I had many business vexations on returning to Chicago. But also the
campaign of 1848 was on, and I was deeply interested in it. I had passed
through the panic of 1837, but I was not then conscious that a labor
movement was on. That panic had stayed it, for a mason or a carpenter
was glad of work in those hard days. Then prosperity had revived and now
it was in full tide due to a world condition; but in America also due to
expansion and railroad building. Mr. Van Buren, in 1840, then being
President, and seeking, as his enemies said, to influence the labor
vote, had issued an executive order to the effect that laborers and
mechanics need work but ten hours a day. Soon after this the bricklayers
of Pittsburgh formed a union, the journeyman tailors of Washington
opened a shop of their own; the workingmen of Philadelphia got into
politics with an Equal Rights party. The laborers everywhere were
advocating organization and cooperation and strikes as a means to good
wages. In New York the laborers' union association had demanded a dollar
a day, made out a political program, which involved opposition to any
candidate who did not support the interests of workingmen. Sometimes the
militia had to be called out, as in 1846 when some Irish workers on a
strike were supplanted by Germans. Horace Greeley had naturally taken a
hand in this movement. It attracted the humanitarian mind. The
revolutionary processes in Europe of this year, the success of the
socialists in France, had a marked influence upon the conditions in
America. Meetings were held to congratulate the Chartists in England,
the followers of Louis Blanc in France. Strikes were on in Boston and
Philadelphia. I was caught in this world drift. I had a strike on my
building in Chicago.
I had left my affairs in the hands of an agent manager, who did not
assume authority to meet the terms of the strikers. Upon my return I was
obliged to settle it myself. I did this by promptly acceding to the
demands made upon me. What was a quarter of a dollar more a day to me? I
wanted 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 slavery
in the South, even if he did not have it brought to his mind in the
concrete way that I did. Slavery might be wrong, that was one thing; it
might cut into the rights, first or last, of the free worker; but if the
negro 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 white
man who was paid so much a day, enough to give him food, shelter, and
clothing, and thus keep him a fit machine? Thus there was a moral
sympathy between the white workers and the black workers; all were
making money for an upper man. If it was wrong to appropriate all the
black man's labor, it was wrong to appropriate too much of the white
man's labor. The Declaration of Independence was a hard nut to crack.
While only a few hare-brained agitators wanted negro equality, even
Douglas did not like slavery.
The new lands of the West brought fresh troubles to Douglas and
desperate struggles to the South. The emigration of revolutionaries from
Europe added to the enemies of the slave system. It was hard for them to
understand that the Declaration of Independence did not include the
negro.
This was the state of affairs in the campaign of 1848. The Democrats had
nominated Mr. Cass, of Michigan, for President, and presented him to the
people on a platform which placed the responsibility for the Mexican War
upon the aggressions of Mexico; it congratulated the American soldiers
of that war for having crowned themselves with imperishable glory; it
tendered to the Republic of France fraternal salutations upon the
success of republican principles, upon the recognition by the French of
the inherent right of the people in their sovereign capacity to make and
amend their forms of government. It spoke for American Democracy, a
sense of the sacred duty, by reason of these popular triumphs abroad, to
advance constitutional liberty, to resist monopolies. It advocated a
constant adherence to the principles and compromises of the
Constitution. It praised the administration of Mr. Polk for repealing
the tariff of 1842, and making a start toward free trade.
And not a word about slavery. The convention voted down a resolution
which favored "non-interference with the rights of property of any
portion of the people of this confederation, be it in the states or the
territories, 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 had
predicted, upon his record in the Mexican War, the war successfully
prosecuted by President Polk, and through which California, with her
gold, had come to the United States. Taylor, the slave owner of
Louisiana! But this was not the end of Whig cunning. Millard Fillmore
was nominated for Vice President. He was from New York, had been in
Congress, had opposed the annexation of Texas, was a tariff man, had
fought side by side with J. Q. Adams for the abolition of slavery. But
also 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-burners
had a ticket in the field; and the Abolitionists. Mr. Van Buren was
running for President as a Barn-burner on a platform which declared
that 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 interesting
association was renewed. He had had something of a quarrel with Mr.
Polk, but it had been patched up. Before now he had proposed that the
line of the Missouri Compromise be extended to the Pacific Ocean. Was
he, too, becoming uncertain of mind? Sometimes I thought he was
overworked, that his energies were concerned with too many subjects. He
was making speeches; he was talking railroads; he had his own political
fortunes to watch. The Whigs were gaining ground. He scoffed at them. He
derided their hypocrisy. He laughed at their piebald character. Yet he
saw a cunning plot in this presentation to the electorate of men who
appealed so diversely: Taylor of the South, and of slavery; Fillmore of
the North, and of free soil, backed by the powerful mercantilism of the
North, like the bank and the tariff. Both were using Jefferson to win
the mob, and Hamilton to satisfy the strong.
It was in the fall just before the election that Reverdy and Sarah came
to 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 between
us, but Reverdy was an abstainer. He was satisfied with Douglas'
personal attitude toward slavery; Douglas' evident wish that the
institution was not among us; his refusal to have anything to do with
Mrs. Douglas' slaves. Reverdy was a man of peace and believed that
Douglas' non-interference policy would ensure peace. He approved of
leaving the matter of slavery to the people of the territories. He
feared a war, and he opposed the agitation that might bring it. At the
same time, he preferred a free soil and a free people. Reverdy was
typical of many men in America. And indeed, my heart went with Reverdy
in these things, even while my thinking went with Douglas.
Douglas was now the master of his party in Illinois, and it seemed to me
that no one could dispute his leadership in the nation. He had perfected
the party organization in the state from the small beginnings of which I
have told. He was proud of his work and the strength and discipline of
his party. He looked forward to victory this fall over the
hermaphroditic ticket of Taylor and Fillmore. He was never more
brilliant than he was this evening. He was compelling to look at, not
when standing, for then his short legs caricatured and belittled his
great body. But when he was seated his wonderful face and majestic head
truly 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, ironic
lights passed across his face. He said in a satiric way: "Just listen
to that." These cries could not be met by direct denial, by an
epigrammatic retort. One could not so aptly say "slave banks, slave
tariffs, slave labor conditions." These required arguments to expound.
If labor conditions presaged slavery for white men were they freed by
negro slavery? Was not this roar outside of the house a part of the
tumult in Germany and France? Was not this America hailing Europe? Had
not this crowd caught up the Democratic platform which congratulated the
republicans of France? What would the German vote do, the Irish vote,
all the foreign vote? Had not the Whigs, marching through these streets
of Chicago, captured all the effective thunder of the Democratic party?
As Douglas sat before us I saw him as a giant around whom great forces
were gathering. The light played a curious trick with his forehead,
throwing part of it into fantastic shadows. There was a moment's silence
in which the deep brilliancy of his eyes flashed upon me. Then his great
voice spoke again: "It is easy to have a war--among ourselves." Reverdy
looked at Douglas in a sort of terror. Just then Amos came to the door
to call us to see a political parade which was passing the house.
We three arose, joining Mother Clayton, Dorothy, and Mrs. Douglas who
were already watching it. It was a demonstration of Free Soilers.
Douglas had voted against the prohibition of slavery in Texas. This was
the answer. These banners, bearing the words "Free Soil, Free Speech,
Free Labor, and Free Men," were the challenge. The men who bore them did
not 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 create
this demonstration, that he had been influential in initiating this new
momentum.
I looked at Douglas to see what effect the shouts, the pushing, running,
limp-stepped throng would have upon him. A smile flitted across his
face. His eyes were intense and concentrated. He made no comment. The
last men of the parade passed with shouts. A drunken marcher fell. The
lights faded. We turned into the room. Douglas was laughing.