After a moment"s pause, he continued, "By the way, did you ever hear the expression "before the Wah"?" I intimated that the expression had not wholly escaped me.
"I heard it once under rather peculiar circ.u.mstances," said John.
"Down in the outskirts of my deestrict, there is an old-time religious sect known as the "hard-sh.e.l.l" or "iron-jacket" Baptists; mighty good, honest people, of course, but old-fashioned in their ways and everlastingly opposed to all new-fangled notions, such as having Temperance societies, Missionary societies, and Sunday schools.
They would, however, die in their tracks before they would ever let up on the good old church doctrines, especially predestination.
Oh, I tell you they were predestinarians from away back. John Calvin with his vapory views upon that question would not have been admitted even on probation. Sometimes the preacher during his sermon, turning to the Amen corner would inquire: "When were you, my brother, predestinated to eternal salvation, or eternal d.a.m.nation?"
"Well, the answer that had come down from the ages always was, "From the foundation of the world."
"When I was making my first race for Congress, I spoke in that neighborhood one Sat.u.r.day, and stayed all night with one of the elders, and on Sunday of course I went to church. During the sermon, the preacher while holding forth as usual on his favorite doctrine, suddenly turning to a stranger who had somehow got crowded into the Amen corner, said: "My brother, when were you predestinated to eternal salvation or eternal d.a.m.nation?" To which startling inquiry the stranger, terribly embarra.s.sed, hesitatingly answered: "I don"t adzactly remember, Parson, but _I think it was befo" the Wah.""_
A comrade of John in Company G was a tow-headed, lantern-jawed fellow who never failed somehow to get to the rear and to a place of comparative safety at the first intimation of approaching battle.
He was proof alike against the gibes of his comrades and the threats of his officers. Upon one occasion the approach of the enemy was heralded by a few sh.e.l.ls bursting suggestively near the spot where Company G was stationed. The tow-headed veteran immediately began preparations to retire. With threatening mien, levelled revolver, and oaths that would have done no discredit to "our army in Flanders," the Captain ordered the skulker back into line, upon pain of instant death. Leaning upon his musket, and with familiar gaze upon his irate superior, the culprit slowly drawled: "I don"t mine bein" muddered by a high-tone Southern gentleman like you, Cappen, but dam if I"m gwyen to eternally disgrace my family by lettin" one of them low-down Yankees shoot me!"
Allen was no exception to the rule that men gifted like himself are subject to occasional seasons of gloom, but his greeting usually came as a benediction. At the banquet table, when dull care was laid aside and he was surrounded by genial companions,--"for "tis meet that n.o.ble minds keep ever with their likes"--his star was at its zenith. Then indeed, all rules were suspended; no point of order suggested--"The man and the hour had met." His marvellous narratives of quaint incidents and startling experiences, his brilliant repartee, sallies of wit, banter, and badinage have rarely been heard since the days of the Round Table or the pa.s.sing of "the Star and Garter."
Once, however, John Allen confessedly met his match in the person of the Hon. John R. Fellows, who had been Colonel of an Arkansas regiment in the Confederate service; later a prominent leader of Tammany Hall, and was at the time mentioned, a Representative in Congress from New York. He was the "Prince Rupert of Debate," and was gifted with eloquence rarely equalled. At a banquet given in his honor upon his retirement from Congress, a hundred or more of his a.s.sociates were guests, including, of course, the subject of this sketch. Men high in councils of State, leaders of both parties, and of both Houses, had gathered around the board, and good-fellowship and mirth reached the high-water mark. By common consent Fellows and Allen were in undisputed possession of the floor. Such pa.s.sages-at-arms no pen can describe. Even "John Chamberlain"s" in its palmiest days has never known the like.
Near the close Allen said:
"There is one thing I would like to have Colonel Fellows explain.
He was captured the first year of the war, and never exchanged, but held as a prisoner by the Federals until the war was over.
I was taken prisoner five times, and always promptly exchanged.
I would like Colonel Fellows to explain how it was that he was kept in a place of safety, while I was always at the front?"
When the applause which followed had subsided, Colonel Fellows arose and said:
"I am grateful to my friend from Mississippi for giving me an opportunity to explain that part of my military record which I apprehend has never been sufficiently clear. It is true. I was taken prisoner the first year of the war, and the enemy, well knowing the danger of my being at large, persistently refused to release me until peace was restored. Had I been promptly exchanged, _the result of that war might have been different!_ But why it was, that my friend from Mississippi was so repeatedly and promptly exchanged is a question that until yesterday I have never been able to understand. It has given me deep concern. I have pondered over it during the silent watches of the night. Yesterday, however, my mind was completely set at rest upon that question by reading the correspondence--to be found in Volume 748, page 421 of the "Record of the War of the Rebellion"--between President Lincoln and President Davis relating to the exchange of Private John Allen of Company G, Fourteenth Mississippi Volunteers. The correspondence covers many pages of this valuable publication, but I will read only the closing communication."
And while John with a new supply of terrapin before him was listening intently, Fellows carefully adjusting his eye-gla.s.ses and taking a letter from his pocket, continued:
"The letter I will read from President Lincoln concluded the correspondence, and is as follows: _"Dear Jeff:_ With this I return you Private John Allen of Company G, Fourteenth Mississippi.
I require no prisoner in exchange. The Lord"s truth is, Jeff, _I had rather fight John than feed him!""_
XXIV AN OLD-TIME COUNTRY DOCTOR
THE WRITER AT HIS INN, THE TRAVELLER"S HOME--DOCTOR JOHN, ONE OF HIS EARLIEST ACQUAINTANCES--THE DOCTOR"S LIBERALITY IN ADMINISTERING MEDICINE--A DISAPPOINTMENT IN EARLY LIFE--THE DOCTOR"S IGNORANCE OF THE "SOLAR SYSTEM"--A DIFFICULTY WITH THE LANDLADY--A QUESTION OF ORTHOGRAPHY--THE DOCTOR AS A MEMBER OF A TOTAL-ABSTINENCE SOCIETY.
Upon my admission to the bar in 1858, I located at Metamora, a village of five hundred inhabitants, about forty miles northwest of Bloomington. It was beautifully and _quietly_ situated, eight miles from the railroad, and was at the time the county-seat of Woodford County, one of the finest agricultural portions of Illinois.
Metamora contained many delightful families, and a cordial welcome was accorded me. The old tavern, "Traveller"s Home," was mine inn, and as a hostelry it possessed rare advantages. The one that chiefly recommended it to me was its extremely moderate charges.
Two dollars and a half per week for board and lodging, "washing and mending" included, were the inviting terms held out to all comers and goers. There was much, however, in the surroundings, appointments, etc., of this ancient inn, little calculated to reconcile delicately toned mortals to things of sense. It was of this place of entertainment that Colonel Ingersoll spoke when, in his description of the tapestry of Windsor Castle, he said that it reminded him of a Metamora table-cloth _the second week of court._
The dear old tavern has fallen a victim to the remorseless tooth of time, but, in the palmy days of Metamora, when it was the county-seat, and the Spring and Fall terms of court were as regular in their coming as the seasons themselves, the old tavern was in its glory, and for all "transients" and "regulars" it was the chief objective point. For a decade or more its walls gave shelter to Judge Treat, Judge Davis, Mr. Lincoln, General Gridley, Judge Purple, and more than once to General Shields and Stephen A. Douglas.
At a later date it was upon like occasion the stopping place of Colonel Ingersoll, John Burns, Judge Shaw, James S. Ewing, Robert E.
Williams, Judge Richmond, and other well-known members of the bar.
One of my earliest acquaintances in Metamora, and one not soon to be forgotten, was Doctor John--familiarly called "Doc," except upon state occasions. As I write, the vision of the Doctor arises before me out of the mists of the shadowy past. His personal appearance was indeed remarkable. Standing six feet six in his number elevens, without an ounce of superfluous flesh, a neck somewhat elongated and set off to great advantage by an immense "Adam"s apple," which appeared to be constantly on duty, head large and features a trifle exaggerated, and with iron gray locks hanging gracefully over his slightly stooped shoulders, the Doctor would have given pause to the McGregor, even with foot upon his native heather. He first saw the light of day in the "Panhandle" of the Old Dominion; the part thereof afterwards detached for the formation of the new State.
How this all came about was to the Doctor as inexplicable as the riddle of the Sphinx; but he scouted the thought that he had ever ceased to be a son of "the real old Virginny." He claimed to be a descendant of one of "the first families," and there lingered about him in very truth much of the chivalric bearing of the old cavalier stock. No man living could possibly have invited a gentleman "to partake of some spirits" or "to partic.i.p.ate in a gla.s.s of beer," in a loftier manner than did the Doctor. Not himself a member of the visible church, nor even an occasional attendant upon its service, the heart of the Doctor nevertheless, like that of the renowned Cave Burton, responded feelingly to every earnest supplication "for the preservation of the kindly fruits of the earth to be enjoyed in due season." And with the Doctor, as with Cave, the question of the _quant.i.ty_ of the kindly fruits thus preserved was of far greater moment than any mere matter of sentiment as to their _quality._
The intellectual attainments of the Doctor, it must be admitted, were not of the highest order. He was a student of men rather than of books. He had journeyed but little along the flowery paths of literature. He never gave "local habitation or name" to the particular Medical College which had honored him with its degree.
He was, as he often a.s.serted, of the "epleptic" school of medicine.
In reply to my inquiry as to what that really was, he solemnly a.s.servated that it was the only school which permitted its pract.i.tioners to accept all that was good, and reject all that was bad, of all the other schools. In his practice he had a supreme contempt for what he called "written proscriptions," and often boasted that he never allowed one of them to go out of his office.
He infinitely preferred to compound his own medicines, which, with the aid of mortar and pestle, he did in unstinted measure in his office. On rainy days and during extremely healthy seasons, his stock was thereby largely augmented. In administering his "doses"
his generous spirit manifested itself as clearly as along other lines. No "pent-up Utica" contracted his powers. It has been many times a.s.serted, and with apparent confidence, that no patient of his ever complained of not having received full measure. There were no Oliver Twists among his patients. It was a singular fact in all the professional experience of this eminent pract.i.tioner, that his patients, regardless of age or s.e.x, were all afflicted with a like malady. Many a time as he returned from a professional visit, mounted on his old roan, with his bushel measure medicine bag thrown across his saddle, in answer to my casual inquiry as to the ailment of his patient, he gave in oracular tones, the one all-sufficient reply, _"only a slight derangement of the nervous system."_
He never quite forgave Mr. Lincoln the reply he once made to an ill-advised interruption of the Doctor during a political speech.
"Well, well, Doctor," replied Mr. Lincoln, good-humoredly, "I will take anything from you _except your medicines."_
The Doctor was a bachelor, and his "May of life" had fallen into the sear and yellow leaf at the time of which we write. He was still, however, as he more than once a.s.sured me, an ardent admirer of "the opposing sect."
In one of his most confidential moods, he disclosed to me the startling fact that he had in early life been the victim of a misplaced confidence. In an unguarded moment he entrusted the idol of his heart to the safe keeping of a friend, in the whiteness of whose soul he trusted as in a mother"s love, while he, the confiding Doctor, journeyed westward to seek a home.
"He knew not the doctrine of ill-doing, Nor dreamed that any did."
Alas for human frailty, "the badge of all our race." Upon his return after an absence of several moons, he found to his unspeakable dismay that that same "friend" had taken to wife the idol whose image had so long found lodgment in the Doctor"s own sad heart.
Too late he realized, as wiser men have done before and since, that
"Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love."
The Doctor was much given at times to what he denominated "low down talks" such as are wont when kindred souls hold close converse.
Seated in my office on one occasion, at the hour when churchyards yawn, and being as he candidly admitted in a somewhat "reminiscent" mood, he unwittingly gave expression to thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls, when I made earnest inquiry, "Doctor, what in your judgment as a medical man is to be the final destination of the human soul?" The solemn hour of midnight, together with the no less solemn inquiry, at once plunged the Doctor into deep thought.
First carefully changing his quid from the right to the left jaw, he slowly and as if thoughtfully measuring his words, replied: "Brother Stevenson, _the solar system are one of which I have given very little reflection."_
It is a sad fact that in this world the best of men are not wholly exempt from human frailties. Even in the n.o.ble calling of medicine there have been at times slight outcroppings of a spirit of professional jealousy. That the subject of these brief chronicles was no exception to this infirmity will appear from a remark he once made in regard to a professional contemporary whose practice had gradually encroached upon the Doctor"s beat. Said he: "They talk a good deal about this Doc Wilson"s practice; but I"ll "low that my books will show a greater degree of mortality than what hisn will."
The Doctor was one of the regular boarders at the historic inn already mentioned. By long and faithful service he had won the honored position of chief boarder, and his place by common consent was at the head of the table. No one who ever sat at that delightful board could forget the dignified manner in which the Doctor would take his accustomed seat, and without unnecessary delay proceed to appropriate whatever viands might be within his reach. As a matter of especial grace upon the part of the good landlady, an old-fashioned corn pone and a pitcher of sweet milk appeared occasionally upon the supper table of this most excellent inn. Such visitations were truly regarded, even by the veterans, as very oases in the desert of life. Now, it so happened, that upon a cold December evening, between the first and second tolling of the supper bell, the boarders in anxious expectancy were awaiting the final summons, in a small chamber hard by the dining-room. To this a.s.sembly the writer hereof remarked: "It seems to me, gentlemen, that it has been a long time since we have been favored with pone bread and sweet milk. I therefore move that Doctor John be appointed a committee of one to request Mrs. Sparks to have these delicacies for supper to-morrow night."
A hearty second was immediately given by Whig Ewing, Esq., at a later day distinguished both as an orator and a Judge. Without shadow of opposition the resolution was adopted, and upon summons the boarders were almost immediately thereafter in their accustomed places at the table. Turning to the landlady as she slowly approached with a platter of cold biscuits, the Doctor in most conciliatory tones said: "Mrs. Sparks, at a regular meeting of the borders held this evening I was appointed a committee of one to invite you to have corn pone and sweet milk to-morrow evening." A deep frown at once encircled the fair brow of our hostess. Unlike that of the late Mrs. Tam O"Shanter, her wrath needed no nursing to keep it warm. Advancing a step, and with apparent effort suppressing her emotion, she slowly articulated _"What did you say, Doctor?"_ Presaging danger in the very air, the Doctor repeated in husky tones, "At a regular meeting of the boarders held this evening, I was appointed a committee of one to invite you to have corn bread for supper to-morrow evening." At the repet.i.tion the frown upon the brow of the fair one darkened and deepened. Advancing a step nearer the object of her wrath, she said, "If _you_ or any of the _other_ boarders are dissatisfied with my house, you can leave, _and leave now!"_
With the thermometer at zero and Peoria seventeen miles away, and the Illinois out of its banks, there was little that was comforting in her words. The stillness of the grave was upon that little a.s.sembly. At length, to relieve the strain of the situation, if possible, the writer inquired, "What was your remark, Doctor John?" to which the Doctor, in a tome somewhat hopeful but by no means confident, replied, "I was just remarking to our beloved landlady, brother Stevenson, that at a regular meeting of the boarders held this evening I was appointed a committee to invite her to have corn bread for supper to-morrow night." To which I modestly replied, "Well, if any such meeting as that was ever held, _it is very strange that I heard nothing about it."_ This kindly observation only deepened the gloom, and perceptibly lessened the distance between the irate hostess and the chief boarder. The latter in sheer desperation at length appealed for succor to Ewing, who until this moment, strangely enough, had been an attentive listener. Thus appealed to, the latter, with Prince Albert b.u.t.toned to the very top, and with the statesman"s true pose, said:
"I beg to a.s.sure you, Mrs. Sparks, that I am profoundly ignorant of any such meeting of the boarders as has been indicated. Had I been apprised that such meeting was contemplated I would have attended and used by utmost endeavor to secure the defeat of its ill-timed resolution. Let me say further, madam, that I am not fond of corn bread. The biscuits with which we are nourished from day to day are exactly to my taste, and even if they were a few degrees colder I would cherish them still the more fondly. In the years gone by, madam, I have been a guest at the Astor, the Galt, the St. Charles, and at the best hotels in London and upon the continent of Europe. None of them in my humble judgment are comparable to this. I a.s.sure you solemnly, madam, that I have lingered in this village month after month only because of my reluctance to tear myself away from your most excellent hotel."
With finger raised, step advanced, and eye fixed uncharitably upon the offending physician, the gentle hostess in voice little above a whisper, said, _"Doc, I think you made that up out of whole cloth."_ The crisis was reached; flesh and blood could endure no more. The Doctor rose, and waiving all formalities and farewells, "stood not upon the order of his going."
For reasons unnecessary to explain, I did not seek the Doctor that evening nor the following day. Morning and noon came and went, but the chief boarder did not appear. The vacant chair was to those who lingered a pathetic reminder of the sad departure. When, upon the following evening, the surviving boarders gathered to their accustomed places, they beheld in wonderment a splendid pone, savory and hot, flanked upon its left by the old yellow pitcher filled to its brim with rich, sweet milk.
A moment later, and all eyes were turned to the open door through which a once familiar figure moved to his seat. Suddenly stretching both arms to the middle of the table, with one hand the good Doctor grasped the pone, and with the other the pitcher, and holding both aloft as he gazed upon each boarder in turn, exclaimed, "I understand the boarders are not fond of corn bread." In the twinkling of an eye, the Doctor, _the pitcher, the pone had all disappeared from the dining-room,_ and the latter two were ne"er heard of more.
The poetic justice of the situation, however, was so complete, that no word of complaint was ever uttered.
Some weeks after the events last narrated, I heard the sound of many voices accompanied by peals of laughter coming from the office of Doctor John. Stopping at his door, I soon learned that the tumult was occasioned by a discussion as to whether the Doctor could spell "sugar" correctly. The faction adverse to the physician was led by one William Hawkins, a country schoolmaster. The latter and his allies bantered and badgered the old Doctor to their hearts"
content. Rendered desperate at length by their merciless gibes, the Doctor, taking from his vest pocket a five-dollar bill--one I had loaned him an hour before with which to pay a couple of weeks"
boards--he offered to bet the full amount that he could spell the word correctly. A like amount being at length raised by the adverse faction, the question at once arose as to who should be the arbiter. Observing me for the first time as I stood at the door, the Doctor declared his willingness to accept me as "empire."
It may here be remarked that the honorable office to which I was thus nominated is sometimes called "umpire." Webster, Worcester, and possibly other lexicographers give the latter p.r.o.nunciation the preference. But the Doctor being "an old settler" and much better acquainted in that locality than either of the other authorities, his preference will be recognized, and "empire" it will be to the end of this chapter. At all events my nomination--for the first and only time--was unanimously concurred in. Stepping at once into the office and confronting the leaders of the opposing faction, I stated candidly that while I highly appreciated the distinction tendered, still I was unwilling to accept the responsible position of "empire"
save upon the explicit agreement that, _whatever the decision,_ there should be no complaint or grumbling upon the part of the disaffected or disgruntled hereafter; that "empires" after all were only men and liable to the mistakes and errors incident to our poor humanity. To the end, therefore, that an "empire" act with proper independence, it was all important that his decision pa.s.s unchallenged.
These reasonable requirement being readily acquiesced in, the office was accepted and the money hazarded by each faction carefully deposited in the "empire"s" vest pocket. The arbiter now solemnly addressing the princ.i.p.al actor said: "Doctor, the word is, "sugar"; _proceed to spell."_