era. They saw him surrounded on all sides byenemies. The South hated him. The northern Democrats with southernideas hated him. The fanatics hated him. The Republican party which hehad stepped upon with giant contempt hated him. In eight years ofexistence it had gathered to itself the contemptible factions that hehad satirized. They had united now in the supreme purpose of defeatinghim. He was appealing for the same principles to which he had alwaysbeen devoted. He was defending the Union as he had defended it since thedays when I saw Jackson put his arm around him, and look with paternalpride in his eyes. He knew the heart and the will of the South. He wastrying to tell it to the North. He felt that his own election wouldprevent disunion. He asked people to believe that he wished to beelected, not to gratify his personal ambition, but for the sake of theUnion. 

It was all in vain. The avalanche, loosened years before by strayadventurers building fires for their little kettles, and runningthoughtlessly over weakened attachments, was now moving down on Douglasand the Union. The October election showed that he was defeated. Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana were carried by the Republicans in thestate elections. Douglas was speaking in the South. His life had beenthreatened. An attempt was made to wreck his train. In Alabama he wasshowered with missiles. Not a northern paper published these shamefulinsults, which if published would have won him many friends in theNorth. Amid dangers and discouragements he went on to the end. 

He was in Mobile when the news of Lincoln's election reached him. Before leaving Alabama he did what he could to prevent that state fromseceding. 

Undismayed, he went on to New Orleans. There he addressed the businessmen, pointing out to them that Lincoln would have a hostile Senate onhis hands if the South would only remain in the Union; that Lincolncould carry out no abolition or unfriendly policy toward the Southwithout a Senate; that all of Lincoln's appointments would have to beconfirmed by the Senate. All of these things he said to dissuade theSouth from secession. When they would not be persuaded, he tore the maskfrom their faces and told them directly that Lincoln's election was onlya pretext for those who wished to set up a Southern Confederacy. 

Lincoln was elected. But Douglas was not dishonored. He had achieved agreat personal triumph. He had polled 1, 357, 157 votes in the countryagainst Lincoln's 1, 866, 452. In Illinois he had polled 160, 215 votes toLincoln's 172, 161--in spite of New England and the Germans. He hadreceived 163, 525 votes from the South against Lincoln's 26, 430. But hehad lost to Breckenridge or Bell fourteen southern states. Protectivetariff Pennsylvania had given Lincoln 268, 030 and Douglas 16, 765. Protective tariff Massachusetts had given Lincoln 106, 533 and Douglas34, 372. Douglas had fought the South, he had fought against thedisadvantage of a divided party, he had fought the protective tariff, yet Lincoln had polled but a little more than 500, 000 votes more thanhe had. No use to say that the populace does not understand questions ofgovernment or that they cannot rise to high justices and rewards. Douglas' personal triumph had been great, but his remarkable popularsupport shrunk to an insignificant twelve votes in the electoralcollege. He was vanquished and I was more deeply depressed than I hadever been in my life. Lincoln was elected!

And the South seceded. 

CHAPTER LXII

It is war! Mars has descended. The irrepressible conflict has taken thesword. The house divided against itself is in the last contest to seewhether there shall be two houses or one. The devils are now to be castout, not by Satan but by the Lord mighty in battle, great in anger. Grapes of wrath are to be treaded now, and a furious wine drawn from thebroken flesh of men hitherto growing peacefully on peaceful stems, Northand South. 

Douglas wishes without ostentation to make himself clear in hisfriendship and support of Lincoln. No envy, no pique, no chagrin. He hasoften prophesied this war. For years he has warned the country againstsectionalism. He does not now say, I told you so. The war has come. Heis for the North, as he told the South he would be if elected himself. He is against disunion with all his heart. His health is broken; he hasno future on this earth except to work to bring peace, and to win theSouth to save the Union. And he labors like a Titan to these ends. 

I waver in my plans to go to Washington to see Lincoln inaugurated. Inany event I shall devour the report of the proceedings. I cannot keep mymind off the event. I cannot wait to see Douglas to express to him mygreat admiration, my deep affection. Yet I fear he is beyond the reachof such things. What does he care whether I admire him or not, orwhether any one loves him or not? Such things cannot touch him now. ButI would see him again. And I would see Lincoln too. 

On the morning I am to start I leave my house in Chicago; then I returnto my porch and think, holding my satchel. I start again, force myselfto go. I drag myself on to the train. Things are changed now. I can goby rail all the way. No need of boats and canals in this late Februaryof 1861. 

Washington is in a thrill. It is expected that the crack of a rifle froma tree or a housetop will fell the tall Lincoln from Illinois, as hefaces the crowd to take the oath of office. But all was peace. The Southonly intended to go its way and let Lincoln do what he could, ifanything. I stood with the rapt mass close to the stand where I couldsee every face on the platform. Lincoln came, Douglas came. Douglas wasgiving notice to the country that he was hand in hand with Lincoln forthe Union. 

Lincoln has no place to put his tall silk hat, brand new for thisoccasion. Douglas, gallantly not seriously, thoughtfully not showily, with grace and taste, takes Lincoln's hat and holds it while Lincolnreads his inaugural address. 

Lincoln is now becomingly dressed. He is past fifty-two; no gray hairs, no beard, looks clean shaven and youthful, like a man of thirty, prematurely old. He is swarthy, wrinkled. He is powerful, rested, self-possessed, masterful. The cadence of his voice is full of kindnessand conciliation. Its rhythms speak in sympathy and respect for thefeelings of every one. Some of his words move me like great music. Hesays in closing so clearly, so beautifully, sounding as of silvertrumpets blown by archangels:

"The mystic chords of memory stretching from every battle field andpatriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broadland will yet swell the chorus of the Union when again touched, assurely they will be touched, by the better angels of our nature. "

I see Pinturicchio in his face. I hear the reverberations of Beethoven'sdreams in his voice. This man is kindred to the greatest souls. 

I know about the mystic chords myself. I have been in battle. I foughtfor Texas. Be that cause good or bad, it has now blossomed in me for theUnion. I have followed Douglas for nationalism and progress. I am stillwith him, and the more so because Douglas is with Lincoln. 

The crowd is moved. The great event is over. The railsplitter hasdisappeared to that house of state from whence he shall never emergecarefree and happy. And Douglas goes to consult with him, to aid him. 

Lincoln depends now on Douglas, cannot dispense with him. They haveknown each other for a quarter of a century, in that Illinois of theWest which Douglas prophesied would hold the balance of power in anycrisis of the North and the South. That prophecy is fulfilled. It wouldhave been fulfilled by giving Douglas to the Presidency. It had givenLincoln instead; and the prophecy is fulfilled. 

Lincoln shows to Douglas his call for 75, 000 men to put down therebellion. Douglas approves of the wording of the order, but says itshould call for 200, 000 men. He knows the South!

"What do you wish me to do?" he asked Lincoln. Lincoln thinks it wouldbe well if Douglas used his great influence to appeal to doubtfulsections, or wavering peoples. In obedience to this suggestion Douglassets off for Illinois. 

I have preceded him. I know what war means. I know the processes, thepsychologies, the technique. Bands are playing, men are enlisting andmarching in Chicago. Orators are talking, women are singing and sewing. Shrouds and coffins must be made as well as caps and cloaks. Iron mustbe cast, nitrate dug, thousands of laborers set to work to hammer, tonail, to mold, to fashion engines of destruction. Nurses must betrained, for there will be blood to stanch, wounds to dress, and thedying to comfort. That Captain Grant whom I saw in St. Louis years agohas come to Springfield from Galena, left his tannery for the war. He istraining some regiments for the service. Amos, Reverdy's boy, has joinedthe army, and Jonas too. Reverdy writes me about it. Sarah is full ofanger, resentment, terror, and sorrow against this huge thing that hasbroken over her hearth and taken her sons. I am too old to fight. But Ihave money to give. I throw myself into the work with the hope offorgetting myself, my losses, my loneliness, my life. What can I do forDouglas? I have this wealth. He is now broken financially. When hereturns to Chicago I must open my purse to him. What other use have Ifor money but to give it to this war, or to Douglas?

Douglas comes back from southern Illinois where he has been speaking. Heis going to address a Chicago audience. It is not likely that they willhoot him now. After some difficulty I find him. His face lights up witha certain gladness as he sees me. But he is a dying eagle that rufflesits feathers when food is offered it; then sinks back upon its brokenwing when it sees that it cannot eat. What is my friendship now to him?What is any earthly thing to him? He bears the sorrows of earth withoutthe consolation that any Heaven can cure them. His voice is hoarse, hisface is worn and streaked with agony. His eyes look through me, over me, beyond me. He sees me, but what am I? His hair is gray--much grayer thanmine. He is only 48 but he is an old man. He has no place in life nowbut to save the Union. All his strength and activity have come to thissimple faith, as simple as the faith of a child. He reaches back intothe years when he was 21 and first came to Illinois, to that substanceof his being, always inherent and of his genius, which was and is nowcompact of nationalism, progress, intelligence, the firm union ofsovereign states. This is all he has to sustain him now. He has laid upthis food for the last hours, for this crisis of his soul. All soulsmust lay up something spiritual, even as they must lay up food for thewinter of life, for the bleak bright hours of the soul's sterile fight. 

And this old love which led him to Jackson when I was there withDorothy, which led him to Jackson for the great privilege of lookinginto the old hero's face is all that sustains Douglas now. He is poor inpurse but rich in service and love; he can never be President if hewished to be. This new era will take all his devotion, but it will noteven make him Senator again. But what need? The office is nothing now tohim. He has no place politically, except as a leader of all men. He iswithout a party, but he has a country. 

I offer him my purse. He smiles and thanks me. No time now to think ofhis affairs--later perhaps. Something deeper than money friendship isrequired to arouse the depths of him; and only the depths of him areleft. Will I come to hear him speak? I go. 

He is on the heights now. The purest fires leap from his being. Theeloquence of great truths flows from his lips, along the melodious wavesof that voice of thunder. He has become Orpheus; his Isabel is the Unionnow embodied in the strength, the beauty of the North which he hasalways wooed and never won until now. The crowd draws toward him, givesits spirit to him, casts its devotion at his feet. He is on the heights. For Death is near him and Death is the sincerest and most authentic ofinspirers. He has nothing to ask now--only that the Union be saved. Hehas no reproaches for any one except disunionists. He has becomeimpersonal on all things but the Union. I know that the end is near forhim. No one can speak so who is not prompted by Death. 

He has fallen ill at his hotel in this Chicago that he loved and doweredwith a university and linked to the South with a great railroad in theinterests of peace and a firmer Union. I go to see him. Mrs. Douglascannot admit me. He is unconscious of those around him, but his soul isat work. "Telegraph to the President and let the column move on. " "Standfor the Union. " "The West, this great ... "

I go into the mad streets so grief-stricken, so alone. Dorothy is longdead. Isabel is lost to me. My boy is away. My home is haunted withloneliness. I would be rich if Douglas was to be too. Now he is rich, Iam poor; he is poor, I am rich. Men are marching, bugles calling. Thecity roars. At the foot of Clark Street I see the masts of scores ofsailing craft. Chicago has become a great mart. 

The June sky is blue and cool, and great white clouds sail through it soindifferently. They were here when I first came to Chicago; here whenthe French explored the wilderness. Here they are now just the same; andIllinois has more than a million souls, and every heart carries theburden of war. Over them this sky, these clouds. They do not care. 

It seems but a few minutes and the words go about the streets: "Douglasis dead. " The newsboys cry it soon. I am prepared, but the city is not. It is shocked and wounded. Douglas is dead! This voice that spoke to usso lately is stilled. The great man who submerged everything of self ina cause of many is no more. I am dumb, a few tears ooze from my eyes;but on I go through the crowds. Now I shall throw myself more than everinto the work of the war. I pass a theater where speeches are beingmade. From it I hear a voice singing "Annie Laurie. " I stop to look at asign containing the name of Madam Zante. And I go in to hear her sing. Idraw near her to get a seat. It is Zoe!

Zoe! I send up my name by an usher. The word comes back quickly to joinher behind the scenes. There she is waiting for me. And we fall intoeach other's arms and sob. She is all I have left in the world exceptlittle Reverdy. I hold her from me. She is majestic, glorious in thematurity of great beauty, intelligence, art. She has long been a singerof note under this name of Madam Zante. What of Fortescue? She ran awayfrom him. What was the explanation of Fortescue's trick? So far as wecould guess at it, only that he had used the murder of another woman toget the property that he had learned from Zoe that she had inherited. But we had no time to talk of this now. "Come with me, Zoe, to myhouse. " And Zoe came. But she was soon off again to nurse in thehospitals. 

It is November, 1861. Word comes to us that Reverdy's boy, Amos, hasbeen killed in the battle of Belmont. Douglas has now been in sleep fivemonths; now Amos is a sacrifice to the war. He had joined CaptainGrant's army against Sarah's fierce protest. He had gone forth happy andproud. Now he was to rest in the cemetery in Jacksonville near the dustof my father, near the dust of Major Hardin, and Lamborn. 

And so it was that Zoe and I stood side by side touching the dead handof Amos. Sarah was too grief-stricken to be surprised at Zoe'sreappearance in our lives. She wailed incessantly: "What is freeterritory to me? My boy is dead! What is the end of slavery to me? Myboy is dead! There was no use for this war, no use, no use! It needednever to be. If they had only listened to Douglas. What are Lincoln andJeff Davis thinking of? My boy is dead. "

And for nights after returning to Chicago I heard Sarah's voice crying:"my boy! my boy!"

The battle of Gettysburg has been fought. That single thing that makesor destroys every man had come upon General Lee and commanded him tofollow. In his case it was audacity. He had invaded Pennsylvania andbeen hurled back. And not long after I heard that Isabel's husband hadbeen killed in that terrible battle. She did not write me. The silenceof life had come over us. 

I read the Gettysburg address of Lincoln. It moved me like a symphony. But I did not believe it to be true. This government was not conceivedin liberty. It was not dedicated to the proposition that all men arecreated equal. We were not engaged in a strife which tested whether thisgovernment so conceived and so dedicated could survive. The South couldhave set up a separate government and the same liberty and the sameequality which informed the union would have remained intact. Isabel'shusband, and the other thousands who had died there had not consecratedthe ground unless the Union meant something more than a union. It had tomean liberty and more than the emancipation of the negroes for thatground to be consecrated. And a few years later its glory was detractedfrom by the machinations of merchants who grew fat on the blood of thatbattle. And yet I was moved by Lincoln's words more profoundly than byanything that I had ever read. 

CONCLUSION

It is April 23d, 1900. Three hundred and thirty-six years ago to-day aman named Shakespeare was born. He lived with some gnawing at his heart, wrote some plays, and died. He was wise enough, I fancy, to see that thejoke is on those who remain in life, not those who leave it. Eighty-seven years ago to-day Stephen A. Douglas was born. He lived, stormed about these States, talked of great principles, was tossed asideby a squall on the universe of things, and died. It is now thirty-nineyears since he summed up his life's wisdom in the words: "Tell mychildren to obey the laws and support the Constitution. " That was aboutthe summation of Socrates' wisdom, this matter of the laws, as he lay inprison opposite the Acropolis. He refused to walk forth free, except bythe law. If I live until June the eighteenth I shall be eighty-fiveyears of age. On the score of age I should feel much wiser than Douglaswho died at forty-eight and Socrates who died at sixty. I feel that I ama good deal like Shakespeare. I have very little respect for thelaws--at least for the written laws. I am not so sure about the higherlaw, if I am left to determine it. But in truth I am a good deal indoubt as to what is right, and what is wrong, what good and what evil. And I never know what the law is. I have wondered about it all my life. I have thought at times I knew, but I have been for the most partbetrayed and fooled. 

And why not now? Miss Sharpe, delicate, spiritual, active of mind, livesat the boarding house where I do. She thinks I am a fine old gentleman. She likes my society. I am to her taste interesting because I amexperienced. I am richer intellectually than any man could be at anearlier age. She reads to me, often reads to me:

"Grow old along with me, The best is yet to be, The last of life for which the first was made. "

How glorious is old age! She comforts me, makes me contented with mystate at times; she makes me forget how I feel when I rise in themorning, stiff, bewildered, sometimes wondering where I am. She helps meto establish my mind when it thinks of too many things at once, andcannot choose for paltering and fumbling. I walk with a cane; but legsare nothing. The soul is the prize, the flower. My food does not digestitself well; my heart flutters and stumbles; my eyes refuse to work evenwith the best of glasses. The doctor says I have an old man's arteries. I know when my memory falters that it is due to the brain which hasshrunk, and to the incrusted arteries which do not carry enough bloodcells to the brain to give me memory. Still the best is yet to be, andthis is now it. I think the law of old age will get me eventually justas the law of the new era caught Douglas and destroyed him. 

It is thirty years now since the great Chicago fire swept my fortuneaway. I saved one lot out of the wreck. A skyscraper wanted it tocomplete its necessary ground space. So I leased it; and the rentalkeeps me. The lease will be out in 1989--but no matter for that. Between1871 and 1890 I had a hard time of it. I tried to repair my fortune andcouldn't do it. Then the building of skyscrapers struck Chicago, and Icame into an income through this lease. I have a good room at theboarding house and all I wish of everything. Perhaps I shall revise mywill and leave something to Miss Sharpe. I should like to depart fromthe customary bequests to hospitals and colleges. If the Universityfounded by Douglas had not been taken over by the money made by theStandard Oil Company I might give something to it. Some say that theUniversity stands for spiritual hardness, a Darwinian scientific whichdistinguished Douglas, but I am not sure. Yes, I believe I shall revisemy will in favor of Miss Sharpe. Sometimes I suspect that she wants tomarry me. She talks of nothing but the soul, as Isabel did in Rome. I amsure I have plenty of soul. I have no one else to give my money to butMiss Sharpe. My boy died in the middle sixties. 

As for the rest, they are all gone. Zoe and I lived happily togetheruntil the rage of the influenza in 1889; then she died. Mr. Williams, Abigail, Aldington passed away and were buried in a cemetery about amile north of the river. Then their bodies were removed somewhere, forthe cemetery was turned into a park. Lincoln Park it is now. Reverdy, Sarah, gave up the battle years ago. They went to sleep by the side oftheir son, Amos, who was killed in the battle of Belmont. Their otherchildren are scattered to unknown quarters. I know not if they live. 

A strange thing happened yesterday. Mr. Williams' grandson called uponme. He is going to South Africa with a load of mules for the British. Almost every one in America wants the Boers put down. He asked me to goalong and for a moment I took him seriously. The adventurer in me arose. Then I became conscious of my stiff legs. Besides was I ever much of anadventurer after all? Why did I not travel in the splendid forties andthe leisurely fifties? Still I believe I have had as much out of life asCecil Rhodes. He started out to be rich. So did I. He got diamonds andgold. I got land. He wished to see England world-triumphant. I wanted tosee America an ocean-bound republic. I followed Douglas. He was inspiredby Ruskin. For Ruskin had fired young Rhodes at Oxford with these words:"England must found colonies as fast and as far as she is able, formedof her most energetic and worthy men; seizing every piece of fruitfulwaste ground she can set her foot on, and there teaching her coloniststhat their chief virtue is to be fidelity to their country, and thattheir first aim is to be to advance the power of England by land and bysea. "

Accordingly Rhodes had set out to become rich; he plotted the supremacyof England in South Africa. And now there is war on President Kruger ofthe Transvaal, who was at the head of its affairs in the years whenDouglas was settling Oregon and California and talking of popularsovereignty. Gold was discovered there, as it was in California; andthere was a great exodus of English; and now the question is whether theRuskin idea will triumph or Kruger's idea, which is derived from theBible, shall triumph. The Bible is used in many ways and on all sides ofeverything. Kruger is an abolitionist concerned with abolishing GreatBritain. But I think Great Britain will abolish him, and find plenty ofBiblical authority for it. Many sacred hymns will be sung, and God willbe loudly praised when the end comes. 

Rhodes is using his great wealth to assist England in her war againstthe Boer Republic. He has advocated from a youth up the formation of asecret society with the following objects, as expressed by himself: "Theextension of British rule throughout the world.... The colonization byBritish subjects of all lands where the means of livelihood areattainable by energy, labor, and enterprise, and especially theoccupation by British settlers of the entire continent of Africa, theHoly Land, the valley of the Euphrates, the islands of Cypress andCandia, the whole of South America, the islands of the Pacific notheretofore possessed by Great Britain, the whole of the MalayArchipelago, the seaboard of China and Japan, the ultimate recovery ofthe United States of America as an integral part of the British Empire. "

A large lust for land, dwarfing to Douglas' call to American supremacyon the North American continent, the expulsion of Great Britaintherefrom, and from all dominance in the Western Hemisphere. It wasrather costly to Douglas to take over Texas; and the retention of theold land of the Southern States was the nation's crisis which killedhim. For any land-lust that Douglas had, he has paid. Will Rhodes payfor his lust? No, I think he will be paid for it. For he has been asuccess. He has seen his hopes for England all but realized. So far asthe United States is concerned England has recovered it. She rules us intrade, literature, in thought. We elect our own rulers, to be sure; butEngland controls them, though we pay their salaries. 

However, I shall not go to South Africa. I know that I may die in aninstant; and though, if dying at sea, I might sink to the depth, wheresomething of Dorothy remains, I would as soon be reduced to ashes andscattered on the shores of this lake that I have known so long. Thatwould be symbolical of my purposeless and wasted life. 

The day being fine, this being Douglas' birthday, I have come from myboarding house to the little park which bears his name, and wherestands the column to his memory, crowned with a bronze counterfeit ofhim, standing forthright and intrepid, as I have often seen him in life. It is a clear sky with racing clouds that the statue stands against, andI almost imagine it swaying and moving, such is the illusory effect ofthe clouds. I enter the park and rest on a settee looking toward thelake. 

Chicago has now a population of a million and a half--you will observethat this passion for figures remains with me. To the south I can seethe smoke of the steel mills; to the north the towers of granite, tile, and brick of the city, and all between populous quarters. Twenty milesof city north and south; ten miles of city east and west. I am onDouglas' ninety acres, ten of which he deeded to the University ofChicago. Its three-story college building stands to the west of me aboutone half a mile; abandoned now. The acres themselves have passed to aninsurance company on a mortgage. And in the general decay of Douglas'memory and influences this seems fitting enough. 

Of course, the Civil War was waged to free the negro; and to do it itwas necessary to have a protective tariff, which came into being soonafter Lincoln was elected, and has been the policy of the country eversince. Also for this emancipation it was necessary to revive the bank, and this was done during the war. Not long after the war was over--abouttwo years--the trust known as the Standard Oil Company was organized. Its moving spirit endowed the Douglas university and moved it to theMidway Plaisance. It has continued its uninterrupted graduating yearsfrom Douglas' time till now. It is still Douglas' university--at leastas much so as this United States was Douglas' these United States. It isa university built out of tariff privileges and railroad rebates; whileDouglas' university was built from land, which Douglas was foresightedenough to buy in anticipation of Chicago's growth, and the increment invalues produced by the Illinois Central railroad. Douglas was hotlydenounced for crookedness and money grabbing in those days of 1858 bythe Abolitionists and Free Soilers. Indeed much is said now in criticismof Mr. Rockefeller; but I believe it will pass. Besides he is notrunning for office, or trying to found an ocean to ocean republic; andhence criticism does not hurt him so much. 

Below me and down behind a wall the tracks of the Illinois Central roarto the wheels of numerous trains, long trains of ten and twelve cars, sleepers, diners, parlor cars, bound straight for New Orleans and NewYork, either place reached in twenty-four hours from Chicago. I wishDouglas could see this. Still, would he like to know that the publichave no access to the lake at any place where the tracks lie between theshore and this wall? Perhaps he would see that this occupancy correctlyexemplifies the fate that the free-soil doctrine has met with throughoutthe country. 

There are sounds of trowels, voices of workmen behind me. A group ofmasons and laborers is repairing Douglas' tomb; for it is notscrupulously cared for these days. Postprandial orators are frequentlyremarking amidst great acclaim that the hand on the dial of time pointsto Hamilton; and if government is as corrupt as the newspapers say itis, and if Hamilton stood for corruption in government, the hand on thedial undoubtedly points to him. At this moment a young man and womancome to a settee near me. The young woman asks her companion: "Who isthat monument to?" "Douglas, " he answers in staccato. "Who was Douglas?""A Senator or something from Illinois. But why change the subject? Youhave kept putting this off, and I have six hundred dollars saved now, and prospects are good. I would like to be ... " the rest is borne awayby the wind. But I know it is the old theme. Soon his arm encircles hershoulders over the back of the settee. She looks at him and smiles. Itis April! The men are repairing the mortar between the stones ofDouglas' tomb. Two are masons, two are negro helpers. The negroes are asfree as the whites; the whites are no freer than the negroes. They areall wanderers, looking for jobs without settled places, paying board asI do, or living in rented places. One of them may own his house. Somelaborers do, not many. They are like the factory workers, the wholebreed of workers throughout the land. The Civil War did not make themprosperous, or change their real status. It seems that the God ofnature still rules, and that Darwin is his best prophet. These men arefree to work or to starve. Some things have changed. It is no longeragainst the law to send abolition literature through the mail. But it isagainst the law to incite laborers to strike, whether they are white orblack, and it is against the law for laborers, white or black, toorganize themselves into unions. The slave owners were pretty wellorganized once, both financially and politically, but now thecorporations are much better organized than the slave owners were. Thenegro did not dare to rebel against his master. And now the law preventsthe laborer from organizing against the corporation. We have freedomnow, but of a different quality. It has changed its base, but is theremore of it?

A freight train goes by nearly a mile long. It is laden with coal, oil, iron. I can't believe that the soil is free. Coal and oil and iron havetoo much of it. I think of the banners borne in the campaign of 1860, when Baron Renfrew stood that night on the balcony of his hotel. He willsoon be king of England and emperor of India. And some one--either themen who carried those banners or their sons--some one now has a completeoverlordship of this United States. 

Why did not these banners make free men and a free soil? I suspect thatthe banner of protection to American industries was as influential atleast as the free soil banner. It was easy after the war to force theXIV Amendment on the country, to give citizenship to the negro so far ashis color had kept him out of it. It remained for the courts to call thecorporations citizens and to fit to their backs the coat of equalprotection of the laws, which they told us was cut and sewed for thenegro. Hence this long freight train with coal, oil, and iron--all verywell, but where are the free men and the free soil that Reverdy's sondied for?

Cries are now being uttered of capitalistic America. Also they say theSupreme Court is always the mouthpiece of the dominant influence. Thatwas what was said when Taney decided that Dred Scott was not a citizen. "The courts are tools of Satan, the Constitution is a league with Hell, "said Garrison. He burned a copy of the Constitution on a public bonfire. That could be done then, for slavocracy only interfered with free speechin the South. Now it is not so safe to criticize the Supreme Courtanywhere in America. I myself think that coal and iron and oil are morepowerful than cotton ever was, and more permeatingly dominant. It wouldnot do to burn the Constitution anywhere in this United and StandardizedStates. As for mocking the flag, one might be lynched on the spot. 

The Filipinos have taken literally the Declaration of Independence, which is the platform upon which Lincoln was elected; and they arefighting us in the name of Lincoln. We have an army over theresustaining the honor of the flag, under William McKinley, President ofthe United States and Commander in Chief of its Army and Navy. Mr. McKinley was a soldier in the war under Lincoln. He, therefore, knowssomething about military matters. He has demonstrated that he hassomething in his head beyond the theory of protection to Americanindustries. He is demonstrating that he knows how to lift the UnitedStates out of its isolation, and to carry it beyond its place in theWestern Hemisphere with nothing but satellites like the West Indies andHawaii to be trailed by its gravitational movements. Also he learned howto put down rebellion in the Southern States, and that is the samething, of course, as putting down rebellion in the Philippine Islands. We have bought the islands. They are ours. They are farther away, to besure, than Cuba which Douglas wanted for his ocean-bound republic. Butthough farther away, civilization, our duty, and the manifest destiny ofold compel us to hold them. When Alcibiades embarked on his Sicilianexpedition, it was said that Athens itself was sailing out of thePiraeus, never to return. And some think that when Admiral Dewey sailedinto the harbor of Manila with his fleet he took the old America withhim, never to return to these shores; and what was worse, it disappearedthere out of his hands and is lost for good. 

There is China, where we have set up a Federal judge. There is the tradeof the Orient; the Philippine Islands themselves are rich in hemp. Toget land for hemp is different from getting it for cotton--for I amsure hemp makes a better rope with which to strangle liberty. 

But though the Constitution has not reached the Islands, while the flaghas, it may in time reach them. Meantime no mocking of thatperambulating and capricious instrument! It contains the power toacquire islands, or the whole of China, by conquest or treaty; and thepower to govern them as we choose, limited only by our ideas of Justice. It would not do to let them have popular sovereignty, any more than itwould have done in Douglas' day to let Kansas have popular sovereignty. The right to prohibit or allow slavery in a territory goes with theright to extend the Constitution with its XIV Amendment to thePhilippine Islands, or not to extend it--and we have chosen not toextend it. Thus the extra constitutional foundations of the Republicanparty have led to colonialism. 

Douglas, in bronze, looks over the lake to the east--to what? Perhaps tothe hills of Vermont and his youth, when no forecasting angel could havetold him what could come to him and his country. Perhaps he knows nowthat free souls are better than free soil, since he never had much usefor the kind of free soil that was shouted at him. 

This morning's paper has long dispatches about the progress of ourtroops in the Philippines. Perhaps that is the reason why Douglas' backis to the west. Surely he does not mean that he turns his back upon thedomain of Mexico and Oregon. It must be only upon the conquests of thenew capitalism. I am glad, and more than glad, that negro slavery wasabolished. It was nothing but a wooden plow anyway. Our new steel plowswork much better and they have this advantage: they accomplish more, they are in themselves more of slaves, and they are creators of time andof greater wealth. 

There are strikes over the land. Why? Are not men free? Yes, they arefree to choose their work if they know how to do more than one thing, orif they are able to move from the place where they have been employed. But they are not free to organize, to agitate for better wages, or tostrike. What is this matter of freedom after all? It reminds me of thesteps of a stairway. A step consists of a horizontal board and avertical board and then another horizontal board. The first horizontalboard is the present condition, and the second horizontal is the libertythat is desired, the vertical board is the difficulty in the way. Onemust overcome resistance to step up. When he does he has achieved theliberty to which he aspires. But he is standing on the same sort of alevel that he did before. This stairway goes up indefinitely, and atlast becomes lost in the sky of the future, like the beanstalk of Jackthe Giant-killer. All this sounds quite materialistic, and as if I waswithout hope, but I am not materialistic, or despairing of the future. Iknow that matter cannot be explained without resorting to such conceptsas force, causation, action, and reaction. And these are the ideas ofthe mind. And I think of matter and of history in terms of action andreaction. The mind of man is the most wonderful thing that we knowanything about, and its secret is the secret of the universe. Havingnever been happy myself, I am not a disciple of eudemonism; but I seelife as struggle and change; and though I do not know what it means, Iknow thought will not be at rest, that hopes will not cease, and thatdreams of liberty will fascinate the minds of future Lincolns andDouglases. 

The masons are eating their luncheon. I arise to go to Douglas' tomb. The young woman says: "I wonder who that old man is? He has been sittingright there all morning. "

I wonder myself who I am. I take my way feebly up the stone steps to thegrated door of the tomb. I look through. There lies the sarcophaguswhich contains the bones of Stephen A. Douglas. There was no truer, braver man in his time, and no abler. 

I put my spectacles on, for I cannot see well into the tomb. Yes, thereare the words: "Tell my children to obey the laws and support theConstitution. " No, I do not subscribe to that. I believe in liberty andnot law. Douglas' popular sovereignty was more liberty than it was law. These words on his tomb must have been spoken by him with reference tothe preservation of the Union. At any rate I do not believe in thesewords. I accept instead Walt Whitman's admonition to the States: "Obeylittle, resist much. " What shall we obey at all, and where shall weresist? You must decide that for yourself, or ask those about it whostill have the capacity for living. 

I am old. Now I must go to luncheon and then take my afternoon nap.