The next morning while I was sitting near the door, cleaning my rifle, I
heard the soft pounding of a horse's hoofs on the heavy sod, and looking
up saw Reverdy and Sarah. He was in the saddle, she was riding behind. I
was about to ask for Zoe when I saw her peeping mischievously around the
shoulder of Sarah, showing her white teeth in a happy smile. It was not
Reverdy's Indian pony that was carrying so many travelers, but a larger
horse. They all got down and came in to see my hut. Sarah was greatly
pleased with it, and Zoe could not contain her delight. Reverdy and
Sarah were on their way to Winchester to pay a brief visit to Sarah's
aunt. They were soon off, Reverdy giving me the assurance that it would
only 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 not
cleared the breakfast table. She did so, then made my bed. I told her to
spread it with clean sheets as it was to be hers now, but she would not
hear to this. She was afraid to be on the ground floor where an intruder
could walk in upon her, or a stray wolf push the door open and wake her
with its unfriendly nose against her cheek. I told her then to look at
the loft. She climbed the ladder and took a peek, descended with the
remark that she liked it and would take it for hers. Almost at once we
had perfect order in the hut.
Zoe cooked, and cleaned the rooms. I was busy with my new dwelling. I
killed enough game to keep us in meat. Sometimes standing in the doorway
I could bring down a deer. Then we had venison. But we were never
without quail and ducks and geese. Zoe made the most delicious
cornbread, baking it in a pan in the fireplace. The Engles brought us
some cider. I had bought a fiddle and was learning to play upon it. We
never lacked for diversion. In the evenings I played, or we read. My
days were full of duties connected with the new house, or the crops and
improvements for the next year. And spring would soon be here.
I was beginning to be looked upon as a driving man. They had scoffed at
me as a young Englishman who could not endure the frontier life, and who
knew nothing of farming. But they saw me take hold with so much vigor
and interest that I was soon spoken of as an immediate success. My
coming to the hut and living and doing for myself had helped greatly to
confirm 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 to
break the ice with the ax to get water. I had to spend an hour each day
cutting wood for the fireplace and bearing it into the hut. These were
the mornings when the cold bath, which I could never forego, no matter
what the circumstances were, tested my resolution. For I was sleeping in
the loft where the bitter wind fanned my cheeks during the night. Zoe
had found it too rigorous, and preferred the danger of an intruder to
the cold. Even snow sifted on my face from rifts in the shingles which
we had overlooked. But nevertheless I adhered to the morning lustration,
sometimes going to the brook to do it. I had never experienced such
cold.
Yet the months of November and December, which at the time I thought
were the extreme of winter weather, were as nothing to the polar blasts
that poured down upon us in January and February. I had no thermometer.
But judging by subsequent observations I am sure that the temperature
reached twenty degrees below zero. I took no baths in the brook now but
contented myself with a hurried splash from a pan. At night I covered
myself with all the blankets that I could support. I protected my face
with a woolen cap, which was drawn over the ears as well. Zoe, though
sleeping near the immense fire which we kept well fed with logs, got
through but a little better than I. We heated stones in hot water to
take to bed with us. All kinds of wild animals coming forth for food
were frozen in their tracks. I found wolves and foxes in abundance lying
stiffened and defeated in the woods. Some nights, seeing the light of
our candle they would howl for food and shelter; and I heard them run up
and down past the door, wisping it with their tails. Then Zoe would
cling to me. And I would take up the rifle in anticipation of the wind
opening the door and admitting the marauder. We were snowbound the whole
month of February. I had to shovel a path to the brook. But it was out
of 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 few
that had been put in place.
One brilliant morning in the last of February I had gone to the brook
for water. The cold had moderated to some extent. But the snow remained
deep in the woods and on the fields. For though the sun shone, the sky
was nevertheless hazed with innumerable particles of frozen mist, having
the appearance of illuminated dust, or powdered mica. Somewhere in the
depths of this screen I heard the joyous cry of a jay. And Zoe, who was
by my side, said that spring was at hand.
The next day the air was milder. Soon the snow began to melt. We heard
musical droppings from our eaves. The brook broke from its manacles. I
could see patches of dead grass and dark earth between the disappearing
snow on the fields. At break of day we heard the chirrup of the
chickadee, the sparrow. I now resumed my plunge at the brook. And as we
were 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 news
waited us here. Mrs. Spurgeon had died during the bitter weather, about
three weeks before. Sarah was very much depressed. And Reverdy seemed
almost 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 and
I was much about watching to see that it was followed. We could have had
bricks 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 adequate
size along the bed of the brook. And so we used them. But I did buy
lumber for the floors. I sent to St. Louis for the kind of doors I
wanted, and windows too. I was having a house built with regard to
roominess and hospitable conveniences; a large living room, two
bedrooms, a dining room, a kitchen, downstairs. The second floor was to
have four chambers. I had selected a site back from the road. It was in
a grove of majestic oaks, not far from the brook and the hut. The work
progressed none too rapidly. Some of the men had to be away at times to
attend to their farming. As for myself I had learned to plow, and was at
it from early morning until sundown. I had many laborers working for me,
plowing, sowing, building fences, clearing; in a word, reducing the land
to cultivation. It was a big job.
I had won the respect of the community by the energy with which I had
undertaken the task. The neighbors said I was an improvement on my
father. They wondered, however, if I would be as far-sighted and
acquisitive 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 me
for what I had done, approved the spirit I had shown towards Zoe. She
was a great admirer of Wilberforce; and as she disliked America for its
separation from the Crown she wished the institution of slavery no good
on these shores. But she was disturbed about the conditions in England
and Europe. The old order seemed to her to be crumbling. Revolution
might break forth. The middle classes in England, having secured their
rights, as she expressed it, the laborers were now striving for the
franchise. Chartism was rampant. What would it all come to? Was England
safe against such innovation? But how about America, if the colored
people were given freedom, not of the franchise merely, but in civil
rights of property and free activity? But contemporaneous with this
letter, two events came into my life of profound influence. One was my
meeting with Russell Lamborn, the son of one of Jacksonville's numerous
lawyers. And the other was an extraordinary debate between a Whig
politician named John J. Wyatt and young Douglas. It was at the debate
that I met Lamborn.
Douglas had finished his school teaching. He had been licensed to
practice law, though not yet twenty-one years of age. He had opened an
office in the courthouse at Jacksonville. His sharp wit, pugnacity,
self-reliance, had already excited rivalry and envy. He had suddenly
leaped 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 imperious
attitude toward the banking interests on the one hand, and the matter of
South Carolina's nullification of the tariff law on the other hand. This
had weakened the Democratic party in Illinois. And as there was to be an
election in the fall of state officials, it was necessary to success to
satisfy the electorate that President Jackson had not betrayed his
leadership.
Bantering words went around to the effect that Douglas was seizing the
opportunity of this debate to make himself known, to get a start as a
lawyer, and a lift in politics. When a chance to make a hit fits the
orator's opportunity and convictions, it would be difficult for a man of
Douglas' enterprise and audacity to resist it.
For Douglas had, in spite of everything, captured the town. His name was
on every one's tongue. He had lauded President Jackson and his policies
with as much fervor as he had with virulence and vehemence denounced the
humbugging Whigs, as he had characterized them. The village paper, a
Whig 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 any
one. He returned blow for blow. He had become a terror. He must be
subdued.
John J. Wyatt, a man of ready speech, in the full maturity of his
powers, a debater and campaigner, a soldier in the War of 1812, and a
respected character, was to lay the adventurer, the interloper, low! He
was 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 appeared
in this part of the world, a creature of mature powers. Yet Wyatt would
subdue him.
We were all in anticipation of the contest. It was to take place in the
courthouse. What was the subject? Anything. Everything. Chiefly Whiggery
and 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 one
side of me and Reverdy on the other.
I shall never forget this night. Wyatt opened the debate, and he closed
it. 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 a
match for two or three such minds as Wyatt's. He humiliated to the last
degree the older, and at first confident, antagonist.
It was the most extraordinary exhibition of youth and dash and
confidence and ready wit, and knowledge and dialectic handling of
difficult matter. It furnished the groundwork of my education in the
history of American politics up to that time. It led into almost every
possible matter of constitutional law and party policy.
Wyatt talked for an hour. He jeered at Douglas. He referred to his
diminutive stature. He spoke ironically of his work as a cabinet maker,
and advised Douglas to stick to it and leave the profession of the law
alone. He characterized him as a strolling fellow who was trying to
break into the favor of the community with an impudence as effective as
burglar's tools. What did Douglas know of law? Who would trust his
interests to a lawyer so inexperienced? When had Douglas had time to
master its simplest principles? Who could not see through Douglas' thin
scheme to attach his fortunes to the chariot of the great but misguided
Jackson? Why had Douglas leaped to the defense of Jackson in this
community, like a fice coming to the aid of a mastiff? Why, if not to
get 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 upon
obscurity trying to rise, were thrown by Wyatt at Douglas. All the while
Douglas sat imperturbed, his head at a slight angle, which gave him the
appearance of attentive listening; and with a genial smile on his face
that was lighted a little with ironic confidence. Then Wyatt sat down
amid great cheering.
Reverdy thought that Wyatt had overdone himself, had forfeited to a
degree the sympathy of the audience. There was no call for such rough
handling of a young man. The feelings of the crowd reacted. And as
Douglas arose he was given a loud reception. For there were Democrats
enough 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 as
soon as he spoke the first word the silence was profound. The voice was
the voice of a man, and a strong man. It rolled over our heads with
orotund 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, for
bread or for position? He differed from Jackson about the tariff, and
all Jacksonville could know it. He agreed with Jackson about the bank,
and the whole country would come to approve Jackson's course. Was
nullification right? Perhaps Jefferson knew as much about that as Mr.
Wyatt. Let the laws of the Constitution be obeyed and nullification
would never be provoked. What had created nullification? The vile
policies of the humbug Whig party, the old monarchist harlot
masquerading in the robes of liberalism. How did these people dare to
use the name of Whig, how dare to resort to such false pretenses, when
it was common knowledge that the personnel of that party, having been
put down as Federalists for gross usurpation and monarchist practices
had, being forced to change their skin, adopted the title of the liberal
party of England, remaining more Tory than the party that tried to
destroy American liberty during the Revolution? And now this Whig party
like a masked thief was abroad in the land to pick up what spoils it
could, and to take from trusting hearts sustenance for its misbegotten
existence. It was already beginning to coquette with the slavery
question, hoping to deceive the people with humanitarian and moral
professions. Very well! If it was the Good Samaritan it pretended to be
let it give up its bank and its tariff, which took enough money out of
the mouths of the poor to feed all the niggers in the world. Let the
whiner about wrongs quit his own wrongs. Let the accusing sinner repent
his own sin. Let the people of New England pluck the pine logs from
their own eyes before talking of hickory splinters in the eyes of the
South.
And then Douglas took up the history of the formation of the Union. What
went into the Union? Sovereign states. Who concluded a treaty of peace
with Great Britain after the Revolution? The thirteen sovereign states
that had waged the war. Who formed themselves into the Confederate
States, each retaining its sovereignty? The same states. Who left that
union and formed the present Union? The same states. What did they do?
They retained all the sovereign powers that they did not expressly
grant. They never parted with their sovereignty, but only with sovereign
powers. Where does sovereignty reside under our system? With the people
of the states. What follows from all of this? Why, that each state is
left to decide for itself all questions save those which have been
expressly given over to Washington to decide. Who is trying to nullify
these inestimable principles and safeguards? That is the real
nullification. The humbug Whigs, who would like to centralize all
authority at Washington ... "and Mr. Wyatt here in this new country,
among people of plain speech and industrious lives, is the spokesman of
these encroaching despotisms, which he has vainly attempted to defend
to-night. He dares to assail the great name of Andrew Jackson. He would
like to overcome the state sovereignty which permits Connecticut to
raise cranberries and Virginia to have negro slaves, which leaves
Kentucky with whisky and Maine with water, if Maine ever chooses so. He
does not know that the French Revolution was waged for the great
principle of the people to rule; and he fails to see that the whole
world is coming to accept that doctrine. With the growing wealth and
power of the North, of Illinois, it is necessary that the rights of the
individual and local communities and of the small states as well as the
large states should have the effectual counterbalance of state
sovereignty to protect them against the ambition of centralists, who are
money grabbers wrapping themselves about with the folds of the flag and
with 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 canal
completed, so that the great lake at the north of the state would be
connected with the Mississippi River and with the Gulf of Mexico. What
did it mean? The state would fill up with earners of wealth. Lands would
increase in value. Cities would be built. As for himself, he would do
his utmost to bring these benefits to the state.
By what authority was his right challenged to come to this state to make
his home; and to this town to follow the profession of the law? Was
there any one present who did not wish him to strive for these
achievements for this western country? Perhaps Mr. Wyatt objected. No
matter. He was here to stay. He had left a land walled in by hills and
mountains, where the eye was deprived of its use in forming a vision of
the 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 this
brief time to feel that they were his people. And he asked them to adopt
him 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 he
stood up for his rejoinder. He saw that Douglas had carried the day. He
made a feeble attempt at reply. He tried satire; but it fell on
unreceptive ears. He dropped denunciation. He dared not attempt that.
He took up logical analysis. It left the audience cold. He pecked
timidly at the doctrine of state sovereignty. Then voices began to
question him. He shifted to Jackson. But the audience would not listen.
After using one half of the hour allotted him for a conclusion, he sat
down half wilted and discomfited.
A storm of cheers arose for Douglas. He was surrounded by a host of
admirers. 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 warm
recognition. I went to where he stood to offer my congratulations. I
asked him to come out and see me, and have a meal with me. He was
already mingling with the young people of his own age at dances and in
sports. 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 spurs
this night. And from thenceforth he was a notable figure. Had anything
just like this ever occurred in England? I had never heard of it. I
should certainly write my grandmama of this event.