Produced by David Widger
THE CRISIS
By Winston Churchill
CONTENTS OF THE ENTIRE SET:
BOOK I
Volume 1.
I. Which Deals With Origins
II. The Mole
III. The Unattainable Simplicity
IV. Black Cattle
V. The First Spark Passes
VI. Silas Whipple
VII. Callers
Volume 2.
VIII. Bellegarde
IX. A Quiet Sunday in Locust Street
X. The Little House
XI. The Invitation
XII. "Miss Jinny"
XIII. The Party
BOOK II.
Volume 3.
I. Raw Material.
II. Abraham Lincoln
III. In Which Stephen Learns Something
IV. The Question
V. The Crisis
VI. Glencoe
Volume 4.
VII. An Excursion
VIII. The Colonel is Warned
IX. Signs of the Times
X. Richter's Scar,
XI. How a Prince Came
XII. Into Which a Potentate Comes
XIII. At Mr. Brinsmade's Gate
XIV. The Breach becomes Too Wide
XV. Mutterings
Volume 5.
XVI. The Guns of Sumter
XVII. Camp Jackson
XVIII. The Stone that is Rejected
XIX. The Tenth of May.
XX. In the Arsenal
XXI. The Stampede
XXII. The Straining of Another Friendship
XXIII. Of Clarence
BOOK III
Volume 6.
I. Introducing a Capitalist
II. News from Clarence
III. The Scourge of War,
IV. The List of Sixty
V. The Auction
VI. Eliphalet Plays his Trumps
Volume 7.
VII. With the Armies of the West
VIII. A Strange Meeting
IX. Bellegarde Once More
X. In Judge Whipple's Office
XI. Lead, Kindly Light
Volume 8.
XII. The Last Card
XIII. From the Letters of Major Stephen Brice
XIV. The Same, Continued
XV. The Man of Sorrows
XVI. Annapolis
THE CRISIS
BOOK I
CHAPTER I
WHICH DEALS WITH ORIGINS
Faithfully to relate how Eliphalet Hopper came try St. Louis is to betray
no secret. Mr. Hopper is wont to tell the story now, when his
daughter-in-law is not by; and sometimes he tells it in her presence, for
he is a shameless and determined old party who denies the divine right of
Boston, and has taken again to chewing tobacco.
When Eliphalet came to town, his son's wife, Mrs: Samuel D. (or S. Dwyer
as she is beginning to call herself), was not born. Gentlemen of Cavalier
and Puritan descent had not yet begun to arrive at the Planters' House,
to buy hunting shirts and broad rims, belts and bowies, and depart
quietly for Kansas, there to indulge in that; most pleasurable of
Anglo-Saxon pastimes, a free fight. Mr. Douglas had not thrown his bone
of Local Sovereignty to the sleeping dogs of war.
To return to Eliphalet's arrival,--a picture which has much that is
interesting in it. Behold the friendless boy he stands in the prow of the
great steamboat 'Louisiana' of a scorching summer morning, and looks with
something of a nameless disquiet on the chocolate waters of the
Mississippi. There have been other sights, since passing Louisville,
which might have disgusted a Massachusetts lad more. A certain deck on
the 'Paducah', which took him as far as Cairo, was devoted to cattle
--black cattle. Eliphalet possessed a fortunate temperament. The deck was
dark, and the smell of the wretches confined there was worse than it
should have been. And the incessant weeping of some of the women was
annoying, inasmuch as it drowned many of the profane communications of
the overseer who was showing Eliphalet the sights. Then a fine-linened
planter from down river had come in during the conversation, and paying
no attention to the overseer's salute cursed them all into silence, and
left.
Eliphalet had ambition, which is not a wholly undesirable quality. He
began to wonder how it would feel to own a few of these valuable
fellow-creatures. He reached out and touched lightly a young mulatto
woman who sat beside him with an infant in her arms. The peculiar dumb
expression on her face was lost on Eliphalet. The overseer had laughed
coarsely.
"What, skeered on 'em?" said he. And seizing the girl by the cheek, gave
it a cruel twinge that brought a cry out of her.
Eliphalet had reflected upon this incident after he had bid the overseer
good-by at Cairo, and had seen that pitiful coffle piled aboard a steamer
for New Orleans. And the result of his reflections was, that some day he
would like to own slaves.
A dome of smoke like a mushroom hung over the city, visible from far down
the river, motionless in the summer air. A long line of steamboats
--white, patient animals--was tethered along the levee, and the Louisiana
presently swung in her bow toward a gap in this line, where a mass of
people was awaiting her arrival. Some invisible force lifted Eliphalet's
eyes to the upper deck, where they rested, as if by appointment, on the
trim figure of the young man in command of the Louisiana. He was very
young for the captain of a large New Orleans packet. When his lips moved,
something happened. Once he raised his voice, and a negro stevedore
rushed frantically aft, as if he had received the end of a
lightning-bolt. Admiration burst from the passengers, and one man cried
out Captain Brent's age--it was thirty-two.
Eliphalet snapped his teeth together. He was twenty-seven, and his
ambition actually hurt him at such times. After the boat was fast to the
landing stage he remained watching the captain, who was speaking a few
parting words to some passengers of fashion. The body-servants were
taking their luggage to the carriages. Mr. Hopper envied the captain his
free and vigorous speech, his ready jokes, and his hearty laugh. All the
rest he knew for his own--in times to come. The carriages, the trained
servants, the obsequiousness of the humbler passengers. For of such is
the Republic.
Then Eliphalet picked his way across the hot stones of the levee, pushing
hither and thither in the rough crowd of river men; dodging the mules on
the heavy drays, or making way for the carriages of the few people of
importance who arrived on the boat. If any recollections of a cool, white
farmhouse amongst barren New England hills disturbed his thoughts, this
is not recorded. He gained the mouth of a street between the low houses
which crowded on the broad river front. The black mud was thick under his
feet from an overnight shower, and already steaming in the sun. The brick
pavement was lumpy from much travel and near as dirty as the street.
Here, too, were drays blocking the way, and sweaty negro teamsters
swinging cowhides over the mules. The smell of many wares poured through
the open doors, mingling with the perspiration of the porters. On every
side of him were busy clerks, with their suspenders much in evidence, and
Eliphalet paused once or twice to listen to their talk. It was tinged
with that dialect he had heard, since leaving Cincinnati.
Turning a corner, Eliphalet came abruptly upon a prophecy. A great drove
of mules was charging down the gorge of the street, and straight at him.
He dived into an entrance, and stood looking at the animals in startled
wonder as they thundered by, flinging the mud over the pavements.
A cursing lot of drovers on ragged horses made the rear guard.
Eliphalet mopped his brow. The mules seemed to have aroused in him some
sense of his atomity, where the sight of the pillar of smoke and of the
black cattle had failed. The feeling of a stranger in a strange land was
upon him at last. A strange land, indeed! Could it be one with his native
New England? Did Congress assemble from the Antipodes? Wasn't the great,
ugly river and dirty city at the end of the earth, to be written about in
Boston journals?
Turning in the doorway, he saw to his astonishment a great store, with
high ceilings supported by columns. The door was stacked high with bales
of dry goods. Beside him was a sign in gold lettering, "Carvel and
Company, Wholesale Dry Goods." And lastly, looking down upon him with a
quizzical expression, was a gentleman. There was no mistaking the
gentleman. He was cool, which Eliphalet was not. And the fact is the more
remarkable because the gentleman was attired according to the fashion of
the day for men of his age, in a black coat with a teal of ruffled shirt
showing, and a heavy black stock around his collar. He had a white
mustache, and a goatee, and white hair under his black felt hat. His face
was long, his nose straight, and the sweetness of its smile had a strange
effect upon Eliphalet, who stood on one foot.
"Well, sonny, scared of mules, are you?" The speech is a stately drawl
very different from the nasal twang of Eliphalet's bringing up. "Reckon
you don't come from anywhere round here?"
"No, sir," said Eliphalet. "From Willesden, Massachusetts."
"Come in on the 'Louisiana'?"
"Yes, sir." But why this politeness?
The elderly gentleman lighted a cigar. The noise of the rushing mules had
now become a distant roar, like a whirlwind which has swept by. But
Eliphalet did not stir.
"Friends in town?" inquired the gentleman at length.
"No, sir," sighed Mr. Hopper.
At this point of the conversation a crisp step sounded from behind and
wonderful smile came again on the surface.
"Mornin', Colonel," said a voice which made Eliphalet jump. And he swung
around to perceive the young captain of the Louisiana.
"Why, Captain Lige," cried the Colonel, without ceremony, "and how do you
find yourself to-day, suh? A good trip from Orleans? We did not look for
you so soon."
"Tolluble, Colonel, tolluble," said the young man, grasping the Colonel's
hand. "Well, Colonel, I just called to say that I got the seventy bales
of goods you wanted."
"Ephum" cried the Colonel, diving toward a counter where glasses were set
out,--a custom new to Eliphalet,--"Ephum, some of that very particular
Colonel Crittenden sent me over from Kentucky last week."
An old darkey, with hair as white as the Colonel's, appeared from behind
the partition.
"I 'lowed you'd want it, Marse Comyn, when I seed de Cap'n comin'," said
he, with the privilege of an old servant. Indeed, the bottle was beneath
his arm.
The Colonel smiled.
"Hope you'se well, Cap'n," said Ephum, as he drew the cork.
"Tolluble, Ephum," replied the Captain. "But, Ephum--say, Ephum!"
"Yes, sah."
"How's my little sweetheart, Ephum?"
"Bress your soul, sah," said Ephum, his face falling perceptibly, "bress
your soul, sah, Miss Jinny's done gone to Halcyondale, in Kaintuck, to
see her grandma. Ole Ephum ain't de same nigger when she's away."
The young Captain's face showed as much disappointment as the darkey's.
"Cuss it!" said he, strongly, "if that ain't too bad! I brought her a
Creole doll from New Orleans, which Madame Claire said was dressed finer
than any one she'd ever seen. All lace and French gewgaws, Colonel. But
you'll send it to her?"
"That I will, Lige," said the Colonel, heartily. "And she shall write you
the prettiest note of thanks you ever got."
"Bless her pretty face," cried the Captain. "Her health, Colonel! Here's
a long life to Miss Virginia Carvel, and may she rule forever! How old
did you say this was?" he asked, looking into the glass.
"Over half a century," said Colonel Carvel.
"If it came from the ruins of Pompeii," cried Captain Brent, "it might be
worthy of her!"
"What an idiot you are about that child, Lige," said the Colonel, who was
not hiding his pleasure. The Colonel could hide nothing. "You ruin her!"
The bluff young Captain put down his glass to laugh.
"Ruin her!" he exclaimed. "Her pa don't ruin her I eh, Ephum? Her pa
don't ruin her!"
"Lawsy, Marse Lige, I reckon he's wuss'n any."
"Ephum," said the Colonel, pulling his goatee thoughtfully, "you're a
damned impertinent nigger. I vow I'll sell you South one of these days.
Have you taken that letter to Mr. Renault?" He winked at his friend as
the old darkey faded into the darkness of the store, and continued: "Did
I ever tell you about Wilson Peale's portrait of my grandmother, Dorothy
Carvel, that I saw this summer at my brother Daniel's, in Pennsylvania?
Jinny's going to look something like her, sir. Um! She was a fine woman.
Black hair, though. Jinny's is brown, like her Ma's." The Colonel handed
a cigar to Captain Brent, and lit one himself. "Daniel has a book my
grandfather wrote, mostly about her. Lord, I remember her! She was the
queen-bee of the family while she lived. I wish some of us had her
spirit."
"Colonel," remarked Captain Lige, "what's this I heard on the levee just
now about your shootin' at a man named Babcock on the steps here?"
The Colonel became very grave. His face seemed to grow longer as he
pulled his goatee.
"He was standing right where you are, sir," he replied (Captain Lige
moved), "and he proposed that I should buy his influence."
"What did you do?"
Colonel Carvel laughed quietly at the recollection
"Shucks," said he, "I just pushed him into the streets gave him a little
start, and put a bullet past his ear, just to let the trash know the
sound of it. Then Russell went down and bailed me out."
The Captain shook with laughter. But Mr. Eliphalet Hopper's eyes were
glued to the mild-mannered man who told the story, and his hair rose
under his hat.
"By the way, Lige, how's that boy, Tato? Somehow after I let you have him
on the 'Louisiana', I thought I'd made a mistake to let him run the
river. Easter's afraid he'll lose the little religion she taught him."
It was the Captain's turn to be grave.
"I tell you what, Colonel," said he; "we have to have hands, of course.
But somehow I wish this business of slavery had never been started!"
"Sir," said the Colonel, with some force, "God made the sons of Ham the
servants of Japheth's sons forever and forever."
"Well, well, we won't quarrel about that, sir," said Brent, quickly. "If
they all treated slaves as you do, there wouldn't be any cry from
Boston-way. And as for me, I need hands. I shall see you again, Colonel."
"Take supper with me to-night, Lige," said Mr. Carvel. "I reckon you'll
find it rather lonesome without Jinny."
"Awful lonesome," said the Captain. "But you'll show me her letters,
won't you?"
He started out, and ran against Eliphalet.
"Hello!" he cried. "Who's this?"
"A young Yankee you landed here this morning, Lige," said the Colonel.
"What do you think of him?"
"Humph!" exclaimed the Captain.
"He has no friends in town, and he is looking for employment. Isn't that
so, sonny?" asked the Colonels kindly.
"Yes."
"Come, Lige, would you take him?" said Mr. Carvel.
The young Captain looked into Eliphalet's face. The dart that shot from
his eyes was of an aggressive honesty; and Mr. Hopper's, after an attempt
at defiance, were dropped.
"No," said the Captain.
"Why not, Lige?"
"Well, for one thing, he's been listening," said Captain Lige, as he
departed.
Colonel Carvel began to hum softly to himself:--
"'One said it was an owl, and the other he said nay,
One said it was a church with the steeple torn away,
Look a' there now!'
"I reckon you're a rank abolitionist," said he to Eliphalet, abruptly.
"I don't see any particular harm in keepin' slaves," Mr. Hopper replied,
shifting to the other foot.
Whereupon the Colonel stretched his legs apart, seized his goatee, pulled
his head down, and gazed at him for some time from under his eyebrows, so
searchingly that the blood flew to Mr. Hopper's fleshy face. He mopped it
with a dark-red handkerchief, stared at everything in the place save the
gentleman in front of him, and wondered whether he had ever in his life
been so uncomfortable. Then he smiled sheepishly, hated himself, and
began to hate the Colonel.
"Ever hear of the Liberator?"
"No, sir," said Mr. Hopper.
"Where do you come from?" This was downright directness, from which there
was no escape.
"Willesden, Massachusetts."
"Umph! And never heard of Mr. Garrison?"
"I've had to work all my life."
"What can you do, sonny?"
"I cal'late to sweep out a store. I have kept books," Mr. Hopper
vouchsafed.
"Would you like work here?" asked the Colonel, kindly. The green eyes
looked up swiftly, and down again.
"What'll you give me?"
The good man was surprised. "Well," said he, "seven dollars a week."
Many a time in after life had the Colonel reason to think over this
scene. He was a man the singleness of whose motives could not be
questioned. The one and sufficient reason for giving work to a homeless
boy, from the hated state of the Liberator, was charity. The Colonel had
his moods, like many another worthy man.
The small specks on the horizon sometimes grow into the hugest of thunder
clouds. And an act of charity, out of the wisdom of God, may produce on
this earth either good or evil.
Eliphalet closed with the bargain. Ephum was called and told to lead the
recruit to the presence of Mr. Hood, the manager. And he spent the
remainder of a hot day checking invoices in the shipping entrance on
Second Street.
It is not our place here to chronicle Eliphalet's faults. Whatever he may
have been, he was not lazy. But he was an anomaly to the rest of the
young men in the store, for those were days when political sentiments
decided fervent loves or hatreds. In two days was Eliphalet's reputation
for wisdom made. During that period he opened his mouth to speak but
twice. The first was in answer to a pointless question of Mr. Barbo's
(aetat 25), to the effect that he, Eliphalet Hopper, was a Pierce
Democrat, who looked with complacency on the extension of slavery. This
was wholly satisfactory, and saved the owner of these sentiments a broken
head. The other time Eliphalet spoke was to ask Mr. Barbo to direct him
to a boardinghouse.
"I reckon," Mr. Barbo reflected, "that you'll want one of them
Congregational boarding-houses. We've got a heap of Yankees in the town,
and they all flock together and pray together. I reckon you'd ruther go
to Miss Crane's nor anywhere."
Forthwith to Miss Crane's Eliphalet went. And that lady, being a Greek
herself, knew a Greek when she saw one. The kind-hearted Barbo lingered
in the gathering darkness to witness the game which ensued, a game dear
to all New Englanders, comical to Barbo. The two contestants calculated.
Barbo reckoned, and put his money on his new-found fellow-clerk.
Eliphalet, indeed, never showed to better advantage. The shyness he had
used with the Colonel, and the taciturnity practised on his
fellow-clerks, he slipped off like coat and waistcoat for the battle. The
scene was in the front yard of the third house in Dorcas Row. Everybody
knows where Dorcas Row was. Miss Crane, tall, with all the severity of
side curls and bombazine, stood like a stone lioness at the gate. In the
background, by the steps, the boarders sat, an interested group.
Eliphalet girded up his loins, and sharpened his nasal twang to cope with
hers. The preliminary sparring was an exchange of compliments, and
deceived neither party. It seemed rather to heighten mutual respect.
"You be from Willesden, eh?" said Crane. "I calculate you know the
Salters."
If the truth were known, this evidence of an apparent omniscience rather
staggered Eliphalet. But training stood by him, and he showed no dismay.
Yes, he knew the Salters, and had drawed many a load out of Hiram
Salters' wood-lot to help pay for his schooling.
"Let me see," said Miss Crane, innocently; "who was it one of them
Salters girls married, and lived across the way from the meetin'-house?"
"Spauldin'," was the prompt reply.
"Wal, I want t' know!" cried the spinster: "not Ezra Spauldin'?"
Eliphalet nodded. That nod was one of infinite shrewdness which commended
itself to Miss Crane. These courtesies, far from making awkward the
material discussion which followed; did not affect it in the least.
"So you want me to board you?" said she, as if in consternation.
Eliphalet calculated, if they could come to terms. And Mr. Barbo keyed
himself to enjoyment.
"Single gentlemen," said she, "pay as high as twelve dollars." And she
added that they had no cause to complain of her table.
Eliphalet said he guessed he'd have to go somewhere else. Upon this the
lady vouchsafed the explanation that those gentlemen had high positions
and rented her large rooms. Since Mr. Hopper was from Willesden and knew
the Salters, she would be willing to take him for less. Eliphalet said
bluntly he would give three and a half. Barbo gasped. This particular
kind of courage was wholly beyond him.
Half an hour later Eliphalet carried his carpet-bag up three flights and
put it down in a tiny bedroom under the eaves, still pulsing with heat
waves. Here he was to live, and eat at Miss Crane's table for the
consideration of four dollars a week.
Such is the story of the humble beginning of one substantial prop of the
American Nation. And what a hackneyed story it is! How many other young
men from the East have travelled across the mountains and floated down
the rivers to enter those strange cities of the West, the growth of which
was like Jonah's gourd.
Two centuries before, when Charles Stuart walked out of a window in
Whitehall Palace to die; when the great English race was in the throes of
a Civil War; when the Stern and the Gay slew each other at Naseby and
Marston Moor, two currents flowed across the Atlantic to the New World.
Then the Stern men found the stern climate, and the Gay found the smiling
climate.
After many years the streams began to move again, westward, ever
westward. Over the ever blue mountains from the wonderland of Virginia
into the greater wonderland of Kentucky. And through the marvels of the
Inland Seas, and by white conestogas threading flat forests and floating
over wide prairies, until the two tides met in a maelstrom as fierce as
any in the great tawny torrent of the strange Father of Waters. A city
founded by Pierre Laclede, a certain adventurous subject of Louis who
dealt in furs, and who knew not Marly or Versailles, was to be the place
of the mingling of the tides. After cycles of separation, Puritan and
Cavalier united on this clay-bank in the Louisiana Purchase, and swept
westward together--like the struggle of two great rivers when they meet
the waters for a while were dangerous.
So Eliphalet was established, among the Puritans, at Miss Crane's. The
dishes were to his taste. Brown bread and beans and pies were plentiful,
for it was a land of plenty. All kinds of Puritans were there, and they
attended Mr. Davitt's Congregational Church. And may it be added in
justice to Mr. Hopper, that he became not the least devout of the
boarders.