CHAPTER XI

PETER CARTWRIGHT ARRIVES

It was on a September day that the famous Peter Cartwright jogged into New Salem on a stiff-legged pony, and drew up before Rutledge Inn.

His visit had been long expected and great preparations had been made for the camp-meeting which was to be held in the Springfield district in a few days.

No announcement had been made of the time Peter Cartwright would arrive, yet in that mysterious way that news spreads over a small town, even while he was yet removing the saddle bags from his tired pony, sightseers had congregated on the opposite side of the street, and before sun-down everybody in town knew that the great preacher was stopping for the night at Rutledge Inn.

Abe Lincoln had been invited to the Inn, with the select few who often made the little party, to meet Rev. Peter Cartwright. They met a rather small, wiry man with bright fox-like eyes, and hair inclined to be curly, which stood out in every direction on a round head.

He talked freely, criticizing in no unmeasured terms such preachers as preach not against slavery, dram drinking, dancing, or the putting on of costly apparel and jewelry. Then with a twinkle in his small, bright eye, he said that his risibilities were often hard to keep down owing to some things that happened as he traveled his circuit, and he told them an incident:

"I rode one day into Springfield to transact a little business. My horse had at one time been an excellent pony, but now had the stiff complaint. I stopped for a few moments into a store to purchase a few articles, and I saw in the store a young lady in company with two young men; we were perfect strangers; they soon passed out and rode off. After transacting my business I left the store, mounted my stiff pony, and set out for home. After riding some distance, I saw just ahead of me a two-horse wagon, with the cover rolled up. It was warm weather, and I saw in the wagon those two young men and the young lady that I had seen in the store. As I drew near them they began to sing one of our camp-meeting songs, and they appeared to sing with great animation. Presently the young lady began to shout, and said 'Glory to God! Glory to God!' The driver cried out 'Amen, Glory to God!'

"My first impressions were that they had been across the Sangamon River to a camp-meeting that I knew was in progress there, and had obtained religion, and were happy. As I drew a little nearer, the young lady began to sing and shout again. The young man who was not driving fell down and cried aloud for mercy; the other two shouting at the top of their voices, cried out, 'Glory to God! another sinner's down.' Then they began to exhort the young man that was down, saying, 'Pray on, brother; pray on, brother; you will soon get religion'; and up jumped the young man that was down, shouting aloud, saying, 'God has blessed my soul. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Glory to God!'

"Thinking all was right, I felt like riding up and joining in the songs of triumph and shouts of joy that rose from these three happy persons; but, as I neared the wagon, I saw them cast glances at each other and at me, and I suspected then that they were making a mock of religious things, and, knowing me to be a preacher, wished to fool me. I stopped my horse and fell back, and rode slowly, thinking they would ride on, and so not annoy me any more; but when I checked my horse and went slow, they slackened their pace and went slow too, and the driver changed places with the other young man; then they began again to sing and shout at a furious rate and down fell the first driver, and up went a new shout of 'Glory to God! another sinner's down. Pray on, brother; pray on, brother; the Lord will bless you.' Presently up sprang the driver, saying, 'Glory to God! He has blessed me.' And both the others shouted and said, 'Another sinner's converted, another sinner's converted. Hallelujah! Glory to God!' A rush of indignant feeling came all over me, and I felt as if I wanted to ride up and horsewhip both of these rowdies, and if a lady had not been present I might have done so, but, as it was, I did not. It was a vexatious encounter; if my horse had been fleet, as in former days, I could have rode right off and left them in their glory, but he was stiff, and when I would fall back and go slow, they would check up; and when I would spur my stiff pony and try to get ahead of them they would crack the whip and keep ahead of me; and thus they tormented me until my patience was entirely exhausted. They kept up a continual roar of 'Another sinner's down! Another soul's converted! Glory to God! Pray on, brother! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Glory to God!' and I felt it was more than any good minister ought to bear.

"I cannot describe my feelings at this time. It seemed that I was delivered over to be tormented by the devil and his imps. Just at this moment I thought of a terrible mud-hole about a quarter of a mile ahead. It was a long one and very deep mud, and many teams had stuck in it, and had to be pried out. Near the center of this mud-hole there was a place of mud deeper than anywhere else. On the right stood a stump about two feet high; all the wagons had to be driven close to this stump so as to avoid a deep rut on the left, where many wagons had stuck. I knew where there was a small bridle way that wound round through the brush to avoid the mud, and the thought occurred to me that, when we came up to this muddy place, I would take the bridle way, and put my horse at the top of his speed and by so doing get away from these miserable tormentors, as I knew they could not drive fast through this long plot of mud. When we drove near to the commencement of the mud I took the bridle path, and put spurs and whip to my horse. Perceiving that I was rapidly leaving them in the rear, their driver cracked his whip, and put his horses at almost full speed, and such was their anxiety to keep up with me to carry out their sport that, when they came to this bad place, they never saw the stump on the right. The fore wheel of the wagon struck centrally on the stump, and as the wheel mounted the stump over went the wagon. Fearing it would turn entirely over and catch them under, the two young men took a leap into the mud, and when they lighted they sunk up to their middle. The young lady was dressed in white, and as the wagon went over, she sprang as far as she could, and lighted on all fours; her hands sunk into the mud up to her armpits, her mouth and the whole of her face immersed in the muddy water, and she certainly would have strangled if the young man had not relieved her. I rode up to the edge of the mud, stopped my horse, reared in my stirrups and shouted at the top of my voice:

"'Glory to God! Glory to God! Hallelujah! another sinner's down! Glory to God! Hallelujah! Glory! Hallelujah!'

"If ever youngsters felt mean those did; and well they might, for they had carried on all this sport to make light of religion, and to insult a minister, a total stranger to them. But they contemned religion, and hated Methodists, especially Methodist preachers.

"When I became tired of shouting over them, I said to them: 'Now you poor, dirty, mean sinners, take this as a just judgment of God upon you for your meanness, and repent of your dreadful wickedness; and let this be the last time that you attempt to insult a preacher; for if you repeat your abominable sport and persecutions, the next time God will serve you worse, and the devil will get you.'

"They felt so badly that they never uttered one word of reply. Now I was very glad that I did not horsewhip them, as I felt like doing; but that God had avenged His own cause, and defended His own honor without my doing it with carnal weapons. Later, at one of my prosperous camp-meetings, I had the great pleasure to see all three of these young people converted to God, and I took them into the Methodist Church."[1]

Cartwright's mission was not, however, story-telling, as was soon made evident. "Time is bearing on us," he said, "toward the Judgment. Are we prepared? _This_ is the question--it is the _one great_ question. Brethren and sisters, is every soul here prepared to meet his God? Let me see." There was a general indication that those present were. Abe Lincoln did not signify readiness. "We are going to pray," Cartwright said, "and you, my young friend," addressing him, "should humble yourself and call to God for deliverance from hell, for surely the enemy of man's soul is on his track, and damnation is the eternal punishment of the unsaved. Fear hell and flee to God."

"But I don't fear hell," Abe Lincoln said comfortably.

"Don't fear hell?" and there was both condemnation and surprise in Cartwright's tone as he repeated the words. "By such unbelief you question the existence of God."

"No--I don't question the existence of God, but I would if I believed eternal damnation. You see, parson, you and me don't measure God by the same yardstick."

"But to doubt hell is to doubt God. The same inspired book is the authority for both."

"For some, maybe, but not for others. Old Snoutful Kelly brought a child into the world without never once askin' her whether she wanted to come or not. Then he moved her to Muddy Point where there was nothin' but mud, without askin' her if she wanted to go. Then he told her to keep out of the mud, and when she couldn't he gave her a black eye. Having knocked her blind, he told her if she got into the mud again he'd 'souse her in a mud-hole to her ears and leave her there for the buzzards to pick her eyes out.' Now you say God brings us here children into this world without askin' nothin' about it, where there's devilment all about us, and we didn't put that here, either. Then you have God give us a black eye with this original sin you preach about, which makes us sin whether we want to or not, and when He gets us He promises hell fire and eternal damnation for gettin' into sin. This here don't sound like God to me. It sounds like Snoutful Kelly."

The silence that followed this statement was the kind that seems reduced to pound-weight. Cartwright stared at the presumptuous youth who had uttered such words. When he could speak, he said: "Coming from the lips of a worm of the dust, I should call such sacrilege--nothing short of blasphemy."

"Might be true if I counted myself among worms, but I don't--I may look like a worm, Brother Cartwright, or a pair of worms, or even four worms of the dust tied together, but I haven't none of that wormy feelin' you hint at, and I don't take stock in wormy religion. The Good Book is full of more upliftin' texts than the wormy ones. I'd forget about hell fire and worms of the dust for a while if I was a preacher."

"What would you preach, Abe?" Mentor Graham asked.

"Want to know, do you?"

"Yes--yes," the answer was given by both Rutledge and Doctor Allen.

Lincoln arose. For a moment he seemed slouchy, bent, and ill at ease. Then he straightened up and announced his text, "'Beloved, now are ye the sons of God, and it does not yet appear what we shall be.'"

As he spoke, a wonderful change came over him. His face lit up, his gestures grew natural and strong, his voice, thin-sounding at first, took on melody, his ill-fitting clothing was forgotten. He seemed for the moment lifted away from his surroundings, and those listening were lifted with him.

As he reached the end of his brief speech and declared, "'And every man that hath this hope in him, purifieth himself,'" he was measuring up to some far heights.

When he finished his short sermon he stood a few seconds. Then his shoulders drooped, the bright spark faded from his eye and gave place to the quiet, almost dull gray, and a quizzical smile softened his face as he said, in sitting down, "Let those who feel like worms be as decent as they can. Let those that feel themselves sons of God go forward toward better things. Isn't this the Scripture, Brother Cartwright?"

The small, bright eyes of the great exhorter were fastened on the face of the homely youth. Here evidently was a specimen whose like he had not seen.

"There be those," answered Cartwright, "who wrest the Scriptures to their own damnation. We were created sons of God to be sure. But we have been separated by the fall of Adam and eternally lost unless we return to the fold by the one way."

"That's just it, which is the right way? Doctor Allen here goes by the Predestinarian gate. Graham goes by the Hard-Shell gate. The New Lights have their way, the Free Wills theirs, the Dunkards and the Shakers have theirs, and you choose the shouting Methodist way. Which of them all is right?"

"Right--Why _I am right_, as I can prove by the Scriptures."

Lincoln laughed.

"Come to hear me preach and I can _prove_ to you that I am right. You're tall and mighty in your own opinion, but I've seen the tall and lofty sons of Belial bite the dust. Come to hear me! I'll get the scales from your eyes and the stiffness out of your knees. Let us pray. To your knees, people," and with fervid honesty and all his consecrated lung power, the great exhorter called on _all_-mighty God to have mercy on the self-satisfied sinner in their midst.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: From "Autobiography of Peter Cartwright."]