Part 12 (1/2)

”No one will dare deny it. We have all known that for years, but no one would dare to make it public. No good can come of its publication; it would ruin you, ruin your influence, ruin your work. You would lose your _Tribune_ engagement, by which you are now doing so much good. We all feel the help you are to the good cause. Do not throw away your influence!”

”Does not the cause of the slave hang on the issue in Congress?”

”I think it does.”

”Is not Mr. Webster's influence all against it?”

”Yes, of course!”

”Would not that influence be very much less if the public knew just what he is?”

”Of course it would, but you cannot afford to tell them. You have no idea what his friends would say, what they would do. They would ruin you.”

I thought a moment, and said:

”I will publish it, and let G.o.d take care of the consequences.”

”Good!” exclaimed Mrs. Julian, clapping her hands. ”I would if I were in your place.”

But when I went to post the letter, I hesitated, walked back and forth on the street, and almost concluded to leave out that paragraph. I shuddered lest Mr. Julian's prediction should prove true. I was gratified by my position on the _Tribune_--the social distinction it gave me and courtesy which had been shown me. Grave Senators went out of their way to be polite, and even pro-slavery men treated me with distinguished consideration. My Was.h.i.+ngton life had been eminently agreeable, and I dreaded changing popularity for public denunciation.

But I remembered my Red Sea, and my motto--”Speak unto the children of Israel that they go forward.” The duty of destroying that pro-slavery influence was plain. All the objections were for fear of the consequences to me. I had said G.o.d should take care of these, and mailed the letter, but I must leave Was.h.i.+ngton. Mr. Greeley should not discharge me. I left the capitol the day after taking my seat in the reporter's gallery, feeling that that door was open to other women.

The surprise with which the Webster statement was received was fully equalled by the storm of denunciation it drew down upon me. The New York _Tribune_ regretted and condemned. Other secular papers made dignified protests. The religious press was shocked at my indelicacy, and fellows of the baser sort improved their opportunity to the utmost. I have never seen, in the history of the press, such widespread abuse of any one person as that with which I was favored; but, by a strange fatality, the paragraph was copied and copied. It was so short and pointed that in no other way could its wickedness be so well depicted as by making it a witness against itself.

I had nothing to do but keep quiet. The accusation was made. I knew where to find the proof if it should be legally called for, and until it was I should volunteer no evidence, and my witnesses could not be attacked or discredited in advance. By and by people began to ask for the contradiction of this ”vile slander.” It was so circ.u.mstantial as to call for a denial. It could not be set aside as unworthy of attention.

What did it mean? Mr. Webster was a prominent candidate for President.

Would his friends permit this story to pa.s.s without a word of denial?

Mr. Julian was right; no one would dare deny the charge. He was, however, wrong in saying it would ruin me. My motive was too apparent, and the revelations too important, for any lasting disgrace to attach to it. On all hands it was a.s.sured that the disclosure had had a telling effect in disposing of a formidable power which had been arrayed against the slave, as Mr. Webster failed to secure the nomination.

Some one started a conundrum: ”Why is Daniel Webster like Sisera?

Because he was killed by a woman,” and this had almost as great a run as the original accusation.

When the National Convention met in Pittsburg, in 1852, to form the Free Democratic party, there was an executive and popular branch held in separate halls. I attended the executive. Very few women were present, and I the only one near the platform. The temporary chairman left the chair, came to me to be introduced, saying:

”I want to take the hand that killed Daniel Webster.”

Henry Wilson was permanent chairman of that convention, and he came, too, with similar address. Even Mr. Greeley continued to be my friend, and I wrote for the _Tribune_ often after that time.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

FUGITIVE SLAVE LAW.

When it became certain that the Fugitive Slave Bill could pa.s.s Congress, but could not command a two-thirds vote to carry it over the a.s.sured veto of President Taylor, he ate a plate of strawberries, just as President Harrison had done when he stood in the way of Southern policy, and like his great predecessor Taylor, died opportunely, when Mr.

Fillmore became President, and signed the bill. When it was the law of the land, there was a rush of popular sentiment in favor of obedience, and a rush of slave-catchers to take advantage of its provisions.

Thousands of slaves were returned to bondage. Whigs and Democrats were still bidding for the Southern vote, and now vied with each other as to who should show most willingness to aid their Southern brethren in the recovery of their lost property. The church also rushed to the front to show its Christian zeal for the wrongs of those brethren, who, by the escape of their slaves, lost the means of building churches and buying communion services, and there was no end of homilies on the dishonesty of helping men to regain possession of their own bodies. All manner of charges were rung about Onesimus, and Paul became the patron saint of slave-catchers.