The Crisis — Complete

by Winston Churchill

  Produced by David Widger

  THE CRISIS

  By Winston Churchill

  CONTENTS

  BOOK I

  Volume 1. I. Which Deals With Origins II. The Mole III. The Unattainable Simplicity IV. Black Cattle V. The First Spark Passes VI. Silas Whipple VII. Callers

  Volume 2. VIII. Bellegarde IX. A Quiet Sunday in Locust Street X. The Little House XI. The Invitation XII. "Miss Jinny" XIII. The Party

  BOOK II.

  Volume 3. I. Raw Material. II. Abraham Lincoln III. In Which Stephen Learns Something IV. The Question V. The Crisis VI. Glencoe

  Volume 4. VII. An Excursion VIII. The Colonel is Warned IX. Signs of the Times X. Richter's Scar XI. How a Prince Came XII. Into Which a Potentate Comes XIII. At Mr. Brinsmade's Gate XIV. The Breach becomes Too Wide XV. Mutterings

  Volume 5. XVI. The Guns of Sumter XVII. Camp Jackson XVIII. The Stone that is Rejected XIX. The Tenth of May. XX. In the Arsenal XXI. The Stampede XXII. The Straining of Another Friendship XXIII. Of Clarence

  BOOK III

  Volume 6. I. Introducing a Capitalist II. News from Clarence III. The Scourge of War, IV. The List of Sixty V. The Auction VI. Eliphalet Plays his Trumps

  Volume 7. VII. With the Armies of the West VIII. A Strange Meeting IX. Bellegarde Once More X. In Judge Whipple's Office XI. Lead, Kindly Light

  Volume 8. XII. The Last Card XIII. From the Letters of Major Stephen Brice XIV. The Same, Continued XV. The Man of Sorrows XVI. Annapolis

  THE CRISIS

  BOOK I.

  CHAPTER I. WHICH DEALS WITH ORIGINS

  Faithfully to relate how Eliphalet Hopper came try St. Louis is tobetray no secret. Mr. Hopper is wont to tell the story now, when hisdaughter-in-law is not by; and sometimes he tells it in her presence,for he is a shameless and determined old party who denies the divineright of Boston, and has taken again to chewing tobacco.

  When Eliphalet came to town, his son's wife, Mrs. Samuel D. (or S.Dwyer as she is beginning to call herself), was not born. Gentlemenof Cavalier and Puritan descent had not yet begun to arrive at thePlanters' House, to buy hunting shirts and broad rims, belts andbowies, and depart quietly for Kansas, there to indulge in that; mostpleasurable of Anglo-Saxon pastimes, a free fight. Mr. Douglas had notthrown his bone of Local Sovereignty to the sleeping dogs of war.

  To return to Eliphalet's arrival,--a picture which has much that isinteresting in it. Behold the friendless boy he stands in the prow ofthe great steamboat 'Louisiana' of a scorching summer morning, and lookswith something of a nameless disquiet on the chocolate waters of theMississippi. There have been other sights, since passing Louisville,which might have disgusted a Massachusetts lad more. A certain deckon the 'Paducah', which took him as far as Cairo, was devoted tocattle--black cattle. Eliphalet possessed a fortunate temperament. Thedeck was dark, and the smell of the wretches confined there was worsethan it should have been. And the incessant weeping of some of the womenwas annoying, inasmuch as it drowned many of the profane communicationsof the overseer who was showing Eliphalet the sights. Then afine-linened planter from down river had come in during theconversation, and paying no attention to the overseer's salute cursedthem all into silence, and left.

  Eliphalet had ambition, which is not a wholly undesirable quality.He began to wonder how it would feel to own a few of these valuablefellow-creatures. He reached out and touched lightly a young mulattowoman who sat beside him with an infant in her arms. The peculiar dumbexpression on her face was lost on Eliphalet. The overseer had laughedcoarsely.

  "What, skeered on 'em?" said he. And seizing the girl by the cheek, gaveit a cruel twinge that brought a cry out of her.

  Eliphalet had reflected upon this incident after he had bid the overseergood-by at Cairo, and had seen that pitiful coffle piled aboard asteamer for New Orleans. And the result of his reflections was, thatsome day he would like to own slaves.

  A dome of smoke like a mushroom hung over the city, visible fromfar down the river, motionless in the summer air. A long line ofsteamboats--white, patient animals--was tethered along the levee, andthe Louisiana presently swung in her bow toward a gap in this line,where a mass of people was awaiting her arrival. Some invisible forcelifted Eliphalet's eyes to the upper deck, where they rested, as ifby appointment, on the trim figure of the young man in command of theLouisiana. He was very young for the captain of a large New Orleanspacket. When his lips moved, something happened. Once he raised hisvoice, and a negro stevedore rushed frantically aft, as if he hadreceived the end of a lightning-bolt. Admiration burst from thepassengers, and one man cried out Captain Brent's age--it wasthirty-two.

  Eliphalet snapped his teeth together. He was twenty-seven, and hisambition actually hurt him at such times. After the boat was fast to thelanding stage he remained watching the captain, who was speaking a fewparting words to some passengers of fashion. The body-servants weretaking their luggage to the carriages. Mr. Hopper envied the captain hisfree and vigorous speech, his ready jokes, and his hearty laugh. All therest he knew for his own--in times to come. The carriages, the trainedservants, the obsequiousness of the humbler passengers. For of such isthe Republic.

  Then Eliphalet picked his way across the hot stones of the levee,pushing hither and thither in the rough crowd of river men; dodging themules on the heavy drays, or making way for the carriages of the fewpeople of importance who arrived on the boat. If any recollections ofa cool, white farmhouse amongst barren New England hills disturbed histhoughts, this is not recorded. He gained the mouth of a street betweenthe low houses which crowded on the broad river front. The black mud wasthick under his feet from an overnight shower, and already steaming inthe sun. The brick pavement was lumpy from much travel and near as dirtyas the street. Here, too, were drays blocking the way, and sweaty negroteamsters swinging cowhides over the mules. The smell of many warespoured through the open doors, mingling with the perspiration of theporters. On every side of him were busy clerks, with their suspendersmuch in evidence, and Eliphalet paused once or twice to listen totheir talk. It was tinged with that dialect he had heard, since leavingCincinnati.

  Turning a corner, Eliphalet came abruptly upon a prophecy. A great droveof mules was charging down the gorge of the street, and straight at him.He dived into an entrance, and stood looking at the animals in startledwonder as they thundered by, flinging the mud over the pavements. Acursing lot of drovers on ragged horses made the rear guard.

  Eliphalet mopped his brow. The mules seemed to have aroused in him somesense of his atomity, where the sight of the pillar of smoke and of theblack cattle had failed. The feeling of a stranger in a strange landwas upon him at last. A strange land, indeed! Could it be one with hisnative New England? Did Congress assemble from the Antipodes? Wasn't thegreat, ugly river and dirty city at the end of the earth, to be writtenabout in Boston journals?

  Turning in the doorway, he saw to his astonishment a great store, withhigh ceilings supported by columns. The door was stacked high withbales of dry goods. Beside him was a sign in gold lettering, "Carvel andCompany, Wholesale Dry Goods." And lastly, looking down upon him witha quizzical expression, was a gentleman. There was no mistaking thegentleman. He was cool, which Eliphalet was not. And the fact is themore remarkable because the gentleman was attired according to thefashion of the day for men of his age, in a black coat with a teal ofruffled shirt
showing, and a heavy black stock around his collar. He hada white mustache, and a goatee, and white hair under his black felt hat.His face was long, his nose straight, and the sweetness of its smile hada strange effect upon Eliphalet, who stood on one foot.

  "Well, sonny, scared of mules, are you?" The speech is a stately drawlvery different from the nasal twang of Eliphalet's bringing up. "Reckonyou don't come from anywhere round here?"

  "No, sir," said Eliphalet. "From Willesden, Massachusetts."

  "Come in on the 'Louisiana'?"

  "Yes, sir." But why this politeness?

  The elderly gentleman lighted a cigar. The noise of the rushing muleshad now become a distant roar, like a whirlwind which has swept by. ButEliphalet did not stir.

  "Friends in town?" inquired the gentleman at length.

  "No, sir," sighed Mr. Hopper.

  At this point of the conversation a crisp step sounded from behind andwonderful smile came again on the surface.

  "Mornin', Colonel," said a voice which made Eliphalet jump. And he swungaround to perceive the young captain of the Louisiana.

  "Why, Captain Lige," cried the Colonel, without ceremony, "and how doyou find yourself to-day, suh? A good trip from Orleans? We did not lookfor you so soon."

  "Tolluble, Colonel, tolluble," said the young man, grasping theColonel's hand. "Well, Colonel, I just called to say that I got theseventy bales of goods you wanted."

  "Ephum" cried the Colonel, diving toward a counter where glasseswere set out,--a custom new to Eliphalet,--"Ephum, some of that veryparticular Colonel Crittenden sent me over from Kentucky last week."

  An old darkey, with hair as white as the Colonel's, appeared from behindthe partition.

  "I 'lowed you'd want it, Marse Comyn, when I seed de Cap'n comin'," saidhe, with the privilege of an old servant. Indeed, the bottle was beneathhis arm.

  The Colonel smiled.

  "Hope you'se well, Cap'n," said Ephum, as he drew the cork.

  "Tolluble, Ephum," replied the Captain. "But, Ephum--say, Ephum!"

  "Yes, sah."

  "How's my little sweetheart, Ephum?"

  "Bress your soul, sah," said Ephum, his face falling perceptibly, "bressyour soul, sah, Miss Jinny's done gone to Halcyondale, in Kaintuck, tosee her grandma. Ole Ephum ain't de same nigger when she's away."

  The young Captain's face showed as much disappointment as the darkey's.

  "Cuss it!" said he, strongly, "if that ain't too bad! I brought her aCreole doll from New Orleans, which Madame Claire said was dressed finerthan any one she'd ever seen. All lace and French gewgaws, Colonel. Butyou'll send it to her?"

  "That I will, Lige," said the Colonel, heartily. "And she shall writeyou the prettiest note of thanks you ever got."

  "Bless her pretty face," cried the Captain. "Her health, Colonel! Here'sa long life to Miss Virginia Carvel, and may she rule forever! How olddid you say this was?" he asked, looking into the glass.

  "Over half a century," said Colonel Carvel.

  "If it came from the ruins of Pompeii," cried Captain Brent, "it mightbe worthy of her!"

  "What an idiot you are about that child, Lige," said the Colonel, whowas not hiding his pleasure. The Colonel could hide nothing. "You ruinher!"

  The bluff young Captain put down his glass to laugh.

  "Ruin her!" he exclaimed. "Her pa don't ruin her I eh, Ephum? Her padon't ruin her!"

  "Lawsy, Marse Lige, I reckon he's wuss'n any."

  "Ephum," said the Colonel, pulling his goatee thoughtfully, "you're adamned impertinent nigger. I vow I'll sell you South one of these days.Have you taken that letter to Mr. Renault?" He winked at his friend asthe old darkey faded into the darkness of the store, and continued: "DidI ever tell you about Wilson Peale's portrait of my grandmother, DorothyCarvel, that I saw this summer at my brother Daniel's, in Pennsylvania?Jinny's going to look something like her, sir. Um! She was a fine woman.Black hair, though. Jinny's is brown, like her Ma's." The Colonel handeda cigar to Captain Brent, and lit one himself. "Daniel has a book mygrandfather wrote, mostly about her. Lord, I remember her! She wasthe queen-bee of the family while she lived. I wish some of us had herspirit."

  "Colonel," remarked Captain Lige, "what's this I heard on the levee justnow about your shootin' at a man named Babcock on the steps here?"

  The Colonel became very grave. His face seemed to grow longer as hepulled his goatee.

  "He was standing right where you are, sir," he replied (Captain Ligemoved), "and he proposed that I should buy his influence."

  "What did you do?"

  Colonel Carvel laughed quietly at the recollection

  "Shucks," said he, "I just pushed him into the streets gave him a littlestart, and put a bullet past his ear, just to let the trash know thesound of it. Then Russell went down and bailed me out."

  The Captain shook with laughter. But Mr. Eliphalet Hopper's eyes wereglued to the mild-mannered man who told the story, and his hair roseunder his hat.

  "By the way, Lige, how's that boy, Tato? Somehow after I let you havehim on the 'Louisiana', I thought I'd made a mistake to let him run theriver. Easter's afraid he'll lose the little religion she taught him."

  It was the Captain's turn to be grave.

  "I tell you what, Colonel," said he; "we have to have hands, of course.But somehow I wish this business of slavery had never been started!"

  "Sir," said the Colonel, with some force, "God made the sons of Ham theservants of Japheth's sons forever and forever."

  "Well, well, we won't quarrel about that, sir," said Brent, quickly."If they all treated slaves as you do, there wouldn't be any cryfrom Boston-way. And as for me, I need hands. I shall see you again,Colonel."

  "Take supper with me to-night, Lige," said Mr. Carvel. "I reckon you'llfind it rather lonesome without Jinny."

  "Awful lonesome," said the Captain. "But you'll show me her letters,won't you?"

  He started out, and ran against Eliphalet.

  "Hello!" he cried. "Who's this?"

  "A young Yankee you landed here this morning, Lige," said the Colonel."What do you think of him?"

  "Humph!" exclaimed the Captain.

  "He has no friends in town, and he is looking for employment. Isn't thatso, sonny?" asked the Colonels kindly.

  "Yes."

  "Come, Lige, would you take him?" said Mr. Carvel.

  The young Captain looked into Eliphalet's face. The dart that shotfrom his eyes was of an aggressive honesty; and Mr. Hopper's, after anattempt at defiance, were dropped.

  "No," said the Captain.

  "Why not, Lige?"

  "Well, for one thing, he's been listening," said Captain Lige, as hedeparted.

  Colonel Carvel began to hum softly to himself:--

  "'One said it was an owl, and the other he said nay, One said it was a church with the steeple torn away, Look a' there now!'

  "I reckon you're a rank abolitionist," said he to Eliphalet, abruptly.

  "I don't see any particular harm in keepin' slaves," Mr. Hopper replied,shifting to the other foot.

  Whereupon the Colonel stretched his legs apart, seized his goatee,pulled his head down, and gazed at him for some time from under hiseyebrows, so searchingly that the blood flew to Mr. Hopper's fleshyface. He mopped it with a dark-red handkerchief, stared at everythingin the place save the gentleman in front of him, and wondered whether hehad ever in his life been so uncomfortable. Then he smiled sheepishly,hated himself, and began to hate the Colonel.

  "Ever hear of the Liberator?"

  "No, sir," said Mr. Hopper.

  "Where do you come from?" This was downright directness, from whichthere was no escape.

  "Willesden, Massachusetts."

  "Umph! And never heard of Mr. Garrison?"

  "I've had to work all my life."

  "What can you do, sonny?"

  "I cal'late to sweep out a store. I have kept books," Mr. Hoppervouchsafed.

  "Would you like work here?" asked the Colonel, kindly. The green e
yeslooked up swiftly, and down again.

  "What'll you give me?"

  The good man was surprised. "Well," said he, "seven dollars a week."

  Many a time in after life had the Colonel reason to think over thisscene. He was a man the singleness of whose motives could not bequestioned. The one and sufficient reason for giving work to a homelessboy, from the hated state of the Liberator, was charity. The Colonel hadhis moods, like many another worthy man.

  The small specks on the horizon sometimes grow into the hugest ofthunder clouds. And an act of charity, out of the wisdom of God, mayproduce on this earth either good or evil.

  Eliphalet closed with the bargain. Ephum was called and told to leadthe recruit to the presence of Mr. Hood, the manager. And he spent theremainder of a hot day checking invoices in the shipping entrance onSecond Street.

  It is not our place here to chronicle Eliphalet's faults. Whatever hemay have been, he was not lazy. But he was an anomaly to the rest of theyoung men in the store, for those were days when political sentimentsdecided fervent loves or hatreds. In two days was Eliphalet's reputationfor wisdom made. During that period he opened his mouth to speak buttwice. The first was in answer to a pointless question of Mr. Barbo's(aetat 25), to the effect that he, Eliphalet Hopper, was a PierceDemocrat, who looked with complacency on the extension of slavery.This was wholly satisfactory, and saved the owner of these sentimentsa broken head. The other time Eliphalet spoke was to ask Mr. Barbo todirect him to a boardinghouse.

  "I reckon," Mr. Barbo reflected, "that you'll want one of themCongregational boarding-houses. We've got a heap of Yankees in the town,and they all flock together and pray together. I reckon you'd ruther goto Miss Crane's nor anywhere."

  Forthwith to Miss Crane's Eliphalet went. And that lady, being a Greekherself, knew a Greek when she saw one. The kind-hearted Barbo lingeredin the gathering darkness to witness the game which ensued, a game dearto all New Englanders, comical to Barbo. The two contestants calculated.Barbo reckoned, and put his money on his new-found fellow-clerk.Eliphalet, indeed, never showed to better advantage. The shyness hehad used with the Colonel, and the taciturnity practised on hisfellow-clerks, he slipped off like coat and waistcoat for the battle.The scene was in the front yard of the third house in Dorcas Row.Everybody knows where Dorcas Row was. Miss Crane, tall, with all theseverity of side curls and bombazine, stood like a stone lioness at thegate. In the background, by the steps, the boarders sat, an interestedgroup. Eliphalet girded up his loins, and sharpened his nasal twang tocope with hers. The preliminary sparring was an exchange of compliments,and deceived neither party. It seemed rather to heighten mutual respect.

  "You be from Willesden, eh?" said Crane. "I calculate you know theSalters."

  If the truth were known, this evidence of an apparent omniscience ratherstaggered Eliphalet. But training stood by him, and he showed no dismay.Yes, he knew the Salters, and had drawed many a load out of HiramSalters' wood-lot to help pay for his schooling.

  "Let me see," said Miss Crane, innocently; "who was it one of themSalters girls married, and lived across the way from the meetin'-house?"

  "Spauldin'," was the prompt reply.

  "Wal, I want t' know!" cried the spinster: "not Ezra Spauldin'?"

  Eliphalet nodded. That nod was one of infinite shrewdness whichcommended itself to Miss Crane. These courtesies, far from makingawkward the material discussion which followed; did not affect it in theleast.

  "So you want me to board you?" said she, as if in consternation.

  Eliphalet calculated, if they could come to terms. And Mr. Barbo keyedhimself to enjoyment.

  "Single gentlemen," said she, "pay as high as twelve dollars." And sheadded that they had no cause to complain of her table.

  Eliphalet said he guessed he'd have to go somewhere else. Upon this thelady vouchsafed the explanation that those gentlemen had high positionsand rented her large rooms. Since Mr. Hopper was from Willesden and knewthe Salters, she would be willing to take him for less. Eliphalet saidbluntly he would give three and a half. Barbo gasped. This particularkind of courage was wholly beyond him.

  Half an hour later Eliphalet carried his carpet-bag up three flights andput it down in a tiny bedroom under the eaves, still pulsing withheat waves. Here he was to live, and eat at Miss Crane's table for theconsideration of four dollars a week.

  Such is the story of the humble beginning of one substantial prop of theAmerican Nation. And what a hackneyed story it is! How many other youngmen from the East have travelled across the mountains and floated downthe rivers to enter those strange cities of the West, the growth ofwhich was like Jonah's gourd.

  Two centuries before, when Charles Stuart walked out of a window inWhitehall Palace to die; when the great English race was in the throesof a Civil War; when the Stern and the Gay slew each other at Naseby andMarston Moor, two currents flowed across the Atlantic to the New World.Then the Stern men found the stern climate, and the Gay found thesmiling climate.

  After many years the streams began to move again, westward, everwestward. Over the ever blue mountains from the wonderland of Virginiainto the greater wonderland of Kentucky. And through the marvels of theInland Seas, and by white conestogas threading flat forests and floatingover wide prairies, until the two tides met in a maelstrom as fierce asany in the great tawny torrent of the strange Father of Waters. A cityfounded by Pierre Laclede, a certain adventurous subject of Louis whodealt in furs, and who knew not Marly or Versailles, was to be the placeof the mingling of the tides. After cycles of separation, Puritan andCavalier united on this clay-bank in the Louisiana Purchase, and sweptwestward together--like the struggle of two great rivers when they meetthe waters for a while were dangerous.

  So Eliphalet was established, among the Puritans, at Miss Crane's. Thedishes were to his taste. Brown bread and beans and pies were plentiful,for it was a land of plenty. All kinds of Puritans were there, and theyattended Mr. Davitt's Congregational Church. And may it be added injustice to Mr. Hopper, that he became not the least devout of theboarders.