Something of Men I Have Known / With Some Papers of a General Nature, Political, Historical, and Retrospective

by Adlai E. Stevenson

XII THE OLD RANGER

JOHN REYNOLDS, GOVERNOR OF ILLINOIS, A BORN POLITICIAN—HIS KNOWLEDGE OF THE PEOPLE—HIS AFFECTATION OF HUMILITY—ADMITTED TO THE BAR —HE CONDEMNS A MURDERER TO DEATH—HIS CURIOUS ADDRESS TO ANOTHER MURDERER—BECOMES A MEMBER OF THE LEGISLATURE—ELECTED GOVERNOR —HIS GENEROSITY TO HIS POLITICAL ENEMIES—BECOMES A MEMBER OF CONGRESS—HIS ADMIRATION FOR HIS ASSOCIATES—ELECTED A MEMBER OF THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY OF THE STATE—RETIRES TO PRIVATE LIFE.

This world of ours will be much older before the like of John Reynolds, the fourth Governor of Illinois, again appears upon its stage. The title which he generously gave himself in early manhood, upon his return after a brief experience as a trooper in pursuit of a marauding band of Winnebagoes, stood him well in hand in all his future contests for office. "The Old Ranger" was a sobriquet to conjure with, and turned the scales in his favor in many a doubtful contest.

The subject of this sketch was a born politician if ever one trod this green earth. He was a perennial candidate for office, and it was said he never took a drink of water without serious meditation as to how it might possibly affect his political prospects. The late Uriah Heep might easily have gotten a few points in "'umbleness," if he had accompanied the Old Ranger in one or two of his political campaigns.

While Illinois was yet a Territory, his father had emigrated from the mountains of Tennessee and located near the historic village of Kaskaskia. This was at the time the capital of the Territory. The village mentioned was then the most, and in fact, the only, important place in the vast area constituting the present State of Illinois. There were less than five thousand persons of all nationalities and conditions in the Territory, and they mainly in and about Kaskaskia, and southward to the Ohio. Beck's Gazetteer published in 1823—five years after the admission of the State into the Union—contains the following: "Chicago, a village of Pike County, situated on Lake Michigan at the mouth of the Chicago Creek. It contains twelve or fifteen houses, and about sixty or seventy inhabitants."

The acquaintance of John Reynolds with what was then known as "the Illinois Country" began in 1800, and his thorough knowledge of the people and their ways gave him rare opportunities for acquiring great personal popularity. Fairly well educated for the times, gifted with an abundance of shrewdness, and withal an excellent judge of human nature, he soon became a man of mark in the new country. He was at all times and under all circumstances the self-constituted "friend of the people." He affected to be one of the humblest of the sons of men; and his dress, language, and deportment were always in strict keeping with that assumption. For the pride of ancestry he had a supreme contempt. In his "My Own Times," published a few years before his death, he said: "I regard the whole subject of ancestry and descent as utterly frivolous and unworthy of a moment's serious attention."

This recalls what Judge Baldwin said of Cave Burton:

"He was not clearly satisfied that Esau made as foolish a bargain with his brother Jacob as some think. If the birth-right was a mere matter of family pride, and the pottage of agreeable taste, Cave was not quite sure that Esau had not gotten the advantage in his famed bargain with the Father of Israel."

Humility was Reynolds's highest card, and when out among the people he was always figuratively clothed in sackcloth and ashes. A few extracts from his book may be of interest:

"I was a singular spectacle when in 1809 I started to Tennessee to college. I looked like a trapper going to the Rocky Mountains. I wore a cream-colored hat made of the fur of the prairie wolf, which gave me a grotesque appearance. I was well acquainted with the mysteries of horse and foot races, shooting matches, and other wild sports of the backwoods, but had not studied the polish of the ball-room and was sorely beset with diffidence, awkwardness, and poverty."

Later, and when out in pursuit of the Indians, he said: "But diffidence never permitted me to approach an officer's tent, or solicit any one for office."

None the less, the office of Orderly Sergeant being thrust upon him, he managed in his humble way to get through with it passably well.

When the State Government was organized in 1818, while shrinking from even the gaze of men, and spurning from the depths of his soul the arts of politicians, he managed in some way to be designated one of the judges of the Supreme Court of the new State. His admiration for the dispensing hand appears as follows: "Wisdom and integrity, with other noble qualities, gave Governor Bond a high standing with his contemporaries. Wisdom and integrity shed a beacon light around his path through life, showing him to be one of the noblest works of God."

Four years prior to this appointment, he had been admitted to the bar, after "undergoing with much diffidence" his examination. This accomplished, he adds: "In the Winter of 1814, I established a very humble and obscure law-office in the French village of Cahokia, the county seat of St. Clair County." The bearing of the one whose meat was locusts and wild honey, and whose loins were girt about with a leathern girdle, was arrogance itself, when compared with the deportment of the later John in the wilderness at the period whereof we write.

That he was orthodox upon what pertained to medical practice will now appear: "It was the universal practice to give the patient of the bilious disease, first, tartar emetic; next day, calomel and jalap; and the third day, Peruvian bark. This was generally sufficient." The latter statement will hardly be questioned.

How his first visitation of the tender passion was mingled with a relish of philosophy is recorded for the benefit of posterity:

"During all my previous life until within a short time before I married, I had not the least intention of that state of existence, and I expressed myself often to my friends to the same effect; but on the subject of matrimony, a passion influences the parties which generally succeeds. Judgment and prudence should be mixed in equal parts with love and affection in the transaction, to secure a lasting and happy union."

With all his diffidence, however, the Old Ranger happened to turn up at the seat of Government in time "to be persuaded by my friends to be a candidate for a Judgeship. It broke in on me like a clap of thunder." The mite of philosophy with which he excused himself for giving way to the urgent demand of his friends is as follows: "Human nature is easier to persuade to mount upwards than to remain on the common level."

His mind, as will appear, was essentially of the strictly practical cast. He no doubt believed with Macaulay that "one acre in Middlesex is worth a principality in Utopia."

That the Republican simplicity of the new Judge followed him from his "very humble and obscure law-office" to the Bench, will now appear:

"The very first court I held was in Washington County, and it was to me a strange and novel business. I was amongst old comrades with whom I had been raised, ranged in the war with them, and lived with them in great intimacy and equality, so that it was difficult to assume a different relationship than I had previously occupied with them. Moreover I detested a mock dignity. Both the sheriff and clerk were rangers in the same company with myself, and it seemed we were still ranging on equal terms in pursuit of the Indians. The sheriff was of the same opinion and very familiar. He opened court sitting astride on a bench in the Court-house, and without rising, proclaimed: 'The court is now open, and our John is on the bench.'"

It may here be mentioned that the first case of importance that came before Judge Reynolds, was the trial of one William Bennett for murder. He had killed his antagonist in a duel in St. Clair County, for which he suffered the death penalty. This is the only duel ever fought in Illinois. No doubt the prompt execution of Bennett did much to discourage duelling in the State.

In reply to the charge that he had acted with unbecoming levity upon the trial of Bennett, the Judge said, "No human being of my humble capacity could have acted with more painful feelings and sympathy than did I on this occasion." Having thus vindicated himself from the serious charge mentioned, he adds:

"I am opposed to capital punishment in any case where the convict can be kept in solitary confinement without pardoning his life; it was extremely painful and awful to me to be the instrument in the hands of the law to pronounce sentence of death upon my fellow-man, extinguishing him forever from the face of the earth, and depriving him of life, which I think belongs to God and not to man."

He consoles himself, however, as he closes his narrative of this sad affair, that "it never did assume the character of a regular and honorable duel." It is very satisfactory also, even at this distant date, to be assured by the Judge that "the prisoner embraced religion, was baptized, and died happy, before spectators to the number of two thousand or more."

Governor Ford, in his history of Illinois, relates the following incident as characteristic of Judge Reynolds. The latter was holding court in Washington County when one Green was found guilty upon an indictment for murder. The court was near the hour of adjournment for the term, when the prosecuting attorney suggested to the court that the prisoner Green be brought in in order that sentence be passed upon him. "Certainly, certainly," said the Judge, and the prisoner was at once brought in from the jail near by.

"Mr. Green," said the Judge in a familiar tone, "the jury in your case have found you guilty. I want you to understand, Mr. Green, and all your friends down on Indian Creek to know, that it is not I who condemns you, but the jury and the law. The law allows you time for preparation, Mr. Green; and so the court wants to know what time it would suit you to be hung?" The prisoner replying that he was ready to suffer at whatever time the court might appoint, the Judge said;

"Mr. Green, you must know that it is a very serious matter to be hung. It can't happen to a man more than once in his life, and you had better take all the time you can get; the court will give you till this day four weeks. Mr. Clerk, look at the almanac and see if this day four weeks comes on Sunday." The Clerk after examination reported that that day four weeks came on Friday. The Judge then said: "Mr. Green, the court gives you till this day four weeks, and then you are to be hanged."

Whereupon the prosecuting officer, the Hon. James Turney, an able and dignified lawyer, said:

"May it please the court, on solemn occasion like the present, when the life of a human being is to be sentenced away for crime by an earthly tribunal, it is usual and proper for courts to pronounce a formal sentence, in which the leading features of the crime shall be brought to the recollection of the prisoner, a sense of his guilt impressed upon his conscience, and in which the prisoner should be duly exhorted to repentance and warned against the judgment in a world to come."

To which the Judge replied: "Oh, Mr. Turney, Mr. Green understands the whole matter as well as if I had preached to him a month. He knows he has got to be hung this day four weeks. You understand it that way, Mr. Green, don't you?"

"Yes," said the prisoner, upon which the Judge again expressing the hope that he and all his friends down on Indian Creek would understand that it was the act of the jury and of the law, and not of the Judge, ordered the prisoner to be remanded to jail, and the court adjourned for the term.

For some reason, by no means satisfactorily explained, Judge Reynolds retired from the bench at the end of his four years' term. In "Breese," the first volume of Illinois reports, is an opinion by Judge Reynolds which has been the subject of amusing comment by three generations of lawyers. After giving sundry reasons why there was error in the judgment below, the learned Judge concludes: "Therefore, the judgment ought to be reversed; but inasmuch as the court is equally divided in opinion, it is therefore affirmed."

He then resumed the practice of the law, and as he says, "was familiar with the people, got acquainted with everybody, and became somewhat popular. I had no settled object in view other than to make a living, and to continue on my humble, peaceable, and agreeable manner." In view of the aversion already shown to office-holding, the following disclaimer upon the part of the Judge seems wholly superfluous: "I had no political ambition or aspirations for office whatever."

It is gratifying to know that at this time his domestic affairs were in a satisfactory condition: "Plain and unpretending; never kept any liquor in the house—treated my friends to every civility except liquor; used an economy bordering on parsimony."

Under the favorable conditions mentioned, the Judge was enabled to overcome his aversion to holding office, and became a humble member of the State Legislature immediately upon his retirement from the bench. That his "modest aspirations" were on a higher plane than that of ordinary legislators will clearly appear from the following: "I entered this Legislature without any ulterior views, and with an eye single to advance the best interests of the State, and particularly the welfare of old St. Clair County. My only ambition was to acquit myself properly, and to advance the best interests of the country."

Two years later, the aversion of the Old Ranger for office was again overcome, as will appear from the following: "I entered this Legislature, as I had the last, without any pledge or restraints whatever; I then was, and am yet, only an humble member of the Democratic party."

His friends were again on the war-path and the shadow of the chief executive office of the State was now beginning to fall across his pathway. He says:

"It would require volumes to record the transactions of these Legislatures, and of my humble labors in them; but it was my course of conduct in these two sessions of the General Assembly that induced my friends, without any solicitation on my part, to offer me as a candidate for Governor. I was urged not by politicians, but by reasonable and reflecting men, more to advance the interest of the State than my own."

If we did not, from his own lips, know how the Judge loathed "the arts of politicians," we might almost be tempted to conclude from the following that he was one of them:

"I traversed every section of the State, and knew well the people. My friends had the utmost confidence in my knowledge of the people, and when I suggested any policy to be observed, this suggestion was consequently carried out as I requested—thus placing all under one leader."

This, it will be remembered, was in 1830, and neither Reynolds nor Kinney, his competitor, had received a party nomination. Both were of the same party, Kinney being a strong Jackson man of the ultra type, and the Judge only a "plain, humble, reflecting Jackson man."

At one time during the campaign it seemed as if there were real danger of this candidate of the "reflecting men of the State" actually falling into the ways and wiles of politicians. "I often addressed the people in churches, in courthouses, and in the open air, myself occupying literally the stump of a large tree; at times also in a grocery."

The fiery and abusive hand-bills against his competitor he did not attempt to restrain his friends from circulating, "as they had a right to exercise their own judgment"; but he declares he did not circulate one himself. He moreover felicitates himself upon the fact that his conciliatory course gained him votes.

This noted contest lasted eighteen months, as Reynolds says, and, the State being sparsely populated, he enjoyed the personal acquaintance of almost every voter. The fact, as he further states, that his opponent was a clergyman, was a great drawback to him, and almost all the Christian sects, except his own—the anti-missionary Baptists— opposed him. With a candor that does him credit, the Judge admits "the support of the religious people was not so much for me, but against him."

No national issues were discussed, but one point urged by Kinney against the proposed Michigan canal was, "that it would flood the country with Yankees." It would be a great mistake to suppose that Reynolds himself wholly escaped vituperation. On the contrary, he claims the credit of being "the best abused man in the State." He relates that one of the stories told on him was, "that I saw a scarecrow, the effigy of a man in a corn-field, just at dusk, and that I said, 'How are you, my friend? Won't you take some of my hand bills to distribute?'"

Some light is shed on the politics of the good old days of our fathers by the following: "The party rancor in the campaign raged so high that neighborhoods fell out with one another, and the angry and bitter feelings entered into the common transactions of life."

If the contest had lasted a year or two longer it is not improbably that our candidate would have fallen from his high "reflecting" state to the low level of artful politician. "It was the universal custom of the times to treat with liquor. We both did it; but he was condemned for it more than myself by the religious community, he being a preacher of the Gospel."

Some atonement, however, is made for the bad whiskey our model candidate dispensed by the noble sentiment with which he closes this chapter of his contest: "I was, and am yet, one of the people, and every pulsation of our hearts beats in unison."

Having been elected by a considerable majority as he modestly remarks, our Governor-elect falls into something of a philosophical train of thought, and horror of politicians and their wiles and ways again possessed him. He says:

"It may be considered vanity and frailty in me, but when I was elected Governor of the State on fair, honorable principles by the masses, without intrigue or management of party or corrupt politicians, I deemed it the decided approbation of my countrymen, and consequently a great honor."

The admonition of this sage statesman to the rising generation upon the subject of office-seeking, is worthy of profound consideration:

"But were I to live over again another life, I think I would have the moral courage to refrain from aspiring for any office within the gift of the people. By no means do I believe a person should be sordid and selfish in all his actions, yet cannot a person be more useful to the public if he possesses talents in other situations than in office?"

Some memory of the well-known ingratitude of republics evidently entered like iron into his very soul when his memoirs were written:

"Moreover, a public officer may toil and labor all his best days with the utmost fidelity and patriotism, and the masses who reap the reward of his labors frequently permit him, without any particular fault upon his part, to live and die in his old age with disrespect. Witness the punishment inflicted on Socrates, on our Saviour, and many others for no crime whatever. But this contumely and disrespect ought not to deter a good and qualified man from entering the public service, if he is satisfied that the good of the country requires it."

At this point in the career of this eminent public servant, deep sympathy is aroused on account of the conflict between his humility and a not very clearly-defined belief that something was due to the great office to which he had been elevated. As preliminary, however, to accomplishing what was for the best interests of the people it must not be forgotten that "my first object was to soften down the public mind to its sober senses." That no living man was better qualified for the accomplishment of so praiseworthy a purpose will now appear: "It has been my opinion of my humble self, that whatever small forte I might possess was to conciliate and soften down a turbulent and furious people."

This being all satisfactorily accomplished and the abundant reward of the peacemaker in sure keeping for this humble instrument, his efforts were now directed toward the discharge of the duties of the office to which he had so unexpectedly been called.

That this hitherto unquestioned "friend of the people" was now manifesting a slight tendency toward the frailties and vanities of the common run of men, will appear from the following:

"It was my nature not to feel or appear elevated, but I discovered that my appearance and deportment, at times, might look like affected humility or mock modesty, which I sincerely despised, and then I would straighten up a little."

It may be truly said of Reynolds, as Macaulay said of Horace Walpole: "The conformation of his mind was such that whatever was little seemed to him great; and whatever was great, seemed to him little."

Having in his inaugural given expression to the noble sentiment that "proscription for opinion's sake is the worst enemy to the Republic," he at once generously dispelled whatever apprehensions his late opponents might feel as to what was to befall them, by the assurance: "Therefore, all those who honestly and honorably supported my respectable opponent in the last election for Governor shall experience from me no inconvenience on that account." Unfortunately no light is shed upon the interesting inquiry as to what "inconvenience" was experienced by those who had otherwise than "honestly and honorably" supported his respectable opponent in the late contest.

The Black Hawk War was the principal event of the administration of Governor Reynolds. A treaty of peace being concluded, the Indians were removed beyond the Mississippi River. In all this the Governor acquitted himself with credit.

That his aversion to office-holding was in some measure lessening, will appear from the following:

"Being in the office of Governor for some years, I was prevented from the practice of the law, and in the meantime had been engaged in public life until it commenced to be a kind of second nature to me. Moreover, I was then young, ardent, and ambitious, so that I really thought it was right for me to offer for Congress; and I did so, in the Spring of 1834."

An "artful politician" would probably have waited until the expiration of his term as Governor. Not so with this "friend of the people." He was not only elected to the next Congress, but the death of the sitting member for the District creating a vacancy, Reynolds was of course elected to that also, and was thus at one time Governor of the State and member elect both to the next and to the present Congress.

His triumph over his "able and worthy competitor" is accounted for in this wise: "I was myself tolerably well informed in the science of electioneering with the masses of the people. I was raised with the people, and was literally one of them. We always acted together, and our common instincts, feelings and interests were the same." He here modestly ventured the opinion that his "efforts on the stump, while making no pretension to classic eloquence, yet flowing naturally from the heart, supplied in them many defects."

A mite of self-approval, tinged with a philosophy which appears to have been always kept on tap, closes this chapter of his remarkable career. He says:

"I sincerely state that I never regarded as important the salary of the office, but I entered public office with a sincere desire to advance the best interest of the country, which was my main reward. If a person would subdue his ambition for office and remain a private citizen, he would be a more happy man."

That he must have been the most miserable of men, during the greater part of his long life, clearly appears from the following: "There is no person happy who is in public office, or a candidate for office."

A more extensive field of usefulness now opened up to the Old Ranger as he took his seat in Congress. He had many projects in mind for the benefit of the people—one, the reduction of the price of the public lands to actual settlers; another, the improvement of our Western rivers. But like many other members both before and since his day, he found that "these things were easier to talk about on the stump than to do." He candidly admits: "This body was much greater than I had supposed, and I could effect much less than I had contemplated."

He informs us that he felt like a country boy just from home the first time, as he entered the hall of the law-makers of the great Republic. The city of Washington, grand and imposing, impressed him deeply, but was as the dust in the balance to "the assemblage of great men at the seat of Government of the United States, and at the opening of Congress, when a grand and really imposing spectacle was presented."

His profound admiration for some of his associates upon the broader theatre of the public service found vent in the following eloquent words:

"When the Roman Empire reached the highest pinnacle of literary fame and political power in the reign of Augustus Caesar, the period was called the Augustan age. There was a period that existed eminently in the Jackson administration and a few years after that might be called the Augustan age of Congress. So extraordinary a constellation of great and distinguished individuals may never again appear in office at the seat of government."

If apology were needed for the new members' exalted opinion of his associates, it can readily be found in the fact that among them in the House were John Quincy Adams, John Bell, Thomas F. Marshall, Ben Hardin, James K. Polk, Millard Fillmore, and Franklin Pierce. The first named had been President of the United States, and the last three were yet to hold that great office. At the same time "the constellation of great stars" that almost appalled the Illinois member upon his introduction included, in the Senate, Crittenden, Wright, Cass, Woodbury, Preston, Buchanan, Grundy, Benton, Clay, Calhoun, and Webster.

On finally taking leave of Congress, our member congratulates himself that during seven years of service he was absent from his seat but a single day. That all his humble endeavors were in the interest of the people, of course, goes without saying. He deprecates in strong terms the extravagance of some members of Congress in allowing their expenses to exceed their salaries, and then leaving the capital in debt. That he did nothing of the kind, but practised economy in all his expenses, it is hardly necessary to state. He is not, however, entitled to a patent for the discovery that "the expenses for living at the seat of Government of the United States are heavy."

Being a widower, conditions were now favorable for a little romance to be mingled with the dull cares of state. Near the close of his last term, he says: "I became acquainted with a lady in the District of Columbia, and we, in consideration of mutual love and affection, married. The same tie binds us in matrimonial happiness to the present time." He here admits a fact that might at this later day subject him to Executive displeasure: "Posterity will have an unsettled account against us for having added nothing to the great reservoir of the human family."

It may be of interest to know that while in Congress our member humbly accepted the appointment tendered him by Governor Carlin as Commissioner to negotiate the Illinois and Michigan Canal bonds. His earnest desire to have some one else appointed availed nothing, and in the interest of the great enterprise, upon the success of which the future of the State seemed to hang, he spent the summer of 1839 in Europe. While his mission abroad was fruitless as to its immediate object, it is gratifying to know that our commissioner returned duly impressed with "the immense superiority in every possible manner of our own country, and all its glorious institutions, over those of the monarchies of the old world."

It would be idle to suppose that the retirement of the Old Ranger from Congress was to terminate his career of usefulness to the people. On the contrary, he says: "In 1846, I was elected a member from St. Clair County to the General Assembly of the State. The main object of myself and friends was to obtain a charter for a macadamized road from Belleville to the Mississippi River, opposite St. Louis."

This all satisfactorily accomplished, and the Legislature adjourned, "I turned my time and attention to the calm and quiet of life. With my choice library of one thousand volumes I indulged in the study of science and literature. I soon discovered that the bustle and turmoil of political life did not produce happiness."

Sad to relate, this faithful public servant, worn with the cares of state, was not even yet permitted to lay aside his armor. The happiness of private life, for which his soul yearned as the hart panteth for the water brooks, was again postponed for the hated bustle and turmoil of politics. In 1852, against his remonstrances, he was again elected to the Legislature, and upon the organization of the House unanimously chosen Speaker.

Reluctantly indeed, we now take leave of John Reynolds—the quaintest of all the odd characters this country of ours has known. In doing so, it is indeed a comfort to know that, true as the needle to the pole, his great heart continued to beat in unison with that of the people. Ascending the Speaker's stand, and lifting the gavel, with deep emotion he said—and these are to us his last words: "I have nothing to labor for but the public good. My life has been devoted to promote the public interest of Illinois, and in my latter days it will afford me profound pleasure to advance now, as I have always done in the past, the best interests of the people."