I do not propose to enter upon a discussion of the question that now
agitates the entire population of Brandon township, Vermont,--namely,
whether Douglas was born in the Pomeroy or the Hyatt mansion. It is
enough for our purpose to record the fact that he _was_ born, and
apparently _well_ born,--as, from the statement of Ann De Forrest, his
nurse, he first appeared a stalwart babe of fourteen pounds weight.
He lived a life of sensations; and that he commenced early is clearly
shown by the fact that he was a subject of newspaper comment when but
two months old. At that age he had the misfortune to lose his father,
who, holding the baby boy in his arms, fell back in his chair and died,
while Stephen, dropping from his embrace, was caught from the fire,
and thus from early death, by a neighbor, John Conant, who opportunely
entered the room at the moment. And here let me say, that for
generations back the ancestors of Douglas were sturdy men, of physical
strength and mental ability. His grandfather was noted for his strong
practical common sense, which, rightly applied, with industry, made him
in middle life the possessor of wealth, and the finest farm on Otter
Creek. This, however, in later years was gradually taken from him, by
means which had better, perhaps, remain unmentioned. The father of
Stephen was a physician of more than ordinary talent and of much
culture. He had attained but to early manhood, when a sudden attack of
heart-disease removed him from life, and compelled his widow, with her
infant boy, to face the world alone.
A bachelor brother of the Widow Douglas took her and the baby to his
farm, where, for several years, the one mourned the loss of her husband,
while the other grew in strength and muscle. The earlier developments of
the boy were characteristic, and typical of those in later life. He was
very quick, magnetic in his temperament, and full to the brim with wit
and humor. Beyond his uncle's farm ran the far-famed Otter Creek, whose
waters, in my boyhood, were forbidden me, as inevitably leading the
incautious bather to "a life of misery and a premature death." There it
was, however, that Stephen earned his earliest triumphs. It is a long
pull across the Otter Pond, and the schoolmaster's last charge was
always, "Keep this side of the rock in the middle,--don't try to cross";
but reckless then of life as since in politics, self-confident and
daring as always, Douglas, of all the boys, alone dared disobey the
charge, and succeeded in reaching safely the opposite shore.
His companions, sons of farmers well to do in the world, were preparing
to enter college; and Douglas, the best scholar in his class, the finest
mathematician in the township, and who without instruction had mastered
the Latin Grammar and "Viri Romae," applied to his uncle for permission
to join them. The uncle, however, never noted for much liberality either
of brain or pocket, having taken to himself a wife and gotten to himself
a boy, was unable to see the necessity of giving the orphan a college
education, and pitilessly bound him to a worthy deacon of the church,
as an apprentice to the highly respectable, but rarely famous, trade of
cabinet-making. In this Douglas did well. It has been stated elsewhere
that "he was not fond of his trade," and that "his spirit pined for
loftier employment." Possibly. But for all that he succeeded in it, and
these lines are being written on a mahogany table made by him while an
apprentice at Brandon. It is a strong, substantial, two-leaved table,
with curiously carved legs terminating in bear's-feet, the claws of
which display an intimate acquaintance on the part of the maker with the
physiological formation of those appendages, and a more than ordinary
amount of dexterity in the handling of tools. It was while in this
occupation that he gained the _sobriquet_ of the "Tough 'Un." He was
nearly seventeen years of age, and, though not handsome, was very
intelligent and bright in his appearance, so that he was able to compete
successfully for the smiles and favors of a young country lass who
reigned the belle of the village. This did not suit the "mittened" ones,
and they determined to draw young Douglas into a controversy which
should result in a fight,--he, of course, to be the defeated party. The
night chosen for the onslaught was the "singing-school night," and the
time the homeward walk of Stephen from the house of the fair object of
contention. The crowd met him at the corner store. From jests to jibes,
from taunts to blows, was then, as ever, an easy path; and in reply to
some unchivalric remark concerning his lady-love, Douglas struck the
slanderer with all his might. Immediately a ring was formed, and kept,
until Douglas rose the victor, and without further ceremony pitched
into one of the lookers-on, and stopped not until he, too, was soundly
thrashed, when, with flashing eye and clenched fist, he said,--"Now,
boys, if that's not enough, come on, and I'll take you all together!"
At this juncture, the good old Deacon, who had been trying cider in
the cellar of the store, came along, and, taking Stephen by the arm,
said,--"Well, Steve, you _are_ a tough 'un! What! whipped two, and want
more? Come home, my boy, come home!" He was allowed ever after to go and
come with his bright-eyed beauty, unmolested, and for years was known
there and in the neighboring townships as the "Tough 'Un." Here, too, he
gained the reputation of being a good fellow, a whole-souled friend, and
a jolly companion. He _would_ read, and his favorite works were those
telling of the triumphs of Napoleon, the conquests of Alexander, and the
wars of Caesar.
He was still desirous of a collegiate education, and it is undoubtedly
true that constant application to his books, when he should have been
resting from the labors of the day, brought upon him an illness, the
severity of which compelled him to abandon his employment and return
to his uncle's house. There he obtained permission to take a course
of classical studies at the academy, a permission of which he availed
himself with enthusiasm. He was then a fine, well-built youth, foremost
in plays, active in all country excursions, and ever popular with his
elders. Indeed, this last trait followed him through life; and when
those of his own age were at sword's-point with him, he was sure of
finding friends and favor amongst such as were older and wiser than
himself. His mother, about this time, married a lawyer of wealth and
position, residing in the interior of New York, who, appreciating the
talent of the boy, aided him in his laudable endeavors to obtain an
education, and sent him to the academy at Canandaigua in that State.
There Douglas was soon among the first. He was the most popular speaker
of them all, pleasing old and young, and causing the hall of the academy
to be filled with an interested audience whenever it was known that he
was to be the orator of the night. His love of humor and his keen sense
of the ludicrous aided him not a little in the quick repartee, for which
he was then, as since, noted. He was far from idle during the three
years of his life at Canandaigua; for, besides applying himself with
untiring energy and zeal to the pursuit of a classical course at the
academy, he devoted much of his time to reading in the law office of the
Messrs. Hubbell. His examiners for the bar stated that they had never
before met a student who in so short a time made such proficiency; and
while they took pleasure in complimenting him, they also extended to him
the privileges which are accorded by rule only to those who have pursued
a complete collegiate course. This was especially gratifying and
stimulating to Douglas, who remarked to a fellow-student that for the
wealth of a continent he would not have had his "mother die without
hearing that intelligence of her son's progress."
At the age of twenty, Douglas commenced, with the fairest prospects, the
practice of law in the beautiful village of Cleveland, Ohio. Hardly had
the paint on his "shingle" become dry, when a sudden attack of bilious
fever prostrated him, and confined him to his room for months. He was
thoroughly restless; he pined for action; and when his physician said
to him, "Sir, if you allow yourself to fret in this manner, you will
certainly frustrate my efforts, and die," he replied, "Not now, Doctor;
there's work ahead for me." Upon his recovery, he found himself in
a situation such as would crush the spirit of ninety-nine men in a
hundred. He was weak, with but a few dollars, with no friends, in a
region of country that did not promise him health, and with no knowledge
of other localities. He paid his debts and left the place. He wandered,
literally, from town to town, until his means were gone and his strength
well-nigh exhausted, when, on a bright Wednesday morning in the month of
November, 1833, he reached the village of Winchester, Illinois.
In his head were his brains, in his pocket his cash resources, namely,
thirty-seven and a half cents, and in a checkered blue handkerchief his
school-books and his wardrobe. He knew no one there, he had no plan of
action, and, foot-sore, with heavy heart, he leaned against a post in
the public square, and for the first time in his life gave way to gloomy
forebodings. He had, however, entered the town where his fortunes were
to mend, his life to receive new vigor, and his successful career to
begin.
While standing thus, he noticed at the farther end of the square a crowd
of people, and walked towards them. On a platform stood a red-faced,
burly auctioneer, with a straw hat and a loud voice, who was arguing
with some one in the crowd of expectant buyers the impossibility of
proceeding with the sale without a clerk to aid him. He was in the heat
of the discussion, when his eye fell upon the intelligent face and
fragile form of young Douglas, to whom he beckoned,--when the following
dialogue ensued.
_Auctioneer_. I say, boy, you look like you're smart; can you figure?
_Douglas_. I can, Sir.
_Auctioneer_. Will a couple of dollars a day hire you, till we finish
this sale?
_Douglas_. And board?
At which reply the crowd laughed, and the auctioneer, who thought he had
found a treasure, said,--
"Yes, and board; tumble up and go to work."
Whereupon, Douglas, whose legs were weak, whose stomach was empty, and
whose head fairly ached with nervous excitement, mounted the platform,
began his work as deputy-auctioneer, and laid the foundations of
a popularity in that section which increased with his years and
strengthened with his success. The sale for which he was hired continued
three days, and attracted the residents of the place and the farmers
from the neighboring towns, all of whom were favorably impressed by the
bright look, the quick, earnest manner, the frequent humorous remarks,
and the unvarying courtesy of the young clerk. In the evenings, when
gathered about the huge iron stove in the bar-room of the hotel, and the
doings, good or bad, of "Old Hickory" were the theme of discussion, one
and all sat quiet, listening with admiration, if not with conviction,
to the conversation of the youthful politician, who at that time was a
great admirer of General Jackson.
With the same tact and adaptability to circumstances which were
characteristic of him through life, Douglas determined to make use of
these people; and so dexterously did he manage, that, before he had been
with them a week, he had produced upon their minds the impression that
he was of all men the best suited to teach their district school the
ensuing winter. He dined with the minister, rode out with the doctor,
and took tea with the old ladies. He talked politics with the farmers,
recounted adventures to the young men, and, if my informant is
trustworthy, was in no way shy of the young ladies. The zeal with
which he sang on Sunday, and the marked attention which he paid to the
sermonizings of the dominic, advanced him so far in the affections of
the honest people of that rural town, that, had he asked their wealth,
their prayers, or their votes, he would have had no difficulty in
obtaining them.
There are no reasons for believing, that, as a schoolmaster, he was
particularly well qualified. He did very well however, and satisfied
the entire township, so that, had he been content with that that very
honorable, but somewhat inconspicuous life, he might doubtless have
remained there until this day. Up to this period he had been a strict
temperance man. No intoxicating drink had as yet passed his lips; and an
early experiment with a pipe had so sickened him, that he had resolved
never again to attempt it. It would have been well for him, had he
adhered to that resolve; but, like many other politicians, he thought it
necessary, in the days of his early public life, to mix with the crowd,
to join the bar-room circle, to tell his story and sing his song, to
smoke, and generally to conform to all those demands of pot-house
oracles which have perhaps elevated the few, but without doubt destroyed
the many. His aim then was popularity. He did his best as a teacher,
giving his spare time to the law. Before the Justices' Court he argued
frequently, and commonly with success. There he gained reputation, and
having been elected member of the legislature, he determined to devote
his life thenceforth to what seemed to him kindred pursuits, politics
and law.
In the latter his successes were frequent. At first he was employed,
naturally, in minor cases; but it was soon discovered that no one at the
bar was his equal in the dexterous management of a knotty point, the
successful defence of a desperate villain, or the game of bluff with
judge, jury, or opposing counsel. His cases were such as developed his
cunning, his ingenuity, and tact, rather than tested his learning or
research; and it is doubtful if he would, in the practice of law alone,
have achieved more than a local distinction, and that not in all
respects a desirable one. In the wording of the State Statutes he was
well read, and he often availed himself of his remarkable memory to
the entire discomfiture of an opponent, whose technical error, quickly
detected by the watchful ear of Douglas, would be turned against him
with great effect. So constant was his success in the defence of
criminal cases, that it was deemed well, by the powers that were, to
elevate him to the position of prosecuting attorney for the first
district of the State. This was done in 1835, when he was but twenty-two
years of age. At that time he was of singularly prepossessing appearance
and popular manners. The _people_ were fond and proud of him; and when
he made his acknowledgments to them for the above-mentioned token of
their confidence, he so excited them by his oratory, that they took him
from the platform, raised him upon their shoulders, and bore him in
triumph about the town, while hundreds followed, shouting, "Hurra for
little Doug!" "Three cheers for the Little Giant!" "We'll put you
through!" and "You'll be President yet!"
The judges of the Supreme Court thought that a great mistake had been
made; and one of them, who in later years was one of Mr. Douglas's
warmest friends, did not hesitate to say that the election was wrong.
"What business", asked he, "has this boy with such an office? He is no
lawyer, and has no books." Indeed, he met with no little opposition from
his brethren at the bar, but none that in any way impeded his progress
in the affections of the people, or disheartened him in his efforts
after loftier place. Judge Morton relates, that at no time was Douglas
found unprepared. "His indictments were always properly drawn, his
evidence complete, and his arguments logical." Before a jury he was
in his element. There he could indulge in story-telling, in special
pleading, and in all the intricate devices which beguile sober men of
their senses, and prove black white or good evil. From judge to jury,
from the highest practitioner to the lowest pettifogger, there soon came
to be but one impression. He was acknowledged to be the champion of the
Illinois bar.
His career upon the bench, to which he was soon after elevated, was
brilliant, because energetic, and successful, because he never permitted
contingencies to thwart a predetermination, and because that coolness
and grit which enabled him to whip a second sneering boy while he was
yet a youth had become a settled trait of his character. It was during
the sitting of his court, that the notorious Joe Smith was to be tried
for some offence against the people of the State. Mob-law had taken
matters somewhat under its charge in the West; and the populace, fearing
that Smith, in this particular instance, might manage to slip from the
hands of justice, determined to take him from the court-house and hang
him. They even went so far as to erect a gallows in the yard, and,
having entered the court-room, demanded from the sheriff the person of
the prisoner. Judge Douglas was in his seat; the room was filled with
the infuriated mob and its sympathizers; Smith sat pale and trembling
in his box; while the sheriff, after vainly attempting to quell the
disturbance, fell powerless and half-fainting on the steps. "Sheriff,"
shouted the judge, "clear the court!" It was easier said than done. Five
hundred determined men are not to be thwarted by a coward, and such the
sheriff proved. It was a trying moment. The life of Smith _per se_ was
not worth saving, but the dignity of the court must be upheld, and
Douglas saw at a glance that he had but a moment in which to do it. "Mr.
Harris," said he, addressing a huge and sinewy Kentuckian, "I appoint
you sheriff of this court. Select your deputies. Clear this court-house.
Do it, and do it now." He had chosen the right man. Right and left fell
the foremost of the mob; some were pitched from the windows, others
jumped thence of their own accord; and soon the entire crowd, convinced
of the judge's determination to maintain order, rushed pell-mell from
the court-room, while Smith, who had unperceived made his way up to the
feet of the judge, laid his head upon his knee and wept like a child.
"Never," said Douglas, "was I so determined to effect a result as then.
Had Smith been taken from my protection, it would have been only when
I lay dead upon the floor." The fact that he had no right to appoint
a sheriff was not one of the "points of consideration." "How shall I
execute my will?" was probably the only question that suggested itself
to his mind at the time, and the logic of the answer in no way troubled
him. The dignity of the bench was always upheld by Judge Douglas during
the sitting of the court; but he was no stickler for form or ceremony
elsewhere.
A friend tells an amusing anecdote illustrative of his daring and
somewhat foolhardy spirit, even in mature life. Mr. Douglas, then
a judge of the Supreme Court of Illinois, was one of a number of
passengers who, on the crack steamboat "Andrew Jackson," were going down
the Mississippi. The steamer was detained several hours at Natchez,
where she was supplied with wood and water, and during the delay a huge,
hard-fisted boatman, somewhat the worse for a poor article of strychnine
whiskey, made himself very conspicuous and exceedingly obnoxious by the
continual iteration of his intense desire to fight some one. He
was fearful that he would "ruin," if his pugilistic wants were not
immediately attended to, and in manner more earnest than agreeable
invited one and all to "come ashore and have the conceit taken out" of
them. From the descriptive catalogue he gave of his own merits, the
passengers gathered that he was "a roarer," "a regular bruiser," "half
alligator, half steamboat, half snapping-turtle, with a leetle dash of
chain-lightning thrown in," and were evidently afraid of him; when the
Judge, who had been quietly smoking on the deck, stepped out upon the
quay, and, approaching the bully, said, with a peculiarly dry manner,--
"Who might you be, my big chicken, eh?"
"I'm a high-pressure steamer," roared the astonished boatman.
"And I'm a snag," replied Douglas, as he pitched into him; and before
the fellow had time to reflect, he lay sprawling in the mud.
A loud shout, mingled with derisive laughter, burst from the spectators,
all of whom knew the Judge; and while the discomfited braggart limped
sorely off, the passengers carried Douglas to the bar, where, for hours
after, a general series of jollifications ensued, and he who a few days
before had sat the embodiment of judicial dignity on the supreme bench
now vied with a motley crowd of steamboat-passengers in song and story.
As a judge he was as he should be; but he was a judge only while
literally on the bench.
The decisions of Judge Douglas were recognized always as able and
impartial; but his habit of "log-rolling," or, as the extreme Westerners
call it, "honey-fugling" for votes and support, had so grown upon him,
that his sincere friends feared lest he would sink too low, and in the
end defeat himself. He had ascertained, however, that success was in the
gift of the multitude, and to them he ever remained faithful.
Had Mr. Douglas been born four months sooner than he was, he would have
been a Senator of the United States in 1842, when his age would have
been thirty years; but owing to the fact that he would not be thirty
until April of the following year, his friends found it would be
unadvisable to elect him. In November, 1843, however, he was elected to
the House, after passing through one of the most exciting canvasses
ever known in the West. Everywhere he met the people on the stump. That
seemed to be his appropriate forum, and the only position in which he
could indulge in his peculiarly popular style of oratory. His greatest
achievement during that Congress was his speech in defence of General
Jackson,--a speech begun when the seats and halls were comparatively
empty, but concluded in the presence of an overwhelming audience. After
the adjournment of Congress, delegations from many of the States were
sent to a monster Jackson Convention held at Nashville, and Mr. Douglas
was a member of the Illinois Committee. By invitation, he stopped at the
Hermitage. Hundreds of others were calling to pay their respects to
the old hero, and to congratulate him upon his triumph, when Douglas
entered. He was short and plain, and attracted little attention, till
presented by Governor Clay of Alabama. On the announcement of his name,
the General raised his still brilliant eyes, and gazed for a moment on
the countenance of the Judge, still retaining his hand.
"Are you the Mr. Douglas of Illinois who delivered a speech last session
on the subject of the fine imposed on me for declaring martial law at
New Orleans?" he asked.
"I have delivered a speech in the House on that subject," replied
Douglas.
"Then stop," said the General; "sit down here beside me; I desire to
return you my thanks for that speech."
And then, in the presence of that distinguished company, the aged
soldier expressed his gratitude for the words so kindly and justly
spoken, and assured him of his great obligations. At the conclusion
of the interview, Douglas, who was unable to utter a word, grasped
convulsively the aged veteran's hand and left the hall.
At his death. General Jackson left all his papers to Mr. Blair, the
editor of the Washington "Globe," and among them was a printed copy of
the speech, with this indorsement, written and signed by himself:--"This
speech constitutes my defence: I lay it aside as an inheritance for my
grandchildren."
In the famous Compromise struggle of 1850, Judge Douglas developed great
strength of will and wonderful executive ability. With Henry Clay he was
on the most friendly terms, and that statesman once said of him, that he
knew of "no man so entirely an embodiment of American ideas and American
institutions as Mr. Douglas." It is well known that to Senator Douglas
belongs the credit of initiating the great "Compromise Bill," and that,
though reported by Mr. Clay as from the Select Committee of the Senate,
it was in reality the California and Territorial Bills drawn up by Mr.
Douglas, united. It was at his own suggestion that this was done; and
when Mr. Clay objected, on the ground that it would be unfair for the
Committee to claim the credit which belonged exclusively to another, he
rebuked him, and asked by what right he (Mr. Clay) jeoparded the peace
and harmony of the nation, in order that this or that man might receive
the credit due for the origin of a bill. Mr. Clay was so struck by the
manner and observation, of Mr. Douglas, that he grasped his hand and
said,--"You are the most generous man living! I _will_ unite the bills,
and report them; but justice shall nevertheless be done to you as the
real author of the measures." It has been.
Some time after this, he had occasion, to visit Chicago, and his friends
were desirous that he should address the people in defence of the
principle involved in the Kansas-Nebraska Bill. On Saturday night he
appeared before his audience in the open square in front of North Market
Hall. His opponents had been more active than his friends. Ten thousand
roughs, determined to make trouble, had assembled there; and when the
speaker appeared, they saluted him with groans, cat-calls, ironical
cheers, and noises of all kinds. That sort of thing in no way annoyed
him. He was used to it. On similar occasions he had by wit and
good-humor succeeded in gaining a respectful and generally an
enthusiastic hearing, and he expected to do so now. He was mistaken. For
four hours the contest raged between them. He entreated, he threatened,
he laughed at them, told stories, bellowed with the entire volume of his
sonorous voice, but without success. They defied and insulted him, until
the clock in a neighboring church-tower tolled forth the midnight hour.
"Gentlemen," said Douglas, taking out his watch, and advancing to the
front of the stand, "it is Sunday morning. I have to bid you farewell. I
am going to church, and you--can go to ----." Whereupon, he retired, and
the crowd followed, hooting, jeering, and screaming, until they left him
at the door of his hotel.
No man living possessed warmer friends than Mr. Douglas. I saw tears
of sorrow fall from the eyes of hard-featured Western men, when at the
Charleston Convention it became evident that he could not receive the
Presidential nomination. Hard words were spoken and hard blows were
given in his cause there, and subsequently at Baltimore; and it is
doubtful if ever caucusing or struggles for success insured more bitter
or lasting hatreds than were engendered during the prolonged contests at
those places. The result of that strife, the subsequent canvassing of
the country in search of friends and votes, and the ultimate defeat,
worked wonderful changes in him, morally and physically. All that in
years past he had looked for, all he had struggled for, seemed put
forever beyond his reach; and he was from that hour a different man.
Fortunately for him, gloriously for his reputation, the people of the
South saw fit to rebel; and Douglas, espousing the side of the right,
has died a patriot. There had always been a feeling of friendship
existing between Mr. Lincoln and Judge Douglas; and the manner in which
the latter acted just prior to the Inauguration, and the gallant part he
sustained at that time, as well as afterwards, served to increase their
mutual regard and esteem. It was my good-fortune to stand by Mr. Douglas
during the reading of the Inaugural of President Lincoln. Rumors had
been current that there would be trouble at that time, and much anxiety
was felt by the authorities and the friends of Mr. Lincoln as to the
result. "I shall be there," said Douglas, "and if any man attacks
Lincoln, he attacks me, too." As Mr. Lincoln proceeded with his address,
Judge Douglas repeatedly remarked, "Good!" "That's fair!" "No backing
out there!" "That's a good point!" etc.,--indicating his approval of
its tone, as subsequently he congratulated the reader and indorsed the
document.
At the Inauguration Ball, all were waiting the arrival of the
Presidential party. Much feeling had been created in the city by the
announcement that Washington people did not intend to patronize the
affair, and it was feared that it might fall through. Presently the band
struck up "Hail Columbia," and President Lincoln with his escort entered
the room, followed by Mrs. Lincoln, who was supported by Judge Douglas.
A more significant demonstration of friendship and of personal interest
could not possibly be suggested; and Mr. Douglas, that night, by his
genial manner, his cordial sympathy with the _personnel_ of the new
Administration, and the effectual snubbing which he thereby gave to the
pretentious movers in Washington society, won for himself many friends,
and the gratitude of all the Republicans present.
About two months since, while in the telegraph office at Washington,
I saw Mr. Douglas. Accosting him, I asked what course he thought the
President should pursue towards the sympathizers with the South who
remained in that city. "Well," replied he, "if I were President, I'd
convert or hang them _all_ within forty-eight hours. However, don't be
in a hurry. I've known Mr. Lincoln a longer time than you have, or than
the country has; he'll come out right, and we will all stand by him."
The President was, in return, a warm friend of Mr. Douglas. I had
occasion to inquire of him if he had, as was reported in the newspapers,
tendered to Judge Douglas the position of Brigadier-General. "No, Sir,"
said Mr. Lincoln, "I have not done so; nor had I thought of doing so
until to-night, when I saw it suggested in the paper. I have no reason
to believe Mr. Douglas would accept it. He has not asked it, nor
have his friends. But I must say, that, if it is well to appoint
brigadier-generals from the civil list, I can imagine few men better
qualified for such a position than Judge Douglas. For myself, I know I
have not much military knowledge, and I think Douglas has. It was he who
first told me I should have trouble at Baltimore, and, pointing on the
map, showed me the route by Perryville, Havre de Grace, and Annapolis,
as the one over which our troops must come. He impressed on my mind the
necessity of absolutely securing Fortress Monroe and Old Point Comfort,
and, in fact, I think he knows all about it." The President continued
at some length to refer to the aid, counsel, and encouragement he had
received from Judge Douglas, intimating that the relations subsisting
between them were of the most amicable and pleasant nature.
It was evidently the purpose of Mr. Douglas, during the present crisis,
to impress upon the country the fact, that at the outset he had declared
himself a Union man, faithful to the Constitution and the upholding of
its powers.
Mr. Douglas has left many friends and many opponents, but few enemies.
Careless of money, he died poor. Generous to recklessness, he permitted
his estate to become incumbered and taken from him. Early in life he
aimed at personal popularity, and obtained it. In later years he desired
legal honors, and they were his. Successful in all he undertook, he
raised his ambition to the highest post among his fellows, and its
possession became the sole object of his life. For its attainment
he gave everything, yielded everything, did everything, and became
everything, without success. In all things he was extreme. His loves
and hates were strong. His habits, however they may be estimated, were
apparent to all. His life--was it a failure?
His death I will but mention. It has plunged a loving family into
sorrow, and taken from a party its leader. Thousands of sentences
gratifying to his friends are written about his greatness, and the
sacredness of his memory; and no word will be uttered here to offend
them. He shall himself close this paper, and I will be the medium of
conveying in his behalf a message to his fellow-countrymen,--a message
which he spoke into the ear of his watchful wife, for the future
guidance of his orphan children:--
"Reviving slightly, he turned easily in his bed, and with his eyes
partially closed, and his hand resting in that of Mrs. Douglas, he said,
in slow and measured cadence,--
"'TELL THEM TO OBEY THE LAWS AND SUPPORT THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED
STATES.'"