After crossing the Missouri River I visited some of the principal
settlements in the Territory, such as Atchison, Leaven worth, Lawrence
and Topeka. Lawrence, Topeka and Manhattan were settlements made by men
from free States, and with an eye single to making Kansas a free State.
There was no town located on the Missouri River, and no settlement made
in the counties bordering on the Missouri River, that were properly free
State settlements. I thought this was a mistake. These counties had by
far the largest population, and as these counties would go, the
Territory would go; and I thought that no considerations of personal
danger ought to hinder, that these counties should have respectable
settlements of avowed Free State men among them.
What is now the city of Atchison was then a small village that was being
built among--the cottonwood trees on the banks of the Missouri River,
about twenty miles below St. Joseph, and the same distance above Fort
Leavenworth. It had been named after the notable David R. Atchison, who
had been a Senator from Missouri, and acting Vice-President of the
United States. D. R. Atchison and Gen. B. F. Stringfellow had at this
time won a national notoriety in this struggle now going on in Kansas;
and both were leading members in the Atchison town company. Dr.
Stringfellow was deputed to act as editor-in-chief of the _Squatter
Sovereign_, a paper at that time started in Atchison; but the editor was
Robert S. Kelly. Bob Kelly, as he was popularly called, was a born
leader among such a population as at that time filled Western Missouri.
The towns along the Missouri River were the outfitting points for that
immense overland freighting business, that was at that time carried on
across the western plains, to Santa Fe in Mexico and to Salt Lake,
Oregon and California; and here congregated a multitude of that wild,
lawless, law-defying and law-breaking mob of men, that accompanied these
expeditions, and were the habitues of these western plains, or were
among the gold seekers of California.
Bob Kelly was left an orphan at an early age, and was from his youth
surrounded with such a population. In person he was handsome as an
Apollo, broad-shouldered and muscular, with fair complexion and blue
eyes, and was the natural chief of the dangerous men that were drawn to
him by his personal magnetism. Moreover, he possessed so much native
eloquence, and such an ability to make passionate appeals, as made him a
fit person to fire the hearts of these men to deeds of violence,
I obtained a claim to 160 acres of land, twelve miles from Atchison, and
on the banks of the Stranger Creek. This claim I would be at liberty to
buy, at government price, if I should continue to live on it until it
should come into market. My nearest neighbor was Caleb May, a Disciple,
and a squatter, from the other side of the river. Bro. May was in his
way as much a character as Bob Kelly. He gloried, like John Randolph, of
Roanoke, in being descended from. Pocahontas, and that he therefore had
Indian blood in his veins. Born and reared on the frontier, tall,
muscular, and raw-boned, an utter stranger to fear, a dead shot with
pistol or rifle, cool and self-possessed in danger, he had become known
far and near as a desperate and dangerous man when meddled with. But he
had been converted, and had become a member of the Christian Church, and
according to the light that was in him he did his best to conform his
life to the maxims of the New Testament, and conscientiously sought to
confine all exhibition of "physical force" to such occasions as those in
which he might be compelled to defend himself. Then it was not likely to
be a healthy business for his antagonist.
After securing my claim, and commencing to build a cabin, I began to
look around me. Fully three-fourths of the squatters of this whole
region were from the border counties of Missouri. But in Western
Missouri the percentage of Disciples was perhaps larger than in any
other portion of the United States, consequently I had brethren on every
side of me. These men certainly were not refined and educated men, as
the phrase goes, still they had the qualities that our Lord found in the
fisherman of Galilee.
One thought was in every man's heart, and on every man's tongue. The
name _Squatter Sovereign,_ that had been given to the Atchison
newspaper, indicated the trend of public opinion. They had been
flattered with the idea that if they would come to Kansas they should be
"Squatter Sovereigns," that the domestic institutions of the infant
Territory should be determined not by the nation, nor by Congress, but
by themselves. And yet, when the election day came, every election
precinct in the Territory, except one, was taken possession of by bodies
of men from Missouri, and the elections had been carried, not by _bona
side_ citizens, but by an outside invasion. With pain and shame, and
bitter resentment, my neighbors told me how they had driven their wagons
to the place of voting, on the prairie, and hitched their horses to
their wagons, and were quietly going about their business, when with a
great whoop and hurrah, which frightened their horses and made them
break loose from their wagons, a company of men came in sight, and with
swagger and bluster, took possession of the polls, and proceeded to do
the voting. Meantime whisky flowed like water, and the men, far gone in
liquor, turned the place into a bedlam. In utter humiliation and disgust
many of the squatters went home. Caleb May did not get into the
neighborhood till afternoon. Before he got to the place of voting, he
met Joseph Potter, and on hearing what was done he threw his hat on the
ground, and in a towering rage protested he would no longer vote with a
party that would treat the people of the Territory in such a way as
that. This was done in March, but so far as any public expression of
sentiment was concerned, the people seemed dumb. No public meeting was
called in the way of protest till the next September, and that meeting
was held at Big Springs, sixty miles from Atchison.
But if there was no public protest, there was plenty of it in private.
The men from the State of Missouri grew sick at heart. It was a deep,
unspoken, bitter and shame-faced feeling, for it was their old neighbors
that had done this.
I often asked myself, Can it be hoped that an election can be held that
shall fairly express the real sentiment of the people, if they allow
themselves to be held down under such a reign of terror?
The prevalent sentiment of the squatters from Missouri was, "We will
make Kansas a free white State; we will admit no negroes into it." These
men regarded the negro as an enemy to themselves. They said: "We were
born to the lowly lot of toil, and the negro has made labor a disgrace.
Neither ourselves nor our children have had opportunity for education,
and the negro is the cause of it. Moreover, an aristocracy at the South
has assumed control of public affairs, and the negro is the cause of
that. Now we propose to make Kansas a free white State, and shut out the
negro, who has been the cause of all our calamities."
There was, however, a class of men among them that had pity for the
negro. I will repeat one story, as it was told me by Bro. Silas Kirkham.
Bro. Kirkham belongs to that family of Kirkhams so well known to our
brethren in Southeastern Iowa. Bro. Kirkham was raised in a slave State.
He said: "When I was a boy I had never thought of slavery as being
wrong. There was a black boy in the settlement named Jim. Jim was so
good-natured, faithful and well-behaved that we all liked him. Jim
married a black girl and they had twins--boys--bright, likely little
fellows, and Jim's wife and twin babies were all the treasure he had in
the world."
Bro. Kirkham said: "One day I found Jim in the woods, where he had been
sent to split rails. He was sitting down with his face buried in his
hands, apparently asleep. I thought I would crawl slyly up to him, and
spring suddenly on him, and frighten him. I did so, but Jim was not
asleep at all, but lifted up his head with such a look of unutterable
woe that I was frightened myself, and said: 'Why, Jim, what is the
matter?' Jim cried out: 'O, my boys! my boys! Massa sold my boys!'"
Bro. Kirkham said: "_I_ have vowed everlasting enmity to an institution
that will legalize such treatment of a human being."
But while these ominous mutterings were heard in so many of the Kansas
squatter cabins, little did the high and mighty Atchison Town Company,
or the editorial staff of the _Squatter Sovereign_, or the puissant
Territorial Legislature, reck that so soon they must take up the sad
refrain of Cardinal Woolsey:
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And--when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening--nips his root;
And then he falls, as I do.
The following extract, from an editorial that appeared at this time in
the _Squatter Sovereign_, will show what a rose-colored view these
gentlemen took of the situation:
SLAVERY IN KANSAS.
We receive letters, by nearly every mail, asking our
opinion as regards the security of slave property in
Kansas Territory. We can truly say that no Territory in
Uncle Sam's dominion can be found where the slave' can be
made more secure, or his work command a higher price. Our
slave population is gradually increasing by the arrival of
emigrants and settlers from the slave States, who, having
an eye to making a fortune, have wisely concluded to
secure a farm in Kansas, and stock it well with valuable
slaves. Situated as Missouri is, being surrounded by free
States, we would advise the removal of negroes from the
frontier counties to Kansas, where they will be
comparatively safe. Abolitionists too well know the
character of the Kansas squatter to attempt to carry out
the nefarious schemes of the underground railroad
companies.