The Crisis — Complete

  CHAPTER XIV. THE BREACH BECOMES TOO WIDE ABRAHAM LINCOLN!

  At the foot of Breed's Hill in Charlestown an American had been borninto the world, by the might of whose genius that fateful name wassped to the uttermost parts of the nation. Abraham Lincoln was electedPresident of the United States. And the moan of the storm gathering inthe South grew suddenly loud and louder.

  Stephen Brice read the news in the black headlines and laid down thenewspaper, a sense of the miraculous upon him. There again was theangled, low-celled room of the country tavern, reeking with food andlamps and perspiration; for a central figure the man of surpassinghomeliness,--coatless, tieless, and vestless,--telling a story inthe vernacular. He reflected that it might well seem strange yea, andintolerable--to many that this comedian of the country store, this crudelawyer and politician, should inherit the seat dignified by Washingtonand the Adamses.

  And yet Stephen believed. For to him had been vouchsafed the glimpsebeyond.

  That was a dark winter that followed, the darkest in our history. Gloomand despondency came fast upon the heels of Republican exultation. Menrose early for tidings from Charleston, the storm centre. The Unionwas cracking here and there. Would it crumble in pieces before AbrahamLincoln got to Washington?

  One smoky morning early in December Stephen arrived late at the officeto find Richter sitting idle on his stool, concern graven on his face.

  "The Judge has had no breakfast, Stephen," he whispered. "Listen!Shadrach tells me he has been doing that since six this morning, when hegot his newspaper."

  Stephen listened, and he heard the Judge pacing and pacing in his room.Presently the door was flung open, And they saw Mr. Whipple standing inthe threshold, stern and dishevelled. Astonishment did not pause here.He came out and sat down in Stephen's chair, striking the newspaper inhis hand, and they feared at first that his Mind had wandered.

  "Propitiate!" he cried, "propitiate, propitiate, and again propitiate.How long, O Lord?" Suddenly he turned upon Stephen, who was frightened.But now his voice was natural, and he thrust the paper into the youngman's lap. "Have you read the President's message to Congress, sir? Godhelp me that I am spared to call that wobbling Buchanan President. Readit. Read it, sir. You have a legal brain. Perhaps you can tell me why,if a man admits that it is wrong for a state to abandon this Union, hecannot call upon Congress for men and money to bring her back. No, thisweakling lets Floyd stock the Southern arsenals. He pays tribute toBarbary. He is for bribing them not to be angry. Take Cuba from Spain,says he, and steal the rest of Mexico that the maw of slavery may befilled, and the demon propitiated."

  They dared not answer him. And so he went back into his room, shuttingthe door. That day no clients saw him, even those poor ones dependenton his charity whom had never before denied. Richter and Stephen tookcounsel together, and sent Shadrach out for his dinner.

  Three weeks passed. There arrived a sparkling Sunday, brought down thevalley of the Missouri from the frozen northwest. The Saturday had beensoggy and warm.

  Thursday had seen South Carolina leave that Union into which she wasborn, amid prayers and the ringing of bells. Tuesday was to beChristmas day. A young lady, who had listened to a solemn sermon of Dr.Posthelwaite's, slipped out of Church before the prayers were ended,and hurried into that deserted portion of the town about the Court Housewhere on week days business held its sway.

  She stopped once at the bottom of the grimy flight of steps leading toJudge Whipple's office. At the top she paused again, and for a shortspace stood alert, her glance resting on the little table in the corner,on top of which a few thumbed law books lay neatly piled. Once she madea hesitating step in this direction. Then, as if by a resolution quicklytaken, she turned her back and softly opened the door of the Judge'sroom. He was sitting upright in his chair. A book was open in his lap,but it did not seem to Virginia that he was reading it.

  "Uncle Silas," she said, "aren't you coming to dinner any more?"

  He looked up swiftly from under his shaggy brows. The book fell to thefloor.

  "Uncle Silas," said Virginia, bravely, "I came to get you to-day."

  Never before had she known him to turn away from man or woman, but nowJudge Whipple drew his handkerchief from his pocket and blew his noseviolently. A woman's intuition told her that locked tight in his heartwas what he longed to say, and could not. The shiny black overcoat hewore was on the bed. Virginia picked it up and held it out to him, anappeal in her eyes.

  He got into it. Then she handed him his hat. Many people walking homefrom church that morning marvelled as they saw these two on LocustStreet together, the young girl supporting the elderly man over theslippery places at the crossings. For neighbor had begun to look coldlyupon neighbor.

  Colonel Carvel beheld them from his armchair by the sitting-room window,and leaned forward with a start. His lips moved as he closed his Biblereverently and marked his place. At the foot of the stairs he surprisedJackson by waving him aside, for the Colonel himself flung open the doorand held out his hand to his friend. The Judge released Virginia's arm,and his own trembled as he gave it.

  "Silas," said the Colonel, "Silas, we've missed you."

  Virginia stood by, smiling, but her breath came deeply. Had she doneright? Could any good come of it all? Judge Whipple did not go in at thedoor--He stood uncompromisingly planted on the threshold, his head flungback, and actual fierceness in his stare.

  "Do you guess we can keep off the subject, Comyn?" he demanded.

  Even Mr. Carvel, so used to the Judge's ways, was a bit taken aback bythis question. It set him tugging at his goatee, and his voice was notquite steady as he answered:

  "God knows, Silas. We are human, and we can only try."

  Then Mr. Whipple marched in. It lacked a quarter of an hour ofdinner,--a crucial period to tax the resources of any woman. Virginialed the talk, but oh, the pathetic lameness of it. Her own mind waswandering when it should not, and recollections she had tried tostrangle had sprung up once more. Only that morning in church she hadlived over again the scene by Mr. Brinsmade's gate, and it was then thata wayward but resistless impulse to go to the Judge's office had seizedher. The thought of the old man lonely and bitter in his room decidedher. On her knees she prayed that she might save the bond between himand her father. For the Colonel had been morose on Sundays, and hadtaken to reading the Bible, a custom he had not had since she was achild.

  In the dining-room Jackson, bowing and smiling, pulled out the Judge'schair, and got his customary curt nod as a reward. Virginia carved.

  "Oh, Uncle Silas," she cried, "I am so glad that we have a wild turkey.And you shall have your side-bone." The girl carved deftly, feverishly,talking the while, aided by that most kind and accomplished of hosts,her father. In the corner the dreaded skeleton of the subject grinnedsardonically. Were they going to be able to keep it off? There was to beno help from Judge Whipple, who sat in grim silence. A man who feelshis soul burning is not given to small talk. Virginia alone had everpossessed the power to make him forget.

  "Uncle Silas, I am sure there are some things about our trip that wenever told you. How we saw Napoleon and his beautiful Empress drivingin the Bois, and how Eugenie smiled and bowed at the people. I neversaw such enthusiasm in my life. And oh, I learned such a lot of Frenchhistory. All about Francis the First, and Pa took me to see his chateausalong the Loire. Very few tourists go there. You really ought to havegone with us."

  Take care, Virginia!

  "I had other work to do, Jinny," said the Judge.

  Virginia rattled on.

  "I told you that we stayed with a real lord in England, didn't I?" saidshe. "He wasn't half as nice as the Prince. But he had a beautiful housein Surrey, all windows, which was built in Elizabeth's time. They calledthe architecture Tudor, didn't they, Pa?"

  "Yes, dear," said the Colonel, smiling.

  "The Countess was nice to me," continued the girl, "and took me togarden parties. But Lord Jermyn was always talking politics."

  Th
e Colonel was stroking his goatee.

  "Tell Silas about the house, Jinny--Jackson, help the Judge again."

  "No," said Virginia, drawing a breath. "I'm going to tell him about thatqueer club where my great-grand-father used to bet with Charles Fox. Wesaw a great many places where Richard Carvel had been in England. Thatwas before the Revolution. Uncle Daniel read me some of his memoirs whenwe were at Calvert House. I know that you would be interested in them,Uncle Silas. He sailed under Paul Jones."

  "And fought for his country and for his flag, Virginia," said the Judge,who had scarcely spoken until then. "No, I could not bear to read themnow, when those who should love that country are leaving it in passion."

  There was a heavy silence. Virginia did not dare to look at her father.But the Colonel said, gently:

  "Not in passion, Silas, but in sorrow."

  The Judge tightened his lips. But the effort was beyond him, and theflood within him broke loose.

  "Colonel Carvel," he cried, "South Carolina is mad--She is departing insin, in order that a fiendish practice may be perpetuated. If her peoplestopped to think they would know that slavery cannot exist except bymeans of this Union. But let this milksop of a President do his worst.We have chosen a man who has the strength to say, 'You shall not go!'"

  It was an awful moment. The saving grace of it was that respect and lovefor her father filled Virginia's heart. In his just anger ColonelCarvel remembered that he was the host, and strove to think only of hisaffection for his old friend.

  "To invade a sovereign state, sir, is a crime against the sacred spiritof this government," he said.

  "There is no such thing as a sovereign state, sir," exclaimed the Judge,hotly. "I am an American, and not a Missourian."

  "When the time comes, sir," said the Colonel, with dignity, "Missouriwill join with her sister sovereign states against oppression."

  "Missouri will not secede, sir."

  "Why not, sir!" demanded the Colonel.

  "Because, sir, when the worst comes, the Soothing Syrup men will rallyfor the Union. And there are enough loyal people here to keep herstraight."

  "Dutchmen, sir! Hessians? Foreign Republican hirelings, sir," exclaimedthe Colonel, standing up. "We shall drive them like sheep if they opposeus. You are drilling them now that they may murder your own blood whenyou think the time is ripe."

  The Colonel did not hear Virginia leave the room, so softly had shegone, He made a grand figure of a man as he stood up, straight and tall,those gray eyes a-kindle at last. But the fire died as quickly as it hadflared. Pity had come and quenched it,--pity that an unselfish lifeof suffering and loneliness should be crowned with these. The Colonellonged then to clasp his friend in his arms. Quarrels they had hadby the hundred, never yet a misunderstanding. God had given to SilasWhipple a nature stern and harsh that repelled all save the charitablefew whose gift it was to see below the surface, and Colonel Carvel hadbeen the chief of them. But now the Judge's vision was clouded.

  Steadying himself by his chair, he had risen glaring, the loose skintwitching on his sallow face. He began firmly but his voice shook ere hehad finished.

  "Colonel Carvel," said he, "I expect that the day has come when yougo your way and I go mine. It will be better if--we do not meet again,sir."

  And so he turned from the man whose friendship had stayed him for thescore of years he had battled with his enemies, from that house whichhad been for so long his only home. For the last time Jackson cameforward to help him with his coat. The Judge did not see him, nor did hesee the tearful face of a young girl leaning over the banisters above.Ice was on the stones. And Mr. Whipple, blinded by a moisture strange tohis eyes, clung to the iron railing as he felt his way down the steps.Before he reached the bottom a stronger arm had seize his own, and washelping him.

  The Judge brushed his eyes with his sleeve, and turned a defiant faceupon Captain Elijah Brent--then his voice broke. His anger wassuddenly gone, and his thought had flown back to the Colonel's thousandcharities.

  "Lige," he said, "Lige, it has come."

  In answer the Captain pressed the Judge's hand, nodding vigorously tohide his rising emotion. There was a pause.

  "And you, Lige?" said Mr. Whipple, presently.

  "My God!" cried the Captain, "I wish I knew."

  "Lige," said the Judge, gravely, "you're too good a man to be forSoothing Syrup."

  The Captain choked.

  "You're too smart to be fooled, Lige," he said, with a note near topleading. "The time has come when you Bell people and the Douglas peoplehave got to decide. Never in my life did I know it to do good to dodgea question. We've got to be white or black, Lige. Nobody's got muchuse for the grays. And don't let yourself be fooled with ConstitutionalUnion Meetings, and compromises. The time is almost here, Lige, when itwill take a rascal to steer a middle course."

  Captain Lige listened, and he shifted from one foot to the other, andrubbed his hands, which were red. Some odd trick of the mind had putinto his head two people--Eliphalet Hopper and Jacob Cluyme. Was he likethem?

  "Lige, you've got to decide. Do you love your country, sir? Can you lookon while our own states defy us, and not lift a hand? Can you sit stillwhile the Governor and all the secessionists in this state are plottingto take Missouri, too, out of the Union? The militia is riddled withrebels, and the rest are forming companies of minute men."

  "And you Black Republicans," the Captain cried "have organized yourDutch Wideawakes, and are arming them to resist Americans born."

  "They are Americans by our Constitution, sir, which the South pretendsto revere," cried the Judge. "And they are showing themselves betterAmericans than many who have been on the soil for generations."

  "My sympathies are with the South," said the Captain, doggedly, "and mylove is for the South."

  "And your conscience?" said the Judge.

  There was no answer. Both men raised their eyes to the house of himwhose loving hospitality had been a light in the lives of both. When atlast the Captain spoke, his voice was rent with feeling.

  "Judge," he began, "when I was a poor young man on the old 'Vicksburg',second officer under old Stetson, Colonel Carvel used to take me up tohis house on Fourth Street to dinner. And he gave me the clothes onmy back, so that I might not be ashamed before the fashion which camethere. He treated me like a son, sir. One day the sheriff sold theVicksburg. You remember it. That left me high and dry in the mud.Who bought her, sir? Colonel Carvel. And he says to me, 'Lige, you'recaptain now, the youngest captain on the river. And she's your boat. Youcan pay me principal and interest when you get ready.'

  "Judge Whipple, I never had any other home than right in, this house. Inever had any other pleasure than bringing Jinny presents, and tryin' toshow 'em gratitude. He took me into his house and cared for me at a timewhen I wanted to go to the devil along with the stevedores when I wasa wanderer he kept me out of the streets, and out of temptation. Judge,I'd a heap rather go down and jump off the stern of my boat than step inhere and tell him I'd fight for the North."

  The Judge steadied himself on his hickory stick and walked off withouta word. For a while Captain Lige stood staring after him. Then he slowlyclimbed the steps and disappeared.