“Oh, yes, but Douglas is not educated.  He is not really sound.  He is not deep enough.  He is not—­I hate the word spirituality—­but he hasn’t the right heat, the right light.  I may not be able to put my finger on the exact fault—­it is not exactly demagogy—­but I see him using blocks of people, who are bound together by a common emotion or idea, as a man might use a block of stone for his house.  He picks them up and puts them in the place that suits his own ambition.  There is one thing, however, with which I am inclined to sympathize with Douglas.  His appeal is really more intellectual than emotional.  You see an ocean-bound republic requires imagination to get the thrill out of it, but you can catch anybody in America with a military uniform.  And while Douglas may be a war man, so to speak, he is really too honest to play that game.  I’ll grant him that much.  I think that the Whigs are outplaying him.  And it looks to me that the emotions of America—­what some people might call the conscience of America—­are being drawn away from Douglas by this slavery matter.  Just now territory and railroads are not so strong, or will not be so strong pretty soon as the cry for emancipation.”  “I am glad to hear you say these things,” I said.  “Douglas is only thirty-seven; he will not fully mature his powers for ten years yet.  I have talked with him many times and have known him intimately and I think I understand the man.  He is distrusted in the South simply because he will not bend all law making to the slave interests.  He has just been written down in Chicago on the law of God doctrine.  And yet he stands his ground against both the North and the South without flinching.  He defies his enemies.  He has the very sanity that you have extolled here at this table.  I think he has the only rational solution for this slavery question.  He is a very great man in my opinion.”

“What do you think of Barnum?” asked Aldington.  Abigail looked up and said:  “Yes, I would like to hear a little about Barnum and less about Douglas.  I hear that Jenny Lind is coming to town.”  “It’s to-day,” said Dorothy.  “And don’t we want to see her arrive?  I do, let’s go.”

And we all hurried forth to witness the greetings given to the Swedish nightingale.

CHAPTER XLIV

Barnum had been taken by De Quincey as an epitome of America:  “A great hulk of a continent, that the very moon finds fatiguing to cross, produces a race of Barnums on a pre-Adamite scale, corresponding in activity to its own enormous proportions.”

Barnum had resorted to daily advertising, a great sensationalism to keep up interest in the arrival of the singer.  We went from our table to the pier to see her descend from the steamer.  Triumphal arches of evergreens and flowers had been erected over the way she passed.  A great crowd had collected.  Bands were playing.  Her face came into view.  Shouts arose.  She bowed and smiled to the wild throngs about her as she rode with Barnum to the Astor House.  Here the Swedish and American flags floated in her honor.  New York was in a frenzy of delight.  But the tickets to hear her!  All this excitement had been worked up for use at the box office.  And Aldington could not afford the price.  We wished Abigail and Aldington to be with us.  I therefore submitted to the Barnum extortion for the whole party.