Children of the Market Place Part 8

"Dear Dorothy: The only thing I can say in my own behalf is that I found myself suddenly placed in this position as Zoe's brother, without understanding, or only understanding gradually what it meant to me, or would mean to any one else. I have been learning all of these things; and your letter makes them clear to me. I did not come straight home but went to New Orleans; and your letter had been here some days when I returned. I must tell you that Zoe disappeared in my absence. I don't know where and cannot learn. I am fearful for her; and there are many possible complications. But I am powerless to do anything at this time.

She may never return. She may fall into strange hands and make some new relations which will come back upon me and upon any one I cared for with embarra.s.sing results. I am in a position where I can make no a.s.surances.

I feel like asking you to forgive me for causing you any suffering or anxiety. I should not have asked you to marry me. It was thoughtless; but I could not with my experience and knowledge of things understand all that my request might mean. As you are Reverdy's sister I can't help but feel a tender and protecting interest in you, whatever may come of it. And I hope life may deal with both of us in such a way that any harm I have done you will be overcome by some good that I may be to you. And without asking to see you again I still keep the hope that fate will be good enough to let me meet you sometime when a clasp of the hand will be welcome to you and with no consequences that are not pleasant."

And then I sealed the letter for mailing and retired; but not to sleep, rather to turn restlessly for some hours in the night.

CHAPTER XXI

Fortunately for my peace of mind I had much to do and much to interest me. The country was developing rapidly under my eyes. Thousands of farms were coming into cultivation. The prairie gra.s.s was vanis.h.i.+ng before the corn. Villages were springing up everywhere. Jacksonville was growing. A furor of land selling, the selling of lots and blocks in the newly formed towns, swept over the state. And my own farm had increased in value, both because of the care I had given it and because of the growing population. For in truth, while Illinois had about 160,000 inhabitants when I came to it, now as we approached the year 1837 it was estimated that there were nearly 400,000 souls within its borders.

Douglas had no sooner become a member of the legislature, as it seemed to me, than he resigned to take the office of register of land in Springfield, which was now the capital of the state. He was reported to me to be making a great deal of money now, sometimes as much as $100 a day. I saw him in the summer. He was a figure of dash, self-possession, energy and clear-headedness. He confided to me that he intended to run for Congress. He was now twenty-four, a political leader in his party, fearless, dreaded, and resourceful.

Douglas had advised me to read political history. Accordingly, during the long evenings at the farm, I had gone through Elliott's _Debates_ and the _Federalist_. My grandmother sent me De Tocqueville's _De la Democratie en Amerique_, which I read in French.

But now I began to see that abolition sentiment was growing. Societies were being formed and had been for about two years in the northern part of the state. Here in Jacksonville the agitation of the slavery question was frowned upon; but it was fermenting under the surface of southern sentiment.

I was now treated to an American panic, and times were hard. The East wanted a tariff to protect its manufacturers; the South wanted land and slaves. Texas had been filling up with Americans since 1820. She seceded from Mexico and declared her independence now; and General Houston, a Virginian by birth, a Tennesseean by residence, had taken command of the Texas troops, and after the Alamo ma.s.sacre, had defeated the Mexicans with terrible slaughter in the battle of San Jacinto. The New England conscience excoriated these things and attributed them to the machinations of the slavocracy. But while Douglas had no mastery of the tariff question in its details, his mind shot through to the general philosophy of it. He often said to me that books and works of art should be admitted free of duty. He was wont to laugh at the New England conscience which could swallow the tariff and the growing factory system, and yet reject with such holy loathing cotton and slavery. He could not handle statistics, but he was a master of principles.

As my grandmother was writing me regularly of affairs in England, of the progress of events, of the building of railroads, of Charles Wheatstone's electric telegraph, and of the new books of moment, I on my part was attempting to keep her informed of my life, and of the swiftly moving panorama of Illinois life. And here I insert one of my letters to her because it covers so much of the ground of this time of my life.

"Dear Grandmama: I have before written you of my friend Mr. Douglas who came to Illinois just a little while before I did, and who has had such a phenomenal rise in life in this new country. He is now making ready to go to Congress, and I am to be one of the delegates to the convention which is expected to nominate him. Having resigned a very lucrative post in the Land Office, he has gone into the practice of law and the pursuit of politics. For the latter he has a positive genius, as his whole mind is taken up with visions and plans for the development of the country, and for the aggrandizement of the United States. He is honest and outspoken, courageous even to audacity; but he is sometimes accused of devious ways, and of taking up anything that has a stomach in it. But no one can say that he changes his principles; rather he avails himself of opportune conditions, which are many, to advance himself and the things he believes in. The country has no truer friend. Though I am an alien I am a resident, and therefore I can partic.i.p.ate in political affairs and help him without being naturalized. At the present time Douglas is in Springfield, and is much in the office of one of the newspapers there, to which he contributes editorials sometimes. Recently the office was attacked by some men who had been accused of trickery of some sort by the newspaper. Douglas was present; and, though he is a little fellow, he helped to beat off the attacking parties; and in the general a.s.sault the sheriff was stabbed by one of the editors; but the matter has all blown over.

"My own unfortunate affair has the appearance now of dying down.

"A very terrible thing has happened in the killing the Reverend Lovejoy at Alton, a town not far from Jacksonville. He was running an abolition newspaper which was offensive to the slave interests or the peace interests, if you want to call them that. And persisting in his agitation of the slave question they undertook to destroy his press. In the altercation Lovejoy was shot. There is great feeling over the matter.

"It is impossible for me to convey to you the intellectual atmosphere of the country. It is so full of contradictions and cross currents. For example, you come to believe that a Whig is against slavery. Then some one comes forward to propose a certain General Harrison, a leading Whig, for President in 1840; and some one arises to show that when he was Governor of Indiana, when it was a territory, he tried to introduce slavery, contrary to the Ordinance of 1787. I wrote you of this Ordinance before. Then there are the most numerous groups of people of every sort of weird convictions; some organized to oppose Masonry; others to curb the Irish and the Catholics; others to prohibit the use of wine and all intoxicants; others to advance the cause of free love; others to socialize the state. There are also religious societies here of every description, such as the Millerites who are now preparing for the Second Advent of Christ which they believe will take place in 1843.

They are already making ready to leave their business, get their white robes, and await the Epiphany. In this state, at Nauvoo, a group called Mormons, who came here from Missouri, founded their faith upon a new revelation brought to light by two miraculous stones, said to have been discovered by a man named Joseph Smith. They practice polygamy, as in patriarchal times. They are already stirring up opposition to themselves, for where every one is so good and in his own peculiar way, hostility must result. And in this Democracy, so-called, all the really good people are in the business of forcing others to their own way of thinking. I must tell you also of a branch of the Presbyterian church which separated from the old church on the question of predestination and infant d.a.m.nation. Of Baptists, Methodists, and others there are numerous sects, which in England would be frowned upon as various forms of ludicrous non-conformism. De Tocqueville's book, for which my thanks to you, dear grandmama, will preserve a very faithful picture of America of this day.

"And it is refres.h.i.+ng, strengthening to the mind and clearing to the eye, to see Douglas and to hear him talk about all these things. He stands so clear, so pure of stock so to speak, amid all this variegated growth of political and social heresy. The other day when I was in Springfield I looked him up. Here he was talking of the Lovejoy matter, which led him into a cataloguing of the abolitionists, the anti-Masons, the Spiritualists, the Mormons, free lovers, old centralists, with the Whigs. I think he is proud that he has no hobby in the way of an ideal or ism. He seems unmagnetic to all such things. If he does not look with suspicion upon the reformer and accuse him of masking some selfish purpose, he is likely to think that the reformer is something of a fool.

He gazes with an eagle's eye over the whole of American activity; he sees the South interested in cotton, the North concerned with its growing factories. Steam, iron, coal, and land figure in his deductions.

He sees the country rising to power on them. And he sees men--whatever their professions--trying to advance their own interests. Hence he laughs down these queer political and religious groups; and while he deplores the death of Lovejoy, he takes it as a matter of course; the wringing of the nose brings forth blood. He is kindly and most loyal, fearless, clear-minded, and powerful; but he is unmoral. He sees the play of life. He sees the stronger getting more, Texas coming eventually to the United States, though blood be shed. The drift of things is impelled by great forces of ancient and world-wide origin. He believes with all his soul in the superiority of the white race, and that it must rule. At the same time Democracy is the thing, but Democracy let loose only after the philosophical channels have been cut. Notwithstanding his laughter at Mormonism, for example, he would not suppress it. He would let it work out its own fate. Free thought and free speech will kill it, or it will survive in spite of them because of its inherent strength, if at all. All together Douglas is very admirable to me. I think he is a genius; one of those human beings who was born old but who will always be young. And here he is in a country that is changing and growing like a village crowd upon a stage. Already Chicago has more than 4,000, and we are soon to have ca.n.a.ls and railroads, thanks to Douglas more than to any other man in Illinois. 'The Great Northern Cross,' a railroad, is soon to be built starting at Meredosia on the Illinois River and running to Jacksonville.

"As to my own affairs, dear grandmama, I have nothing to wish for in the way of material progress. Upon my return from New Orleans, whither I went in order to think down an unfortunate love affair, I found that Zoe had run away. I do not know where she is, and cannot learn by any means at my present command. Though, if Douglas is nominated for Congress, I mean to go about with him through the state. That will give me opportunity to search for her, particularly if we go to Chicago. Do write when you can, as letters are especially welcome to me from you here in this somewhat lonely life."

CHAPTER XXII

Because of the gossip concerning Zoe, and the fact that I had killed Lamborn, opposition was made to me as a delegate to the Congressional convention. I was an alien too; but that did not count. I was a resident and a large land owner.

Though Douglas was but twenty-four years of age, he was already a giant.

Opposition gave way before him; he stepped on his foes; he brushed tangles aside. A Mr. May, who was now in Congress, wanted to return. But he found he could not simply a.s.sume the nomination and place the responsibility for the a.s.sumption upon the request of "many friends"--a vague and specious way of covering up his own seizure of the honor. He had to face the convention system which Douglas had introduced into Illinois politics. And Douglas had Morgan County, his first home in Illinois, back of him; and Sangamon County, his home since he had gone into the legislature and the Land Office. Douglas was nominated.

A cry went up. An experienced Congressman, Mr. May, had been ruthlessly put aside for the sake of an ambitious stripling! The Whigs rejoiced and said that no nomination than that of Douglas could suit them better. And the Whigs were powerful enough. They were coquetting with the Abolitionists; and they stood for the tariff and the bank. Besides, times were hard. It had been said that Jackson had set the tide of money scarcity to flowing; Van Buren had increased it. There were also disgruntled factions because of Douglas' so-called high-handed tactics in capturing the nomination.

Then to make things worse the Democrats nominated a state ticket upon which two of the candidates had been in the Land Office. So had Douglas.

Hence the cry: the Land Office Ticket. Douglas had made money, therefore down with him! Only poverty and humility deserved honor.

I not only opened my purse to Douglas, for he was not in fact affluent; but I decided to travel with him in the campaign. True to his courage and his self-confidence he met his Whig opponent, Major Stuart, face to face in joint debate at Springfield. I was greatly thrilled with this contest. Major Stuart was very popular, an old resident, an officer in the Black Hawk War, and a brave one, Reverdy told me. He was of powerful physique, standing more than six feet, and equal to an arduous campaign.

At Springfield Stuart and Douglas came to blows. Stuart tucked Douglas'

head under his arm and carried him around the square; meanwhile Douglas bit Stuart's thumb almost in two. As a debater and campaigner Douglas was his superior. He made friends by the hundreds everywhere. He went down among the gay and volatile Irishmen who were digging the Illinois and Michigan ca.n.a.l, and won them to his cause. I was with him, watching his methods, marveling at his physical resources, his exhaustless oratory, the aptness and quickness of his logic.

In the midst of the summer we decided to go to Chicago. Douglas'

clothes, his boots, his hat, were worn almost to pieces. We were driving a single horse hitched to a buggy. The horse was weary; the harness was a patch of ropes. We could have made these things good with purchases along the way, but Douglas put off the day. At last we decided to make them in Chicago. He was loath to let me use my money for such needs as these, seeing that I had already contributed so much to campaign expenses. But I overbore his wishes.

We were a comical pair driving into the hurly burly of the new city of Chicago. It had recently received a charter. But what a motley of buildings it was! Frame shacks wedged between more substantial buildings of brick or wood. Land speculators swarmed everywhere; land offices confronted one at every turn; lawyers, doctors, men of all professions and trades had descended upon this waste of sand and scrub oaks about the lake. Indians walked among the whites; negroes as porters, laborers, bootblacks, were plentiful; there were countless drinking places and new hotels; there were sharpers, adventurers, blacklegs, men of prey of all description, prost.i.tutes, the camp followers of new settlements, houses of vice, restaurants, gardens. And with all the rest of it evidences of fine breeds, and civilizing purposes in some of the residences and activities. After all a city was to be built.

And here we were--a sorry pair indeed! Douglas, worn from his campaigning, battered and frayed; myself, dusty and unkempt, entering Chicago behind a horse dragging its body harnessed in patches to a rattling buggy. We laughed at ourselves.

Douglas and I went to a clothing store where I insisted upon fitting him out with a suit and a hat. We bought a new harness for the horse. Then we set forth for meals and drinks.

Somehow I felt that Zoe might be in some concert hall singing for the means of life. A darker idea crossed my mind, but I put it away. I told Douglas that I meant to find Zoe, if I could. After our meal we went from place to place in this quest. Douglas did not try to dissuade me, but he looked at me keenly as if he wondered why I wished to find Zoe.

Why, after all? As years elapsed I would be rid of all a.s.sociated memory of her in Jacksonville. Might not Dorothy come back to me if she knew that Zoe had wholly vanished from my life? Yet something of a sense of responsibility, and something of an affection for Zoe kept my mind fast to the idea of finding her. Up and down the streets of Chicago Douglas and I walked, looking for Zoe.

Once I heard a woman's voice singing "Annie Laurie." I rushed into the place whence the voice came, followed deliberately and patiently by Douglas. There stood a woman on a sort of platform. She was garishly dressed. There were idlers and drinkers at the table. When we came out Douglas said that the search was useless; that if Zoe was in Chicago she might be in a place so secret that I would never find her, except by chance. Yes, I understood. And if it had come to that, what could I do with Zoe, if I found her?

Chicago was not long in discovering that Douglas, the marvelous boy, was in their midst. He must make an address. They erected a platform and billed the town. I stayed near until Douglas rose to speak. He looked fresh and tidy in his new suit, and with freshly shaven face. I heard his great voice roll out over the large crowd collected to hear him. I heard the applause that welcomed him, that responded to the first thrill of his fluent eloquence. Then I stole away to look for Zoe.

I walked up and down the streets. I stood in drinking places. I entered a few places of vice. I stopped at the rear of a hotel, where the maids were gathered together resting and talking after the day's work. But no Zoe.

At last I went down to the sh.o.r.e of the lake, rather to the sh.o.r.e of the sluice through which the Chicago River widened into the lake in a southerly direction. I sat here on a rude settee. The air was warm.

There were sounds and voices floating over me from the town.

Occasionally I could hear the organ music of Douglas' oratory, as it drifted indistinguishably to me. I was thinking, wondering about my own life; enthralled at the vision of this new country, which I could see taking form before my own eyes. Then I became conscious of a couple on a settee near. I had not noticed them before. I got up and walked past them. And there was Zoe!

It was dusk, but she knew me. She gave a quick start, put her hand to her mouth. The man was silent, looking at her, unconscious of my presence. I divined that she did not want me to speak to her. I heard her say to her companion: "Go back. Leave me here awhile, I want to be alone. I will return soon."

I walked on a distance of a hundred yards or more. Then I looked back. I thought some one, Zoe, or both of them were still on the settee. I could not be sure. I retraced my steps. When I came to the settee the man was some distance away, going toward the town. Zoe motioned to me to walk the way I had come. I did so; loitered and returned. Zoe was now alone.

I sat down beside her; Zoe took my hand.

My first thought was who was the man. Zoe proceeded to tell me that she was working as a domestic, that this man was a voice teacher who had recently arrived in Chicago from New York. I looked at Zoe, as if to ask her what was the nature of the intimacy that would lead her into this a.s.sociation at night in this secluded place by the lake. I followed this by asking: "Are you very good friends?" "He is kind to me," Zoe said.

"He teaches me and we walk out together and talk."

Well, were there not then the usual consequences? Zoe was remarkably beautiful; Zoe's morale had been broken by a terrible experience. She had gone through the disintegration natural to my own difficulties, of which she was the occasion; the killing of Lamborn, the whole condition at Jacksonville. And now, what was Zoe? I could not penetrate her reserve. She stroked my hands affectionately. The tears started from her eyes.

I changed the key by bringing up her interests. "Reverdy is your guardian and I am putting your property in his hands. Don't you need money? Why haven't you sent for money?" "Because," Zoe answered, "I meant to go out of your life, and stay out of your life. Now that you have found me it does not matter. All I could do would be to run off again. But why? This is a wonderful place. I love the excitement, the stir here. And I am in no danger here from being kidnapped. I don't want to go into the country again. I will be all right, James, be sure. But if you want to send me some money I will be glad. Only don't come for me; don't have me known in your life again. I am out of it now. You can't do for me what you could if I was white. Why try? Facts are just what they are. I will be all right here. I am learning to sing. Mr.

Fortescue says that I have a voice. That's his name. He is a good man, you can be sure." "He loves you?" I interrupted. Zoe did not answer. "He wants to marry you?" I said, half interrogatively. "I don't believe I am made for marriage," said Zoe. "Where do you work?" I asked.

Zoe was silent for some seconds, as if thinking. I repeated the question. "Don't ask me that, Mr. James, don't," she said. "I know where you are, I know where to find you. And if you need me I will come to you if I can; but don't ask me where I am." "How can I send you money?"

"Send it to the post office. Send it to Laurette Toombs. That's my name here. But don't try to find me again. I just pray G.o.d all the time that I may never be of any trouble to you; and I am afraid all the time I may." "Why?" I asked quickly. "Oh, I don't know; just because things are what they are. I have already made you a world of trouble. And you have been just as good to me as a brother could be. I just pray G.o.d not to make you any more trouble. I must go." Her voice had grown full of pathos. "Where?" I asked. "Don't follow me, Mr. James, just let me go. I am a grown woman. I must lead my own life. Just be good to me as you have been--don't you understand? I grieve. So be good to me, let me manage myself and manage our meetings, whatever they are. Sit here now while I steal away. Promise me."

Zoe got up, stretched her hands to me, then hurried through the darkness to the town. I followed her with my eyes until she was lost to view. The voice of Douglas by a sudden swell of the air was borne to me. One articulate word fell upon my ears. It was "slavery." His voice lapsed into the silence of the receding breeze. I sat alone for a few minutes.

Then I arose, and went to the place where Douglas was speaking.