Children of the Market Place Part 10

I did stay him, however, from looking through my house. I saw that he was a hungry dog, an impoverished wanderer who had fallen into means, if, indeed, he was Zoe's husband.

The question now was, how to get him away; how, without denying he had any rights, to keep him from a.s.suming an att.i.tude of proprietors.h.i.+p. I thought it best to go with him. Accordingly, as I had proposed that we go to Springfield at once, we rode partially across the farm in going to Jacksonville. I told Fortescue frankly that I would have to look into his proofs, and that I meant to go to Chicago, and that it was my duty to see to it that Zoe's murderer was punished.

I stopped a few minutes to talk to Reverdy and Sarah. Reverdy was all sympathy and wondered what misfortune would befall me next. Sarah wept for Zoe's fate and for the trouble that it involved me in. She went to the window and looked out. There was Fortescue waiting for me, apparently glowing for the good fortune that had come to him. And here was I in the house of Dorothy's brother and unable to put out of mind the hope that Zoe's death would change Dorothy's decision, even while I was grieving for Zoe. Like a spider at its door Fortescue was waiting for me. Whether he or I should be more benefited by Zoe's death remained to be seen. As I left I asked Reverdy to write Dorothy and tell her what had happened to Zoe.

When we got to Springfield I left Fortescue to his own ways. I looked up Douglas and asked his advice. As always, he was busy in politics. He was now master of his party's organization. But as I had tortures because of my position he had anxieties because of the lack of means.

The law business did not bring him a great deal; it could not, for his mind was on other things. He was trying to be secretary of state in order to supplement his earnings as a lawyer. He was catching at whatever offered to float himself along. His life was, therefore, patchy. Would it ever be a whole, well-fitting garment to his great genius?

I took up with him at once the matter of Zoe's common-law marriage.

There was first the question whether Zoe could enter into any marriage with a white man. But I had settled that with Mr. Brooks, when going into that matter of my father's marriage with Zoe's mother. Zoe was not a negro, not a mulatto; she had less than one fourth negro blood.

Therefore, she did not fall under the inhibitions of the Illinois law forbidding marriages between persons of color, negro or mulatto, with a white person. Douglas confirmed what Mr. Brooks had told me; and he gave me the opinion that a common-law marriage was legal, but that Fortescue would have to bring witnesses to Jacksonville to testify that he and Zoe had taken each other as husband and wife; and that this had been followed by an a.s.sumption of the marriage relation.

Douglas advised me to look carefully into the proofs. Well, why should he not return to Chicago with me and help with the investigation? He was willing. Meanwhile Fortescue was waiting for me. When I told him that I was coming to Chicago with a friend he looked suspicious, as if he thought that I was trying to evade him. As he began to press me then, saying that we could all travel together, I forgot myself for the moment in a rise of temper. "The land can't get away; nothing can run away; and you can't get anything until you prove your case. I am going to Chicago with a friend. I will see you there. You can go your own way." Fortescue acquiesced apologetically; and having done with him for the time, I turned again to visit with Douglas.

I had never seen him in a more interesting mood. He wished for good fortune to befall him so that he could do something for the education of the young, since his own opportunities had been limited. In this connection he spoke of the grants of land which had been made to Illinois for inst.i.tutions and schools of higher learning. And while talking of the Louisiana territory which Napoleon had granted to America, and of Texas whose recent independence the United States had recognized, his imagination glowed before the future power and glory of the country. He was delighted that so many Germans and Irish, fleeing from disorder and oppression in Europe, were seeking freedom and opportunity here, and filling up the new lands. But while my inheritance of a few thousand acres was already perplexing me, Douglas was still free of the great calamity that would befall him because of the new domains! If Zoe as one of the numerous persons of color had already involved my life, how terribly would the curse p.r.o.nounced upon the descendants of Ham fall upon this t.i.tan, this nation builder! Douglas indulged his satirical talent in an amusing description of General Taylor who was now talked of by the Whigs for President. He charged the Whigs with cunningly picking rough and ready characters, pioneer types, for their appeal to the plain people--pioneer types who really entertained monarchistic principles. There was already much talk that Texas was being drawn toward the United States by the slavocracy. Well, what of it? The main thing was to get Texas. What is this sanctimonious talk in prose and verse in England about Texas? Douglas was very contemptuous of all of this.

Fortescue took his way somehow to Chicago. Douglas and I traveled together. The first thing that Douglas sought to do was to look into the evidence as to the murder of Zoe, and this with reference to Fortescue's possible part in it. To this end Douglas sought the a.s.sistance of Mr.

Williams. Though he kept a law office, his larger interests were real estate dealings. But he dropped everything to a.s.sist Douglas and me in arriving at the truth. We went to the jail and saw the half-breed who was charged with killing Zoe. The state's attorney had the half-breed's confession. Though he was half insane from drink when he did the deed, the prosecutor intended to ask for the death penalty. He was a half-breed!

We intended to look up the witnesses, to learn from them the circ.u.mstances which attended the murder. The prosecutor, however, was disinclined to let us do this, and refused to give us their names. He stood on a matter of pride that he had the case in hand himself and had procured the confession. Douglas seemed to think it was unnecessary to pursue the matter, and that was Mr. Williams' att.i.tude. In the hurry of these hours, dinner time having arrived too, we got into a haze--at least I did--about getting anything more definite. Douglas thought that the real question was the common-law marriage. If I wanted to prosecute Fortescue for the murder I could do it any time. In the meanwhile Fortescue would have to prove the marriage in order to derive any benefit from Zoe's death.

We asked Fortescue what evidence he had of this marriage. "For one thing this," he said, bringing forth a ring which had the words, "to my husband Henry from Zoe" and the date engraved in it. Douglas wished Fortescue to produce the witnesses who were present at the marriage.

This Fortescue refused to do. He became suddenly stubborn, almost sullen. In a bold way he said to us: "If you are not satisfied with this, I'll prove my case." "You will have to do that anyway," said Douglas, "and perhaps as this matter goes on you will not be so confident." Saying that he would come to Jacksonville with his proofs Fortescue left us and disappeared.

Then Douglas turned to the talk of politics with his friends. Mr.

Williams went to his office. I was left alone. Had we accomplished anything? I went back to see the state's attorney by myself, and asked him if he did not suspect Fortescue. The state's attorney said that the case was perfectly clear against the half-breed; that my only interest in the matter was the marriage and to go back and defend that if I chose, though he felt sure that Fortescue would amply prove that he had married Zoe. I dropped the whole thing and called upon Abigail.

She began at once to urge me to come to Chicago. This was to be a city.

The opportunities here were infinitely rich. The life was increasingly more interesting. She knew of my troubles, knew of the murder, for it had been the talk of the town. She urged upon me a new life. I did not need to sell my farm--leave it. Come to Chicago where fortunes were being made and where greater fortunes would come to men of vision and energy. We took a walk by the lake, which in reality only came to the sh.o.r.e far south of the town--south of the mouth of the river. Here the waves rolled upon the sand. What purity and blueness in the sky! To our right as far as we could see wastes of yellow sand, dunes, brush, small oaks and pines! Back of us a ragged and wild landscape being broken or leveled by builders, by the opening of streets and roads.

Abigail was truly my friend, wise and sympathetic. Her clear-cut thinking sheared away accidental things, fringes of irrelevancy. I was so glad to get her opinion on the various things that perplexed me. She advised me to make the best fight I could against Fortescue. After that come to Chicago whatever the result. We parted with a clasp of the hand.

Then I went to find Douglas.

CHAPTER XXVI

At times afterward I reproached myself for not doing more to fix the guilt of Zoe's death upon Fortescue. Particularly as it became clear to me that his freedom from that responsibility energized his descent upon me for Zoe's interest in the farm. What had my generosity, foolish and boyish, come to after all?

But on this trip to Chicago, whatever our resolutions were on the way, they melted or scattered when we found the half-breed had confessed; also when we talked to the witnesses. Douglas, too, though he had not slackened his interest in my behalf, had politics to occupy his mind.

The presidential campaign was on. He was the leader of his party in Illinois; and his presence in Chicago was opportune.

The half-breed was quickly tried, convicted, and hanged. And before I was scarcely ready Fortescue had come to Jacksonville with his witnesses to prove the marriage. I tried to engage Douglas as my counsel, but he was deep in campaigning. Accordingly I turned again to Mr. Brooks. There was nothing left of defense to us but the cross-examination of these unknown persons who came to swear that they were witnesses to the wedding. That Zoe and Fortescue had lived together as husband and wife there was little doubt. Had I not seen them together on the lake front in Chicago? Had not Zoe then hidden herself behind a suspicious reticence? These things corroborated the witnesses.

Mr. Brooks' cross-examination was not very acute. Perhaps there was not much to ask. But we had no witnesses with whom to rebut Fortescue's claim. I could not conceive how I could find any such witnesses; but I had gone to Chicago and left without trying to do so. And neither Douglas nor Mr. Williams had suggested it.

If some six men and two women were willing to swear that they were present to hear, and did hear, Zoe and Fortescue pledge themselves to each other, what could break the evidentiary effect? Fortescue had paid the expenses of these witnesses to Jacksonville; there was no attempt to hide that. But why not a formal marriage? They did not wish it that way.

Was not this marriage as valid as any? To be sure. Then the ring! We made little of a defense. Mr. Brooks seemed overcome by the emphatic answers. We lost. And Fortescue came into my life as a co-tenant, a brother-in-law.

Of course I inherited from Zoe too; but here was Fortescue, sharing in every acre, in every piece of timber in my house. Only a division by a court could set off to him his share and leave me in individual possession of mine.

He came to Jacksonville to live. He went into possession of the hut.

Whether I would or no, I had to confer with him about various things, fences, taxes, road service. He knew nothing of farming. He often came to ask me what to do, and I could not rebuff him. He brought strange characters about him, particularly some of the witnesses who had helped him to sustain his claim. He sent to borrow utensils, household necessities. He visited with my workmen, wasting their time, putting disturbing ideas into their minds. He was a consummate nuisance. And as usual I had much to do and to think of, and I spent lonely evenings when I did not see Reverdy and Sarah or the old fiddler.

It was now left to me to inst.i.tute a part.i.tion suit to divide the land between me and Fortescue. Mr. Brooks managed this admirably for me.

There was danger that Fortescue might compel a sale of the whole farm and a division of the proceeds. There was my house, the attractive improvements around it, bright to the envious eye. Fortescue only had the hut. But at last acres were set off to him. I kept my house and the remainder of the land. And this was ended.

But nevertheless I thought more and more of selling the farm, of moving to Chicago. Fortescue was an impelling cause to this step. I should in that event leave Reverdy and Sarah and little Amos. I should see less of Douglas. But I began to be desperately annoyed by my situation. I could not wholly live down the killing of Lamborn. There was the memory of Zoe. There was now Fortescue. And in Chicago there was Abigail, to whom I was writing. She had become a very close friend. She was urging me constantly to take up my residence in Chicago. But I could not leave without selling the land. I did not wish to sacrifice it. I did not think it wise to rent it. Indeed I could not rent it and derive the same income from it that I could by working it myself. I had not yet found a purchaser who would pay what it was worth.

It was now the autumn of 1840. Sarah had two children beside little Amos, a boy born in August whom they had named Jonas. Dorothy had come from Nashville to help Sarah with the heavy household burdens that were now upon her.

I saw a good deal of Dorothy at Reverdy's; she came to my house on occasions when I entertained. She was as lovely as ever, but she did not have Abigail's mind. She was luxurious in her temperament, aristocratic in her outlook and tastes. She did not stimulate me as Abigail did, but she involved my emotional nature more powerfully. Something of resentment fortified my present neutral att.i.tude toward her. Why, after all, need Zoe have affected her so profoundly? Perhaps my own thinking was toughened by my experiences. I had killed a man for Zoe; I had been through a trial with Fortescue. Surely if there had been any bloom on me it had been rubbed off. Why had not Dorothy seen in me a practical, courageous heart, who took his fate and made the best of it? Was there something lacking of depth, of genuineness, in Dorothy's nature?

There was much stirring now in the country due to the campaign. The log cabin was apotheosized; hard cider was the toast to America's greatness.

The hero of Tippecanoe, the pioneer soldier, Indian fighter, the plain man, the Whig, was pitted against the well-groomed and resourceful Van Buren. Reverdy, because of his admiration for Douglas, was for Van Buren; and Dorothy had no thought of any other allegiance. We made up parties to attend the rallies, to see the marching men, to hear the speeches. Douglas, who was campaigning with tireless energy, came to Jacksonville to address the people. He was now twenty-seven and a master. He controlled the party's organization in Illinois. Practice had given solidity and balance to his oratory. He moulded the materials of all questions favorably to his side. Audiences rose up to him as if hypnotized. He swept Illinois for Van Buren. But Harrison and Tyler were elected. The vote of Illinois was a personal triumph for Douglas.

CHAPTER XXVII

A few days before Dorothy returned to Nashville we spent an evening together, first at Reverdy's home, later in a walk through the country.

It was moonlight of middle November, and the air was mild with a late accession of Indian summer. I sensed in Dorothy a complete erasure of everything in my life that had stayed her coming to me as my bride. It was not so much what she said as it was her att.i.tude, her tone of voice, her whole manner. But my own troubles had formed a nuclear hardness of thinking in me, which like a lodestar attracted what was for me, and left quiet and at a distance what was not mine.

I was delighted to be with Dorothy, but I did not stand with her on the basis of my former emotional interest. In a way she symbolized the false standards, the languorous aristocracy of the South. She was a presence of romantic music, a warmth that produces dreams. She was not the intense light that shone around Abigail. I had a letter from Abigail in my pocket. Parts of it wedged themselves through Dorothy's words as she rattled on more and more. I might as well have been thinking of my troubles; but in point of fact it was of Abigail.

Dorothy was not like Reverdy, nor was she like Sarah. If she had only been! A pathos was on me in this walk. The wind was blowing. The forest trees murmured like agitated water. The moon sailed high, and Dorothy walked by my side and talked. There was an evident struggle in her to bring me to her, to evoke the old ardor which had reached for her. But we returned to Reverdy's at last, and there had been no touch of hands, no tenderness. She stood momentarily at the gate. I gave her my hand, and with an impa.s.sive goodnight, she turned to the door and I went my way.

Then regret came over me. Had I wounded her? And if I had, could I win her back? Did I wish to? I could not entirely bring myself to relinquish Dorothy for good. But did I really care for Abigail? I took out her letter and began to read it again in order to clear my thoughts: "Dear James: You must be beginning to perceive that day by day you are accomplis.h.i.+ng certain things and thus forming your life. I admire greatly the way you took hold of the farm and the success that you have had with it; and I admire too the loyalty with which you have stood by your duty. Now I cannot help but urge you to come to Chicago. I feel something of a draw at times to return to the East; but, on the other hand, this growing town has an increasing fascination for me. It is already enlivened and bettered by many eastern people; and you would find a more interesting atmosphere than where you live now. I think some of the southern people who have settled middle Illinois are as fine as any one I have ever known; but I do not like the habits and the principles that go along with the southern inst.i.tutions. If you could sell the farm you could use the money to make a very large fortune in Chicago. The campaign has interested me very greatly; it has been riotous and colorful and full of extravagance. There is no real truth in all this business. It is the lesser reality of deals and bargains, wheedling, persuasion, and vote-getting. And no one has the gift of specious logic and stump hypnotism better than Douglas. To me he is one of the greatest of small men. Have you read Emerson or Lowell yet? Here are new men of real thoughtfulness whose minds are upon the truth which does not fade with pa.s.sing events. These questions about Texas and Oregon, about tariffs, about Whigs and Democrats, what are they but the cackle of the moment? And yet there is something pathetic about Douglas.

Why does he not settle to the solid study and experiences of the law?

Why this catching at this and the other opportunity? Mr. Williams says that Mr. Douglas has just accepted the Secretary of States.h.i.+p for Illinois. What an absurd thing for a lawyer to do! His career is so changeable, so flashy. He leaves himself open to the charge of scheming, grabbing, all sorts of things, though all the while he may be doing the best he can. Forgive my opinions, I love to express them to you. I look upon you as a fresh mind who can value the truth of things about it.

Douglas may become a very great figure; but I can't help but believe that his restless life may bring him to disaster. Let us hope it won't.

Meantime I wish for happiness for you. Your letters are very interesting and I am always glad to get them. Write me as often as you can, give me pictures of your life, the people. And do move to Chicago. Your friend, Abigail."

I read this letter over more than once with reference to its characterization of Douglas. I could not share her opinions. Why could she not see that Douglas had always done his best? After all, what of the law? Douglas could not be patient with the rules that related to a land t.i.tle while his thoughts were far afield in plans for the territorial greatness of his country. Meantime he had to earn his bread.

He had never stooped to dishonor, to chicanery. He had caught at the driftwood of supporting offices in his swimming of the new stream of primitive life. He was poor. He had enemies. His eye was upon an eminence. He had to make the best of the materials at hand.

I understood Douglas' difficulties because I had had difficulties of my own. I had not faced the world with poverty. But I had faced it with Zoe. I had not battled in issues which were influenced by the negro, but I had a social experience which Zoe had made and complicated for me. If Douglas was now in an office that belittled him, I was sorry, for I was his friend in all loyalty.

CHAPTER XXVIII

Scarcely had Douglas settled as Secretary of State, when he resigned the office to become Justice of the Supreme Court of Illinois. Abigail wrote me a most amusing and ironical letter on this sudden s.h.i.+ft of his activities. "What do you think now?" was her query. "I think he is as well fitted to be judge as to be Secretary of State, which is not at all."