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diff --git a/26240-h/26240-h.htm b/26240-h/26240-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7243625 --- /dev/null +++ b/26240-h/26240-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11899 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Clansman, by Thomas Dixon. +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.1em} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + div.la p {text-align: left; margin: auto 0;} + .caption {font-size:.8em} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + hr.tb {width: 35%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + .blockquot {margin-left:5%; margin-right:5%;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + div.ra p {text-align: right; margin: auto 0;} + hr.silver {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.3em} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Clansman, by Thomas Dixon + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Clansman + An Historical Romance of the Ku Klux Klan + +Author: Thomas Dixon + +Release Date: August 9, 2008 [EBook #26240] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CLANSMAN *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.6em;'>THE CLANSMAN</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Illustrations Shown in +This Edition Are Reproductions +of Scenes from the +Photo-Play of “The +Birth of a Nation” +Produced and Copyrighted +by The Epoch Producing +Corporation, to Whom the +Publishers Desire to Express +Their Thanks and +Appreciation for Permission +to Use the Pictures.</span></p> +</div> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 390px; height: 577px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 390px;'> +THE REIGN OF THE KLAN<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:2em; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0.5em;'>THE CLANSMAN</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.3em;'>AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.3em; margin-bottom:2em;'>OF THE KU KLUX KLAN</p> +<p style=' font-size:1em;'>BY</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>THOMAS DIXON</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>AUTHOR OF</p> +<p style=' font-size:1em; margin-bottom:2em;'>THE LEOPARD’S SPOTS, COMRADES, ETC.</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES FROM THE PHOTO-PLAY</p> +<p style=' font-size:1em;'>THE BIRTH OF A NATION</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>PRODUCED AND COPYRIGHTED BY</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:2em;'>EPOCH PRODUCING CORPORATION</p> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-emb.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 72px; height: 73px;' /><br /> +</div> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> +<p>PUBLISHERS :: NEW YORK</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-top:2em;'>Copyright, 1905</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:3em;'>By <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Thomas Dixon, Jr</span>.</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:2em;'>THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y.</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce' style=' font-size:0.8em;'> +<p>TO THE MEMORY OF</p> +<p>A SCOTCH-IRISH LEADER OF THE SOUTH</p> +<p style=' font-size:1em;'>My Uncle, Colonel Leroy McAfee</p> +<p>GRAND TITAN OF THE INVISIBLE EMPIRE</p> +<p>KU KLUX KLAN</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>TO THE READER</p> +</div> + +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Clansman</span>” is the second book of a series of +historical novels planned on the Race Conflict. “The +Leopard’s Spots” was the statement in historical outline +of the conditions from the enfranchisement of the negro +to his disfranchisement.</p> +<p>“The Clansman” develops the true story of the “Ku +Klux Klan Conspiracy,” which overturned the Reconstruction +régime.</p> +<p>The organization was governed by the Grand Wizard +Commander-in-Chief, who lived at Memphis, Tennessee. +The Grand Dragon commanded a State, the Grand +Titan a Congressional District, the Grand Giant a +County, and the Grand Cyclops a Township Den. The +twelve volumes of Government reports on the famous +Klan refer chiefly to events which occurred after 1870, +the date of its dissolution.</p> +<p>The chaos of blind passion that followed Lincoln’s +assassination is inconceivable to-day. The revolution +it produced in our Government, and the bold attempt +of Thaddeus Stevens to Africanize ten great States +of the American Union, read now like tales from “The +Arabian Nights.”</p> +<p>I have sought to preserve in this romance both the +letter and the spirit of this remarkable period. The +men who enact the drama of fierce revenge into which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_375' name='page_375'></a>375</span> +I have woven a double love story are historical figures. +I have merely changed their names without taking a +liberty with any essential historic fact.</p> +<p>In the darkest hour of the life of the South, when her +wounded people lay helpless amid rags and ashes under +the beak and talon of the Vulture, suddenly from the +mists of the mountains appeared a white cloud the size +of a man’s hand. It grew until its mantle of mystery +enfolded the stricken earth and sky. An “Invisible +Empire” had risen from the field of Death and challenged +the Visible to mortal combat.</p> +<p>How the young South, led by the reincarnated souls of +the Clansmen of Old Scotland, went forth under this +cover and against overwhelming odds, daring exile, imprisonment, +and a felon’s death, and saved the life of a +people, forms one of the most dramatic chapters in the +history of the Aryan race.</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p style=' margin-right:2em;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Thomas Dixon</span>, Jr.</p> +</div> + +<div class='la'> +<p style=' margin-left:2em;'><i>Dixondale, Va.</i></p> +<p style=' margin-left:4em;'><i>December 14, 1904.</i></p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>CONTENTS</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='500' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr><td colspan='3' align='center'><i>BOOK I</i></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' align='center'>THE ASSASSINATION</td></tr> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Bruised Reed </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_THE_BRUISED_REED'>3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Great Heart </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_THE_GREAT_HEART'>19</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Man of War </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_THE_MAN_OF_WAR'>33</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Clash of Giants </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_A_CLASH_OF_GIANTS'>38</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Battle of Love </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_THE_BATTLE_OF_LOVE'>56</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Assassination </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_THE_ASSASSINATION'>61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Frenzy of a Nation </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_THE_FRENZY_OF_A_NATION'>80</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' align='center'> </td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' align='center'><i>BOOK II</i></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' align='center'>THE REVOLUTION</td></tr> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The First Lady of the Land </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_THE_FIRST_LADY_OF_THE_LAND'>90</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Sweethearts </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_SWEETHEARTS'>101</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Joy of Living </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_THE_JOY_OF_LIVING'>112</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Hidden Treasure </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_HIDDEN_TREASURE'>115</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Across the Chasm </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_ACROSS_THE_CHASM'>120</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Gauge of Battle </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_THE_GAUGE_OF_BATTLE'>131</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Woman Laughs </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_A_WOMAN_LAUGHS'>136</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Dream </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_A_DREAM'>148</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The King Amuses Himself </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_THE_KING_AMUSES_HIMSELF'>152</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Tossed by the Storm </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_TOSSED_BY_THE_STORM'>162</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Supreme Test </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_THE_SUPREME_TEST'>165</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Triumph in Defeat </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_TRIUMPH_IN_DEFEAT'>179</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' align='center'> </td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' align='center'><i>BOOK III</i></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' align='center'>THE REIGN OF TERROR</td></tr> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Fallen Slaveholder’s Mansion </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_A_FALLEN_SLAVEHOLDER_S_MANSION'>187</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Eyes of the Jungle </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_THE_EYES_OF_THE_JUNGLE'>204</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Augustus Cćsar </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_AUGUSTUS_CSAR'>209</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>At the Point of the Bayonet </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_AT_THE_POINT_OF_THE_BAYONET'>218</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Forty Acres and a Mule </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_FORTY_ACRES_AND_A_MULE'>235</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Whisper in the Crowd </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_A_WHISPER_IN_THE_CROWD'>244</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>By the Light of a Torch </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_BY_THE_LIGHT_OF_A_TORCH'>254</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Riot in the Master’s Hall </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_THE_RIOT_IN_THE_MASTER_S_HALL'>263</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>At Lover’s Leap </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_AT_LOVER_S_LEAP'>276</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Night Hawk </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_A_NIGHT_HAWK'>284</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Beat of a Sparrow’s Wing </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_THE_BEAT_OF_A_SPARROW_S_WING'>297</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>At the Dawn of Day </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_AT_THE_DAWN_OF_DAY'>305</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' align='center'> </td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' align='center'><i>BOOK IV</i></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' align='center'>THE KU KLUX KLAN</td></tr> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Hunt for the Animal </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_THE_HUNT_FOR_THE_ANIMAL'>309</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Fiery Cross </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_THE_FIERY_CROSS'>318</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Parting of the Ways </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_THE_PARTING_OF_THE_WAYS'>327</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Banner of the Dragon </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_THE_BANNER_OF_THE_DRAGON'>337</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Reign of the Klan </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_THE_REIGN_OF_THE_KLAN'>341</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Counter Stroke </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_THE_COUNTER_STROKE'>351</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Snare of the Fowler </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_THE_SNARE_OF_THE_FOWLER'>358</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Ride for a Life </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_A_RIDE_FOR_A_LIFE'>362</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“Vengeance Is Mine” </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX__VENGEANCE_IS_MINE'>369</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>LEADING CHARACTERS OF THE STORY</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p><i>Scene:</i> Washington and the Foothills of the Carolinas.</p> +<p style='margin-bottom:2em;'><i>Time:</i> 1865 to 1870.</p> +</div> + +<table summary='characters'> +<tr><td>Ben Cameron</td><td align='right'>Grand Dragon of the Ku Klux Klan</td></tr> +<tr><td>Margaret</td><td align='right'>His Sister</td></tr> +<tr><td>Mrs. Cameron</td><td align='right'>His Mother</td></tr> +<tr><td>Dr. Richard Cameron</td><td align='right'>His Father</td></tr> +<tr><td>Hon. Austin Stoneman</td><td align='right'>Radical Leader of Congress</td></tr> +<tr><td>Phil</td><td align='right'>His Son</td></tr> +<tr><td>Elsie</td><td align='right'>His Daughter</td></tr> +<tr><td>Marion Lenoir</td><td align='right'>Ben's First Love</td></tr> +<tr><td>Mrs. Lenoir</td><td align='right'>Her Mother</td></tr> +<tr><td>Jake</td><td align='right'>A Faithful Man</td></tr> +<tr><td>Silas Lynch</td><td align='right'>A Negro Missionary</td></tr> +<tr><td>Uncle Aleck</td><td align='right'>The Member from Ulster</td></tr> +<tr><td>Cindy</td><td align='right'>His Wife</td></tr> +<tr><td>Colonel Howle</td><td align='right'>A Carpet-bagger</td></tr> +<tr><td>Augustus Cćsar</td><td align='right'>Of the Black Guard</td></tr> +<tr><td>Charles Sumner</td><td align='right'>Of Massachusetts</td></tr> +<tr><td>Gen. Benjamin F. Butler </td><td align='right'>Of Fort Fisher</td></tr> +<tr><td>Andrew Johnson</td><td align='right'>The President</td></tr> +<tr><td>U. S. Grant</td><td align='right'>The Commanding General</td></tr> +<tr><td>Abraham Lincoln</td><td align='right'>The Friend of the South</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.6em;'>THE CLANSMAN </p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span></div> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>Book I—The Assassination</p> +</div> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_THE_BRUISED_REED' id='I_THE_BRUISED_REED'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Bruised Reed</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>The fair girl who was playing a banjo and singing +to the wounded soldiers suddenly stopped, and, +turning to the surgeon, whispered:</p> +<p>“What’s that?”</p> +<p>“It sounds like a mob——”</p> +<p>With a common impulse they moved to the open window +of the hospital and listened.</p> +<p>On the soft spring air came the roar of excited thousands +sweeping down the avenue from the Capitol toward +the White House. Above all rang the cries of struggling +newsboys screaming an “Extra.” One of them darted +around the corner, his shrill voice quivering with excitement:</p> +<p>“<i>Extra! Extra! Peace! Victory!</i>”</p> +<p>Windows were suddenly raised, women thrust their +heads out, and others rushed into the street and crowded +around the boy, struggling to get his papers. He threw +them right and left and snatched the money—no one +asked for change. Without ceasing rose his cry: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span></p> +<p>“<i>Extra! Peace! Victory! Lee has surrendered!</i>”</p> +<p>At last the end had come.</p> +<p>The great North, with its millions of sturdy people +and their exhaustless resources, had greeted the first +shot on Sumter with contempt and incredulity. A few +regiments went forward for a month’s outing to settle +the trouble. The Thirteenth Brooklyn marched gayly +Southward on a thirty days’ jaunt, with pieces of rope +conspicuously tied to their muskets with which to +bring back each man a Southern prisoner to be led in +a noose through the streets on their early triumphant +return! It would be unkind to tell what became of +those ropes when they suddenly started back home +ahead of the scheduled time from the first battle of +Bull Run.</p> +<p>People from the South, equally wise, marched gayly +North, to whip five Yankees each before breakfast, and +encountered unforeseen difficulties.</p> +<p>Both sides had things to learn, and learned them in a +school whose logic is final—a four years’ course in the +University of Hell—the scream of eagles, the howl of +wolves, the bay of tigers, the roar of lions—all locked +in Death’s embrace, and each mad scene lit by the +glare of volcanoes of savage passions!</p> +<p>But the long agony was over.</p> +<p>The city bells began to ring. The guns of the forts +joined the chorus, and their deep steel throats roared +until the earth trembled.</p> +<p>Just across the street a mother who was reading the +fateful news turned and suddenly clasped a boy to her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span> +heart, crying for joy. The last draft of half a million had +called for him.</p> +<p>The Capital of the Nation was shaking off the long +nightmare of horror and suspense. More than once the +city had shivered at the mercy of those daring men in +gray, and the reveille of their drums had startled even the +President at his desk.</p> +<p>Again and again had the destiny of the Republic hung +on the turning of a hair, and in every crisis, Luck, Fate, +God, had tipped the scale for the Union.</p> +<p>A procession of more than five hundred Confederate +deserters, who had crossed the lines in groups, swung into +view, marching past the hospital, indifferent to the +tumult. Only a nominal guard flanked them as they +shuffled along, tired, ragged, and dirty. The gray in +their uniforms was now the colour of clay. Some had on +blue pantaloons, some, blue vests, others blue coats +captured on the field of blood. Some had pieces of +carpet, and others old bags around their shoulders. +They had been passing thus for weeks. Nobody paid any +attention to them.</p> +<p>“One of the secrets of the surrender!” exclaimed Doctor +Barnes. “Mr. Lincoln has been at the front for the +past weeks with offers of peace and mercy, if they would +lay down their arms. The great soul of the President, +even the genius of Lee could not resist. His smile began +to melt those gray ranks as the sun is warming the earth +to-day.”</p> +<p>“You are a great admirer of the President,” said the +girl, with a curious smile. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span></p> +<p>“Yes, Miss Elsie, and so are all who know him.”</p> +<p>She turned from the window without reply. A shadow +crossed her face as she looked past the long rows of cots, +on which rested the men in blue, until her eyes found one +on which lay, alone among his enemies, a young Confederate +officer.</p> +<p>The surgeon turned with her toward the man.</p> +<p>“Will he live?” she asked.</p> +<p>“Yes, only to be hung.”</p> +<p>“For what?” she cried.</p> +<p>“Sentenced by court-martial as a guerilla. It’s a lie, +but there’s some powerful hand back of it—some mysterious +influence in high authority. The boy wasn’t fully +conscious at the trial.”</p> +<p>“We must appeal to Mr. Stanton.”</p> +<p>“As well appeal to the devil. They say the order +came from his office.”</p> +<p>“A boy of nineteen!” she exclaimed. “It’s a shame. +I’m looking for his mother. You told me to telegraph to +Richmond for her.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I’ll never forget his cries that night, so utterly +pitiful and childlike. I’ve heard many a cry of pain, but +in all my life nothing so heartbreaking as that boy in +fevered delirium talking to his mother. His voice is one +of peculiar tenderness, penetrating and musical. It goes +quivering into your soul, and compels you to listen until +you swear it’s your brother or sweetheart or sister or +mother calling you. You should have seen him the +day he fell. God of mercies, the pity and the glory +of it!”</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-006.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 532px; height: 390px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 532px;'> +“YOUR BROTHER SPRANG FORWARD AND CAUGHT HIM IN HIS ARMS.”<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span></div> +<p>“Phil wrote me that he was a hero and asked me to +look after him. Were you there?”</p> +<p>“Yes, with the battery your brother was supporting. +He was the colonel of a shattered rebel regiment lying +just in front of us before Petersburg. Richmond was +doomed, resistance was madness, but there they were, +ragged and half starved, a handful of men, not more than +four hundred, but their bayonets gleamed and flashed in +the sunlight. In the face of a murderous fire he charged +and actually drove our men out of an entrenchment. We +concentrated our guns on him as he crouched behind this +earthwork. Our own men lay outside in scores, dead, +dying, and wounded. When the fire slacked, we could +hear their cries for water.</p> +<p>“Suddenly this boy sprang on the breastwork. He +was dressed in a new gray colonel’s uniform that mother +of his, in the pride of her soul, had sent him.</p> +<p>“He was a handsome figure—tall, slender, straight, a +gorgeous yellow sash tasselled with gold around his +waist, his sword flashing in the sun, his slouch hat cocked +on one side and an eagle’s feather in it.</p> +<p>“We thought he was going to lead another charge, but +just as the battery was making ready to fire he deliberately +walked down the embankment in a hail of musketry +and began to give water to our wounded men.</p> +<p>“Every gun ceased firing, and we watched him. He +walked back to the trench, his naked sword flashed +suddenly above that eagle’s feather, and his grizzled +ragamuffins sprang forward and charged us like so many +demons. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span></p> +<p>“There were not more than three hundred of them now, +but on they came, giving that hellish rebel yell at every +jump—the cry of the hunter from the hilltop at the sight +of his game! All Southern men are hunters, and that +cry was transformed in war into something unearthly +when it came from a hundred throats in chorus and the +game was human.</p> +<p>“Of course, it was madness. We blew them down +that hill like chaff before a hurricane. When the last man +had staggered back or fallen, on came this boy alone, +carrying the colours he had snatched from a falling +soldier, as if he were leading a million men to victory.</p> +<p>“A bullet had blown his hat from his head, and we +could see the blood streaming down the side of his face. +He charged straight into the jaws of one of our guns. +And then, with a smile on his lips and a dare to death in +his big brown eyes, he rammed that flag into the cannon’s +mouth, reeled, and fell! A cheer broke from our men.</p> +<p>“Your brother sprang forward and caught him in his +arms, and as we bent over the unconscious form, he exclaimed: +‘My God, doctor, look at him! He is so much +like me I feel as if I had been shot myself!’ They were +as much alike as twins—only his hair was darker. I +tell you, Miss Elsie, it’s a sin to kill men like that. One +such man is worth more to this nation than every negro +that ever set his flat foot on this continent!”</p> +<p>The girl’s eyes had grown dim as she listened to the +story.</p> +<p>“I will appeal to the President,” she said firmly.</p> +<p>“It’s the only chance. And just now he is under +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +tremendous pressure. His friendly order to the Virginia +Legislature to return to Richmond, Stanton forced him +to cancel. A master hand has organized a conspiracy in +Congress to crush the President. They curse his policy +of mercy as imbecility, and swear to make the South a +second Poland. Their watchwords are vengeance and +confiscation. Four fifths of his party in Congress are +in this plot. The President has less than a dozen real +friends in either House on whom he can depend. They +say that Stanton is to be given a free hand, and that the +gallows will be busy. This cancelled order of the President +looks like it.”</p> +<p>“I’ll try my hand with Mr. Stanton,” she said with +slow emphasis.</p> +<p>“Good luck, Little Sister—let me know if I can help,” +the surgeon answered cheerily as he passed on his round +of work.</p> +<p>Elsie Stoneman took her seat beside the cot of the +wounded Confederate and began softly to sing and play.</p> +<p>A little farther along the same row a soldier was dying, +a faint choking just audible in his throat. An attendant +sat beside him and would not leave till the last. The +ordinary chat and hum of the ward went on indifferent +to peace, victory, life, or death. Before the finality of +the hospital all other events of earth fade. Some were +playing cards or checkers, some laughing and joking, and +others reading.</p> +<p>At the first soft note from the singer the games ceased, +and the reader put down his book.</p> +<p>The banjo had come to Washington with the negroes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +following the wake of the army. She had laid aside her +guitar and learned to play all the stirring camp songs of +the South. Her voice was low, soothing, and tender. It +held every silent listener in a spell.</p> +<p>As she played and sang the songs the wounded man +loved, her eyes lingered in pity on his sun-bronzed face, +pinched and drawn with fever. He was sleeping the +stupid sleep that gives no rest. She could count the +irregular pounding of his heart in the throb of the big +vein on his neck. His lips were dry and burnt, and the +little boyish moustache curled upward from the row of +white teeth as if scorched by the fiery breath.</p> +<p>He began to talk in flighty sentences, and she listened—his +mother—his sister—and yes, she was sure as she bent +nearer—a little sweetheart who lived next door. They +all had sweethearts—these Southern boys. Again he +was teasing his dog—and then back in battle.</p> +<p>At length he opened his eyes, great dark-brown eyes, +unnaturally bright, with a strange yearning look in their +depths as they rested on Elsie. He tried to smile and +feebly said:</p> +<p>“Here’s—a—fly—on—my—left—ear—my—guns—can’t—somehow— +reach—him—won’t—you—”</p> +<p>She sprang forward and brushed the fly away.</p> +<p>Again he opened his eyes.</p> +<p>“Excuse—me—for—asking—but am I alive?”</p> +<p>“Yes, indeed,” was the cheerful answer.</p> +<p>“Well, now, then, is this me, or is it not me, or has a +cannon shot me, or has the devil got me?”</p> +<p>“It’s you. The cannon didn’t shoot you, but three +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +muskets did. The devil hasn’t got you yet, but he will +unless you’re good.”</p> +<p>“I’ll be good if you won’t leave me——”</p> +<p>Elsie turned her head away smiling, and he went on +slowly:</p> +<p>“But I’m dead, I know. I’m sleeping on a cot with a +canopy over it. I ain’t hungry any more, and an angel +has been hovering over me playing on a harp of gold——”</p> +<p>“Only a little Yankee girl playing the banjo.”</p> +<p>“Can’t fool me—I’m in heaven.”</p> +<p>“You’re in the hospital.”</p> +<p>“Funny hospital—look at that harp and that big +trumpet hanging close by it—that’s Gabriel’s trumpet——”</p> +<p>“No,” she laughed. “This is the Patent Office building, +that covers two blocks, now a temporary hospital. There +are seventy thousand wounded soldiers in town, and more +coming on every train. The thirty-five hospitals are +overcrowded.”</p> +<p>He closed his eyes a moment in silence, and then spoke +with a feeble tremor:</p> +<p>“I’m afraid you don’t know who I am—I can’t impose +on you—I’m a rebel——”</p> +<p>“Yes, I know. You are Colonel Ben Cameron. It +makes no difference to me now which side you fought on.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’m in heaven—been dead a long time. I can +prove it, if you’ll play again.”</p> +<p>“What shall I play?”</p> +<p>“First, ‘<i>O Jonny Booker Help dis Nigger</i>.’”</p> +<p>She played and sang it beautifully. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span></p> +<p>“Now, ‘<i>Wake Up in the Morning</i>.’”</p> +<p>Again he listened with wide, staring eyes that saw +nothing except visions within.</p> +<p>“Now, then, ‘<i>The Ole Gray Hoss</i>.’”</p> +<p>As the last notes died away he tried to smile again:</p> +<p>“One more—‘<i>Hard Times an’ Wuss er Comin‘</i>.’”</p> +<p>With deft, sure touch and soft negro dialect she sang it +through.</p> +<p>“Now, didn’t I tell you that you couldn’t fool me? No +Yankee girl could play and sing these songs, I’m in +heaven, and you’re an angel.”</p> +<p>“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself to flirt with me, with +one foot in the grave?”</p> +<p>“That’s the time to get on good terms with the angels—but +I’m done dead——”</p> +<p>Elsie laughed in spite of herself.</p> +<p>“I know it,” he went on, “because you have shining +golden hair and amber eyes instead of blue ones. I never +saw a girl in my life before with such eyes and hair.”</p> +<p>“But you’re young yet.”</p> +<p>“Never—was—such—a—girl—on—earth—you’re—an——”</p> +<p>She lifted her finger in warning, and his eyelids drooped +In exhausted stupor.</p> +<p>“You musn’t talk any more,” she whispered, shaking +her head.</p> +<p>A commotion at the door caused Elsie to turn from the +cot. A sweet motherly woman of fifty, in an old faded +black dress, was pleading with the guard to be allowed +to pass. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></p> +<p>“Can’t do it, m’um. It’s agin the rules.”</p> +<p>“But I must go in. I’ve tramped for four days through +a wilderness of hospitals, and I know he must be here.”</p> +<p>“Special orders, m’um—wounded rebels in here that +belong in prison.”</p> +<p>“Very well, young man,” said the pleading voice. +“My baby boy’s in this place, wounded and about to die. +I’m going in there. You can shoot me if you like, or you +can turn your head the other way.”</p> +<p>She stepped quickly past the soldier, who merely stared +with dim eyes out the door and saw nothing.</p> +<p>She stood for a moment with a look of helpless bewilderment. +The vast area of the second story of the great +monolithic pile was crowded with rows of sick, wounded, +and dying men—a strange, solemn, and curious sight. +Against the walls were ponderous glass cases, filled +with models of every kind of invention the genius of man +had dreamed. Between these cases were deep lateral +openings, eight feet wide, crowded with the sick, and long +rows of them were stretched through the centre of the +hall. A gallery ran around above the cases, and this was +filled with cots. The clatter of the feet of passing surgeons +and nurses over the marble floor added to the weird +impression.</p> +<p>Elsie saw the look of helpless appeal in the mother’s +face and hurried forward to meet her:</p> +<p>“Is this Mrs. Cameron, of South Carolina?”</p> +<p>The trembling figure in black grasped her hand eagerly:</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, my dear, and I’m looking for my boy, who +is wounded unto death. Can you help me?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span></p> +<p>“I thought I recognized you from a miniature I’ve seen,” +she answered softly. “I’ll lead you direct to his cot.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, thank you!” came the low reply.</p> +<p>In a moment she was beside him, and Elsie walked +away to the open window through which came the chirp +of sparrows from the lilac bushes in full bloom below.</p> +<p>The mother threw one look of infinite tenderness +on the drawn face, and her hands suddenly clasped in +prayer:</p> +<p>“I thank Thee, Lord Jesus, for this hour! Thou hast +heard the cry of my soul and led my feet!” She gently +knelt, kissed the hot lips, smoothed the dark tangled hair +back from his forehead, and her hand rested over his eyes.</p> +<p>A faint flush tinged his face.</p> +<p>“It’s you, Mamma—I—know—you—that’s—your—hand—or—else—it’s—God’s!”</p> +<p>She slipped her arms about him.</p> +<p>“My hero, my darling, my baby!”</p> +<p>“I’ll get well now, Mamma, never fear. You see, I had +whipped them that day as I had many a time before. I +don’t know how it happened—my men seemed all to go +down at once. You know—I couldn’t surrender in +that new uniform of a colonel you sent me—we made a +gallant fight, and—now—I’m—just—a—little—tired—but +you are here, and it’s all right.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, dear. It’s all over now. General Lee has +surrendered, and when you are better I’ll take you home, +where the sunshine and flowers will give you strength +again.”</p> +<p>“How’s my little sis?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span></p> +<p>“Hunting in another part of the city for you. She’s +grown so tall and stately you’ll hardly know her. Your +papa is at home, and don’t know yet that you are +wounded.”</p> +<p>“And my sweetheart, Marion Lenoir?”</p> +<p>“The most beautiful little girl in Piedmont—as sweet +and mischievous as ever. Mr. Lenoir is very ill, but +he has written a glorious poem about one of your charges. +I’ll show it to you to-morrow. He is our greatest poet. +The South worships him. Marion sent her love to you +and a kiss for the young hero of Piedmont. I’ll give it +to you now.”</p> +<p>She bent again and kissed him.</p> +<p>“And my dogs?”</p> +<p>“General Sherman left them, at least.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’m glad of that—my mare all right?”</p> +<p>“Yes, but we had a time to save her—Jake hid her in +the woods till the army passed.”</p> +<p>“Bully for Jake.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know what we should have done without him.”</p> +<p>“Old Aleck still at home and getting drunk as usual?”</p> +<p>“No, he ran away with the army and persuaded every +negro on the Lenoir place to go, except his wife, Aunt +Cindy.”</p> +<p>“The old rascal, when Mrs. Lenoir’s mother saved him +from burning to death when he was a boy!”</p> +<p>“Yes, and he told the Yankees those fire scars were +made with the lash, and led a squad to the house one +night to burn the barns. Jake headed them off and told +on him. The soldiers were so mad they strung him up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +and thrashed him nearly to death. We haven’t seen him +since.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll take care of you, Mamma, when I get home. +Of course I’ll get well. It’s absurd to die at nineteen. +You know I never believed the bullet had been moulded +that could hit me. In three years of battle I lived a +charmed life and never got a scratch.”</p> +<p>His voice had grown feeble and laboured, and his face +flushed. His mother placed her hand on his lips.</p> +<p>“Just one more,” he pleaded feebly. “Did you see the +little angel who has been playing and singing for me? +You must thank her.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I see her coming now. I must go and tell +Margaret, and we will get a pass and come every day.”</p> +<p>She kissed him, and went to meet Elsie.</p> +<p>“And you are the dear girl who has been playing and +singing for my boy, a wounded stranger here alone among +his foes?”</p> +<p>“Yes, and for all the others, too.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Cameron seized both of her hands and looked at +her tenderly.</p> +<p>“You will let me kiss you? I shall always love you.”</p> +<p>She pressed Elsie to her heart. In spite of the girl’s +reserve, a sob caught her breath at the touch of the warm +lips. Her own mother had died when she was a baby, +and a shy, hungry heart, long hidden from the world, +leaped in tenderness and pain to meet that embrace.</p> +<p>Elsie walked with her to the door, wondering how the +terrible truth of her boy’s doom could be told.</p> +<p>She tried to speak, looked into Mrs. Cameron’s face, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +radiant with grateful joy, and the words froze on her lips. +She decided to walk a little way with her. But the task +became all the harder.</p> +<p>At the corner she stopped abruptly and bade her good-bye:</p> +<p>“I must leave you now, Mrs. Cameron. I will call for +you in the morning and help you secure the passes to +enter the hospital.”</p> +<p>The mother stroked the girl’s hand and held it lingeringly.</p> +<p>“How good you are,” she said softly. “And you +have not told me your name?”</p> +<p>Elsie hesitated and said:</p> +<p>“That’s a little secret. They call me Sister Elsie, the +Banjo Maid, in the hospitals. My father is a man of +distinction. I should be annoyed if my full name were +known. I’m Elsie Stoneman. My father is the leader +of the House. I live with my aunt.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” she whispered, pressing her hand.</p> +<p>Elsie watched the dark figure disappear in the crowd +with a strange tumult of feeling.</p> +<p>The mention of her father had revived the suspicion +that he was the mysterious power threatening the policy +of the President and planning a reign of terror for the +South. Next to the President, he was the most powerful +man in Washington, and the unrelenting foe of Mr. +Lincoln, although the leader of his party in Congress, +which he ruled with a rod of iron. He was a man of +fierce and terrible resentments. And yet, in his personal +life, to those he knew, he was generous and considerate. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +“Old Austin Stoneman, the Great Commoner,” he was +called, and his name was one to conjure with in the world +of deeds. To this fair girl he was the noblest Roman of +them all, her ideal of greatness. He was an indulgent +father, and while not demonstrative, loved his children +with passionate devotion.</p> +<p>She paused and looked up at the huge marble columns +that seemed each a sentinel beckoning her to return +within to the cot that held a wounded foe. The twilight +had deepened, and the soft light of the rising moon had +clothed the solemn majesty of the building with shimmering +tenderness and beauty.</p> +<p>“Why should I be distressed for one, an enemy, among +these thousands who have fallen?” she asked herself. +Every detail of the scene she had passed through with +him and his mother stood out in her soul with startling +distinctness—and the horror of his doom cut with the +deep sense of personal anguish.</p> +<p>“He shall not die,” she said, with sudden resolution. +“I’ll take his mother to the President. He can’t resist +her. I’ll send for Phil to help me.”</p> +<p>She hurried to the telegraph office and summoned her +brother.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_THE_GREAT_HEART' id='II_THE_GREAT_HEART'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Great Heart</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>The next morning, when Elsie reached the +obscure boarding-house at which Mrs. Cameron +stopped, the mother had gone to the market to +buy a bunch of roses to place beside her boy’s cot.</p> +<p>As Elsie awaited her return, the practical little Yankee +maid thought with a pang of the tenderness and folly of +such people. She knew this mother had scarcely enough +to eat, but to her bread was of small importance, flowers +necessary to life. After all, it was very sweet, this foolishness +of these Southern people, and it somehow made her +homesick.</p> +<p>“How can I tell her!” she sighed. “And yet I +must.”</p> +<p>She had only waited a moment when Mrs. Cameron +suddenly entered with her daughter. She threw her +flowers on the table, sprang forward to meet Elsie, seized +her hands and called to Margaret.</p> +<p>“How good of you to come so soon! This, Margaret, +is our dear little friend who has been so good to Ben and +to me.”</p> +<p>Margaret took Elsie’s hand and longed to throw her +arms around her neck, but something in the quiet dignity +of the Northern girl’s manner held her back. She only +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +smiled tenderly through her big dark eyes, and softly +said:</p> +<p>“We love you! Ben was my last brother. We were +playmates and chums. My heart broke when he ran +away to the front. How can we thank you and your +brother!”</p> +<p>“I’m sure we’ve done nothing more than you would +have done for us,” said Elsie, as Mrs. Cameron left the +room.</p> +<p>“Yes, I know, but we can never tell you how grateful +we are to you. We feel that you have saved Ben’s life +and ours. The war has been one long horror to us since +my first brother was killed. But now it’s over, and we +have Ben left, and our hearts have been crying for joy +all night.”</p> +<p>“I hoped my brother, Captain Phil Stoneman, would +be here to-day to meet you and help me, but he can’t +reach Washington before Friday.”</p> +<p>“He caught Ben in his arms!” cried Margaret. “I +know he’s brave, and you must be proud of him.”</p> +<p>“Doctor Barnes says they are as much alike as twins—only +Phil is not quite so tall and has blond hair like mine.”</p> +<p>“You will let me see him and thank him the moment +he comes?”</p> +<p>“Hurry, Margaret!” cheerily cried Mrs. Cameron, +reëntering the parlour. “Get ready; we must go at +once to the hospital.”</p> +<p>Margaret turned and with stately grace hurried from +the room. The old dress she wore as unconscious of its +shabbiness as though it were a royal robe. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span></p> +<p>“And now, my dear, what must I do to get the +passes?” asked the mother eagerly.</p> +<p>Elsie’s warm amber eyes grew misty for a moment, and +the fair skin with its gorgeous rose tints of the North +paled. She hesitated, tried to speak, and was silent.</p> +<p>The sensitive soul of the Southern woman read the +message of sorrow words had not framed.</p> +<p>“Tell me, quickly! The doctor—has—not—concealed—his—true—condition—from—me?”</p> +<p>“No, he is certain to recover.”</p> +<p>“What then?”</p> +<p>“Worse—he is condemned to death by court-martial.”</p> +<p>“Condemned to death—a—wounded—prisoner—of—war!” +she whispered slowly, with blanched face.</p> +<p>“Yes, he was accused of violating the rules of war as a +guerilla raider in the invasion of Pennsylvania.”</p> +<p>“Absurd and monstrous! He was on General Jeb +Stuart’s staff and could have acted only under his orders. +He joined the infantry after Stuart’s death, and rose to be +a colonel, though but a boy. There’s some terrible +mistake!”</p> +<p>“Unless we can obtain his pardon,” Elsie went on in +even, restrained tones, “there is no hope. We must +appeal to the President.”</p> +<p>The mother’s lips trembled, and she seemed about to +faint.</p> +<p>“Could I see the President?” she asked, recovering +herself with an effort.</p> +<p>“He has just reached Washington from the front, and is +thronged by thousands. It will be difficult.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span></p> +<p>The mother’s lips were moving in silent prayer, and her +eyes were tightly closed to keep back the tears.</p> +<p>“Can you help me, dear?” she asked piteously.</p> +<p>“Yes,” was the quick response.</p> +<p>“You see,” she went on, “I feel so helpless. I have +never been to the White House or seen the President, and +I don’t know how to go about seeing him or how to ask +him—and—I am afraid of Mr. Lincoln! I have heard so +many harsh things said of him.”</p> +<p>“I’ll do my best, Mrs. Cameron. We must go at once +to the White House and try to see him.”</p> +<p>The mother lifted the girl’s hand and stroked it gently.</p> +<p>“We will not tell Margaret. Poor child! she could +not endure this. When we return, we may have +better news. It can’t be worse. I’ll send her on an +errand.”</p> +<p>She took up the bouquet of gorgeous roses with a sigh, +buried her face in the fresh perfume, as if to gain strength +in their beauty and fragrance, and left the room.</p> +<p>In a few moments she had returned and was on her way +with Elsie to the White House.</p> +<p>It was a beautiful spring morning, this eleventh day of +April, 1865. The glorious sunshine, the shimmering +green of the grass, the warm breezes, and the shouts of +victory mocked the mother’s anguish.</p> +<p>At the White House gates they passed the blue sentry +pacing silently back and forth, who merely glanced at +them with keen eyes and said nothing. In the steady +beat of his feet the mother could hear the tramp of soldiers +leading her boy to the place of death! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span></p> +<p>A great lump rose in her throat as she caught the first +view of the Executive Mansion gleaming white and silent +and ghostlike among the budding trees. The tall columns +of the great facade, spotless as snow, the spray of +the fountain, the marble walls, pure, dazzling, and cold, +seemed to her the gateway to some great tomb in which +her own dead and the dead of all the people lay! To +her the fair white palace, basking there in the sunlight +and budding grass, shrub, and tree, was the Judgment +House of Fate. She thought of all the weary feet that +had climbed its fateful steps in hope to return in despair, +of its fierce dramas on which the lives of millions had +hung, and her heart grew sick.</p> +<p>A long line of people already stretched from the entrance +under the portico far out across the park, awaiting +their turn to see the President.</p> +<p>Mrs. Cameron placed her hand falteringly on Elsie’s +shoulder.</p> +<p>“Look, my dear, what a crowd already! Must we +wait in line?”</p> +<p>“No, I can get you past the throng with my father’s +name.”</p> +<p>“Will it be very difficult to reach the President?”</p> +<p>“No, it’s very easy. Guards and sentinels annoy +him. He frets until they are removed. An assassin or +maniac could kill him almost any hour of the day or +night. The doors are open at all hours, very late at +night. I have often walked up to the rooms of his +secretaries as late as nine o’clock without being challenged +by a soul.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span></p> +<p>“What must I call him? Must I say ‘Your Excellency?’”</p> +<p>“By no means—he hates titles and forms. You should +say ‘Mr. President’ in addressing him. But you will +please him best if, in your sweet, homelike way, you will +just call him by his name. You can rely on his sympathy. +Read this letter of his to a widow. I brought it to show +you.”</p> +<p>She handed Mrs. Cameron a newspaper clipping on +which was printed Mr. Lincoln’s letter to Mrs. Bixby, of +Boston, who had lost five sons in the war.</p> +<p>Over and over she read its sentences until they echoed +as solemn music in her soul:</p> +<p>“I feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine +which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so +overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering you the +consolation that may be found in the thanks of the republic +they died to save. I pray that our Heavenly Father may +assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only +the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn +pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon +the altar of freedom.</p> +<p>“Yours very sincerely and respectfully,</p> +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Abraham Lincoln.</span>”</p> +<p>“And the President paused amid a thousand cares to +write that letter to a broken-hearted woman?” the mother +asked.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Then he is good down to the last secret depths of a +great heart! Only a Christian father could have written +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +that letter. I shall not be afraid to speak to him. And +they told me he was an infidel!”</p> +<p>Elsie led her by a private way past the crowd and +into the office of Major Hay, the President’s private +secretary. A word from the Great Commoner’s daughter +admitted them at once to the President’s room.</p> +<p>“Just take a seat on one side, Miss Elsie,” said Major +Hay; “watch your first opportunity and introduce your +friend.”</p> +<p>On entering the room, Mrs. Cameron could not see the +President, who was seated at his desk surrounded by three +men in deep consultation over a mass of official documents.</p> +<p>She looked about the room nervously and felt reassured +by its plain aspect. It was a medium-sized, officelike +place, with no signs of elegance or ceremony. Mr. Lincoln +was seated in an armchair beside a high writing-desk and +table combined. She noticed that his feet were large and +that they rested on a piece of simple straw matting. +Around the room were sofas and chairs covered with +green worsted.</p> +<p>When the group about the chair parted a moment, she +caught the first glimpse of the man who held her life in +the hollow of his hand. She studied him with breathless +interest. His back was still turned. Even while seated, +she saw that he was a man of enormous stature, fully six +feet four inches tall, legs and arms abnormally long, and +huge broad shoulders slightly stooped. His head was +powerful and crowned with a mass of heavy brown hair, +tinged with silver.</p> +<p>He turned his head slightly and she saw his profile set +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +in its short dark beard—the broad intellectual brow, half +covered by unmanageable hair, his face marked with +deep-cut lines of life and death, with great hollows in the +cheeks and under the eyes. In the lines which marked +the corners of his mouth she could see firmness, and his +beetling brows and unusually heavy eyelids looked stern +and formidable. Her heart sank. She looked again and +saw goodness, tenderness, sorrow, canny shrewdness, and +a strange lurking smile all haunting his mouth and eye.</p> +<p>Suddenly he threw himself forward in his chair, wheeled +and faced one of his tormentors with a curious and comical +expression. With one hand patting the other, and a +funny look overspreading his face, he said:</p> +<p>“My friend, let me tell you something——”</p> +<p>The man again stepped before him, and she could hear +nothing. When the story was finished, the man tried to +laugh. It died in a feeble effort. But the President +laughed heartily, laughed all over, and laughed his visitors +out of the room.</p> +<p>Mrs. Cameron turned toward Elsie with a mute look of +appeal to give her this moment of good-humour in which +to plead her cause, but before she could move a man of +military bearing suddenly stepped before the President.</p> +<p>He began to speak, but seeing the look of stern decision +in Mr. Lincoln’s face, turned abruptly and said:</p> +<p>“Mr. President, I see you are fully determined not to +do me justice!”</p> +<p>Mr. Lincoln slightly compressed his lips, rose quietly, +seized the intruder by the arm, and led him toward the +door. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span></p> +<p>“This is the third time you have forced your presence +on me, sir, asking that I reverse the just sentence of a +court-martial, dismissing you from the service. I told +you my decision was carefully made and was final. Now +I give you fair warning never to show yourself in this room +again. I can bear censure, but I will not endure insult!”</p> +<p>In whining tones the man begged for his papers he had +dropped.</p> +<p>“Begone, sir,” said the President, as he thrust him +through the door. “Your papers will be sent to you.”</p> +<p>The poor mother trembled at this startling act and +sank back limp in her seat.</p> +<p>With quick, swinging stride the President walked back +to his desk, accompanied by Major Hay and a young +German girl, whose simple dress told that she was from +the Western plains.</p> +<p>He handed the secretary an official paper.</p> +<p>“Give this pardon to the boy’s mother when she comes +this morning,” he said kindly to the secretary, his eyes +suddenly full of gentleness.</p> +<p>“How could I consent to shoot a boy raised on a farm, +in the habit of going to bed at dark, for falling asleep at his +post when required to watch all night? I’ll never go into +eternity with the blood of such a boy on my skirts.”</p> +<p>Again the mother’s heart rose.</p> +<p>“You remember the young man I pardoned for a +similar offence in ’62, about which Stanton made such a +fuss?” he went on in softly reminiscent tones. “Well, +here is that pardon.”</p> +<p>He drew from the lining of his silk hat a photograph, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +around which was wrapped an executive pardon. Through +the lower end of it was a bullet-hole stained with blood.</p> +<p>“I got this in Richmond. They found him dead on +the field. He fell in the front ranks with my photograph +in his pocket next to his heart, this pardon wrapped +around it, and on the back of it in his boy’s scrawl, ‘<i>God +bless Abraham Lincoln</i>.’ I love to invest in bonds like +that.”</p> +<p>The secretary returned to his room, the girl who was +waiting stepped forward, and the President rose to receive +her.</p> +<p>The mother’s quick eye noted, with surprise, the +simple dignity and chivalry of manner with which he received +this humble woman of the people.</p> +<p>With straightforward eloquence the girl poured out +her story, begging for the pardon of her young brother +who had been sentenced to death as a deserter. He +listened in silence.</p> +<p>How pathetic the deep melancholy of his sad face! +Yes, she was sure, the saddest face that God ever made in +all the world! Her own stricken heart for a moment +went out to him in sympathy.</p> +<p>The President took off his spectacles, wiped his forehead +with the large red silk handkerchief he carried, and +his eyes twinkled kindly down into the good German +face.</p> +<p>“You seem an honest, truthful, sweet girl,” he said, +“and”—he smiled—“you don’t wear hoop skirts! I may +be whipped for this, but I’ll trust you and your brother, +too. He shall be pardoned.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +Elsie rose to introduce Mrs. Cameron, when a Congressman +from Massachusetts suddenly stepped before her and +pressed for the pardon of a slave trader whose ship had +been confiscated. He had spent five years in prison, but +could not pay the heavy fine in money imposed.</p> +<p>The President had taken his seat again, and read the +eloquent appeal for mercy. He looked up over his spectacles, +fixed his eyes piercingly on the Congressman and +said:</p> +<p>“This is a moving appeal, sir, expressed with great +eloquence. I might pardon a murderer under the spell +of such words, but a man who can make a business of +going to Africa and robbing her of her helpless children +and selling them into bondage—no, sir—he may rot in +jail before he shall have liberty by any act of mine!”</p> +<p>Again the mother’s heart sank.</p> +<p>Her hour had come. She must put the issue of life +or death to the test, and as Elsie rose and stepped quickly +forward, she followed; nerving herself for the ordeal.</p> +<p>The President took Elsie’s hand familiarly and smiled +without rising. Evidently she was well known to him.</p> +<p>“Will you hear the prayer of a broken-hearted mother +of the South, who has lost four sons in General Lee’s +army?” she asked.</p> +<p>Looking quietly past the girl, he caught sight, for the +first time, of the faded dress and the sorrow-shadowed face.</p> +<p>He was on his feet in a moment, extended his hand and +led her to a chair.</p> +<p>“Take this seat, Madam, and then tell me in your own +way what I can do for you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +In simple words, mighty with the eloquence of a +mother’s heart, she told her story and asked for the pardon +of her boy, promising his word of honour and her own +that he would never again take up arms against the +Union.</p> +<p>“The war is over now, Mr. Lincoln,” she said, “and +we have lost all. Can you conceive the desolation of <i>my</i> +heart? My four boys were noble men. They may have +been wrong, but they fought for what they believed to be +right. You, too, have lost a boy.”</p> +<p>The President’s eyes grew dim.</p> +<p>“Yes, a beautiful boy——” he said simply.</p> +<p>“Well, mine are all gone but this baby. One of them +sleeps in an unmarked grave at Gettysburg. One died +in a Northern prison. One fell at Chancellorsville, one in +the Wilderness, and this, my baby, before Petersburg. +Perhaps I’ve loved him too much, this last one—he’s +only a child yet——”</p> +<p>“You shall have your boy, my dear Madam,” the +President said simply, seating himself and writing a brief +order to the Secretary of War.</p> +<p>The mother drew near his desk, softly crying. Through +her tears she said:</p> +<p>“My heart is heavy, Mr. Lincoln, when I think of all +the hard and bitter things we have heard of you.”</p> +<p>“Well, give my love to the people of South Carolina +when you go home, and tell them that I am their President, +and that I have never forgotten this fact in the +darkest hours of this awful war; and I am going to do +everything in my power to help them.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +“You will never regret this generous act,” the mother +cried with gratitude.</p> +<p>“I reckon not,” he answered. “I’ll tell you something, +Madam, if you won’t tell anybody. It’s a secret of my +administration. I’m only too glad of an excuse to save +a life when I can. Every drop of blood shed in this war +North and South has been as if it were wrung out of +my heart. A strange fate decreed that the bloodiest war +in human history should be fought under my direction. +And I—to whom the sight of blood is a sickening horror—I +have been compelled to look on in silent anguish because +I could not stop it! Now that the Union is saved, not +another drop of blood shall be spilled if I can prevent it.”</p> +<p>“May God bless you!” the mother cried, as she received +from him the order.</p> +<p>She held his hand an instant as she took her leave, +laughing and sobbing in her great joy.</p> +<p>“I must tell you, Mr. President,” she said, “how surprised +and how pleased I am to find you are a Southern +man.”</p> +<p>“Why, didn’t you know that my parents were Virginians, +and that I was born in Kentucky?”</p> +<p>“Very few people in the South know it. I am ashamed +to say I did not.”</p> +<p>“Then, how did you know I am a Southerner?”</p> +<p>“By your looks, your manner of speech, your easy, +kindly ways, your tenderness and humour, your firmness +in the right as you see it, and, above all, the way you rose +and bowed to a woman in an old, faded black dress, whom +you knew to be an enemy.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +“No, Madam, not an enemy now,” he said softly. +“That word is out of date.”</p> +<p>“If we had only known you in time——”</p> +<p>The President accompanied her to the door with a +deference of manner that showed he had been deeply +touched.</p> +<p>“Take this letter to Mr. Stanton at once,” he said. +“Some folks complain of my pardons, but it rests me +after a hard day’s work if I can save some poor boy’s +life. I go to bed happy, thinking of the joy I have given +to those who love him.”</p> +<p>As the last words were spoken, a peculiar dreaminess +of expression stole over his careworn face, as if a throng +of gracious memories had lifted for a moment the burden +of his life.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_THE_MAN_OF_WAR' id='III_THE_MAN_OF_WAR'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Man of War</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Elsie led Mrs. Cameron direct from the White +House to the War Department.</p> +<p>“Well, Mrs. Cameron, what did you think of +the President?” she asked.</p> +<p>“I hardly know,” was the thoughtful answer. “He is +the greatest man I ever met. One feels this instinctively.”</p> +<p>When Mrs. Cameron was ushered into the Secretary’s +Office, Mr. Stanton was seated at his desk writing.</p> +<p>She handed the order of the President to a clerk, who +gave it to the Secretary.</p> +<p>He was a man in the full prime of life, intellectual and +physical, low and heavy set, about five feet eight inches in +height and inclined to fat. His movements, however, +were quick, and as he swung in his chair the keenest +vigour marked every movement of body and every change +of his countenance.</p> +<p>His face was swarthy and covered with a long, dark +beard touched with gray. He turned a pair of little +black piercing eyes on her and without rising said:</p> +<p>“So you are the woman who has a wounded son under +sentence of death as a guerilla?”</p> +<p>“I am so unfortunate,” she answered.</p> +<p>“Well, I have nothing to say to you,” he went on in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +a louder and sterner tone, “and no time to waste on you. +If you have raised up men to rebel against the best +government under the sun, you can take the consequences——”</p> +<p>“But, my dear sir,” broke in the mother, “he is a mere +boy of nineteen, who ran away three years ago and +entered the service——”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to hear another word from you!” he +yelled in rage. “I have no time to waste—go at once. +I’ll do nothing for you.”</p> +<p>“But I bring you an order from the President,” protested +the mother.</p> +<p>“Yes, I know it,” he answered with a sneer, “and I’ll +do with it what I’ve done with many others—see that it is +not executed—now go.”</p> +<p>“But the President told me you would give me a pass +to the hospital, and that a full pardon would be issued to +my boy!”</p> +<p>“Yes, I see. But let me give you some information. +The President is a fool—a d—— fool! Now, will you +go?”</p> +<p>With a sinking sense of horror, Mrs. Cameron withdrew +and reported to Elsie the unexpected encounter.</p> +<p>“The brute!” cried the girl. “We’ll go back immediately +and report this insult to the President.”</p> +<p>“Why are such men intrusted with power?” the +mother sighed.</p> +<p>“It’s a mystery to me, I’m sure. They say he is the +greatest Secretary of War in our history. I don’t believe +it. Phil hates the sight of him, and so does every army +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +officer I know, from General Grant down. I hope Mr. +Lincoln will expel him from the Cabinet for this insult.”</p> +<p>When, they were again ushered into the President’s +office, Elsie hastened to inform him of the outrageous +reply the Secretary of War had made to his order.</p> +<p>“Did Stanton say that I was a fool?” he asked, with a +quizzical look out of his kindly eyes.</p> +<p>“Yes, he did,” snapped Elsie. “And he repeated it +with a blankety prefix.”</p> +<p>The President looked good-humouredly out of the +window toward the War Office and musingly said:</p> +<p>“Well, if Stanton says that I am a blankety fool, it +must be so, for I have found out that he is nearly always +right, and generally means what he says. I’ll just step +over and see Stanton.”</p> +<p>As he spoke the last sentence, the humour slowly faded +from his face, and the anxious mother saw back of those +patient gray eyes the sudden gleam of the courage and +conscious power of a lion.</p> +<p>He dismissed them with instructions to return the next +day for his final orders and walked over to the War +Department alone.</p> +<p>The Secretary of War was in one of his ugliest moods, +and made no effort to conceal it when asked his reasons +for the refusal to execute the order.</p> +<p>“The grounds for my action are very simple,” he said +with bitter emphasis. “The execution of this traitor is +part of a carefully considered policy of justice on which +the future security of the Nation depends. If I am to +administer this office, I will not be hamstrung by constant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +Executive interference. Besides, in this particular +case, I was urged that justice be promptly executed +by the most powerful man in Congress. I advise you to +avoid a quarrel with old Stoneman at this crisis in our +history.”</p> +<p>The President sat on a sofa with his legs crossed, relapsed +into an attitude of resignation, and listened in +silence until the last sentence, when suddenly he sat bolt +upright, fixed his deep gray eyes intently on Stanton and +said:</p> +<p>“Mr. Secretary, I reckon you will have to execute that +order.”</p> +<p>“I cannot do it,” came the firm answer. “It is an +interference with justice, and I will not execute it.”</p> +<p>Mr. Lincoln held his eyes steadily on Stanton and +slowly said:</p> +<p>“Mr. Secretary, it will have to be done.”</p> +<p>Stanton wheeled in his chair, seized a pen and wrote +very rapidly a few lines to which he fixed his signature. +He rose with the paper in his hand, walked to his chief, +and with deep emotion said:</p> +<p>“Mr. President, I wish to thank you for your constant +friendship during the trying years I have held this office. +The war is ended, and my work is done. I hand you my +resignation.”</p> +<p>Mr. Lincoln’s lips came suddenly together, he slowly +rose, and looked down with surprise into the flushed +angry face.</p> +<p>He took the paper, tore it into pieces, slipped one of his +long arms around the Secretary, and said in low accents: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span></p> +<p>“Stanton, you have been a faithful public servant, and +it is not for you to say when you will no longer be needed. +Go on with your work. I will have my way in this matter; +but I will attend to it personally.”</p> +<p>Stanton resumed his seat, and the President returned +to the White House.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_A_CLASH_OF_GIANTS' id='IV_A_CLASH_OF_GIANTS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Clash of Giants</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Elsie secured from the Surgeon-General temporary +passes for the day, and sent her friends to +the hospital with the promise that she would not +leave the White House until she had secured the pardon.</p> +<p>The President greeted her with unusual warmth. The +smile that had only haunted his sad face during four years +of struggle, defeat, and uncertainty had now burst into +joy that made his powerful head radiate light. Victory +had lifted the veil from his soul, and he was girding himself +for the task of healing the Nation’s wounds.</p> +<p>“I’ll have it ready for you in a moment, Miss Elsie,” he +said, touching with his sinewy hand a paper which lay on +his desk, bearing on its face the red seal of the Republic. +“I am only waiting to receive the passes.”</p> +<p>“I am very grateful to you, Mr. President,” the girl +said feelingly.</p> +<p>“But tell me,” he said, with quaint, fatherly humour, +“why you, of all our girls, the brightest, fiercest little +Yankee in town, so take to heart a rebel boy’s sorrows?”</p> +<p>Elsie blushed, and then looked at him frankly with a +saucy smile.</p> +<p>“I am fulfilling the Commandments.”</p> +<p>“Love your enemies?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span></p> +<p>“Certainly. How could one help loving the sweet, +motherly face you saw yesterday.”</p> +<p>The President laughed heartily. “I see—of course, of +course!”</p> +<p>“The Honourable Austin Stoneman,” suddenly announced +a clerk at his elbow.</p> +<p>Elsie started in surprise and whispered:</p> +<p>“Do not let my father know I am here. I will wait in +the next room. You’ll let nothing delay the pardon, will +you, Mr. President?”</p> +<p>Mr. Lincoln warmly pressed her hand as she disappeared +through the door leading into Major Hay’s room, +and turned to meet the Great Commoner who hobbled +slowly in, leaning on his crooked cane.</p> +<p>At this moment he was a startling and portentous figure +in the drama of the Nation, the most powerful parliamentary +leader in American history, not excepting Henry +Clay.</p> +<p>No stranger ever passed this man without a second +look. His clean-shaven face, the massive chiselled features, +his grim eagle look, and cold, colourless eyes, with +the frosts of his native Vermont sparkling in their depths, +compelled attention.</p> +<p>His walk was a painful hobble. He was lame in both +feet, and one of them was deformed. The left leg ended +in a mere bunch of flesh, resembling more closely an +elephant’s hoof than the foot of a man.</p> +<p>He was absolutely bald, and wore a heavy brown wig +that seemed too small to reach the edge of his enormous +forehead. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span></p> +<p>He rarely visited the White House. He was the able, +bold, unscrupulous leader of leaders, and men came to see +him. He rarely smiled, and when he did it was the smile +of the cynic and misanthrope. His tongue had the lash of +a scorpion. He was a greater terror to the trimmers and +time-servers of his own party than to his political foes. He +had hated the President with sullen, consistent, and unyielding +venom from his first nomination at Chicago down +to the last rumour of his new proclamation.</p> +<p>In temperament a fanatic, in impulse a born revolutionist, +the word conservatism was to him as a red rag to +a bull. The first clash of arms was music to his soul. He +laughed at the call for 75,000 volunteers, and demanded +the immediate equipment of an army of a million men. +He saw it grow to 2,000,000. From the first, his eagle +eye had seen the end and all the long, blood-marked way +between. And from the first, he began to plot the most +cruel and awful vengeance in human history.</p> +<p>And now his time had come.</p> +<p>The giant figure in the White House alone had dared to +brook his anger and block the way; for old Stoneman +was the Congress of the United States. The opposition +was too weak even for his contempt. Cool, deliberate, and +venomous alike in victory or defeat, the fascination of his +positive faith and revolutionary programme had drawn +the rank and file of his party in Congress to him as +charmed satellites.</p> +<p>The President greeted him cordially, and with his +habitual deference to age and physical infirmity hastened +to place for him an easy chair near his desk. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span></p> +<p>He was breathing heavily and evidently labouring +under great emotion. He brought his cane to the floor +with violence, placed both hands on its crook, leaned +his massive jaws on his hands for a moment, and then +said:</p> +<p>“Mr. President, I have not annoyed you with many requests +during the past four years, nor am I here to-day +to ask any favours. I have come to warn you that, in the +course you have mapped out, the executive and legislative +branches have come to the parting of the ways, and +that your encroachments on the functions of Congress +will be tolerated, now that the Rebellion is crushed, not +for a single moment!”</p> +<p>Mr. Lincoln listened with dignity, and a ripple of fun +played about his eyes as he looked at his grim visitor. +The two men were face to face at last—the two men +above all others who had built and were to build the +foundations of the New Nation—Lincoln’s in love and +wisdom to endure forever, the Great Commoner’s in hate +and madness, to bear its harvest of tragedy and death +for generations yet unborn.</p> +<p>“Well, now, Stoneman,” began the good-humoured +voice, “that puts me in mind——”</p> +<p>The old Commoner lifted his hand with a gesture of +angry impatience:</p> +<p>“Save your fables for fools. Is it true that you have +prepared a proclamation restoring the conquered province +of North Carolina to its place as a State in the Union +with no provision for negro suffrage or the exile and disfranchisement +of its rebels?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></p> +<p>The President rose and walked back and forth with +his hands folded behind him before answering.</p> +<p>“I have. The Constitution grants to the National +Government no power to regulate suffrage, and makes no +provision for the control of ‘conquered provinces.’”</p> +<p>“Constitution!” thundered Stoneman. “I have a +hundred constitutions in the pigeonholes of my desk!”</p> +<p>“I have sworn to support but one.”</p> +<p>“A worn-out rag——”</p> +<p>“Rag or silk, I’ve sworn to execute it, and I’ll do it, so +help me God!” said the quiet voice.</p> +<p>“You’ve been doing it for the past four years, haven’t +you!” sneered the Commoner. “What right had you +under the Constitution to declare war against a ‘sovereign’ +State? To invade one for coercion? To blockade a +port? To declare slaves free? To suspend the writ of +<i>habeas corpus</i>? To create the State of West Virginia by +the consent of two states, one of which was dead, and the +other one of which lived in Ohio? By what authority +have you appointed military governors in the ‘sovereign’ +States of Virginia, Tennessee, and Louisiana? Why +trim the hedge and lie about it? We, too, are revolutionists, +and you are our executive. The Constitution +sustained and protected slavery. It <i>was</i> ‘a league with +death and a covenant with hell,’ and our flag ‘a polluted +rag!’”</p> +<p>“In the stress of war,” said the President, with a far-away +look, “it was necessary that I do things as Commander-in-Chief +of the Army and Navy to save the Union +which I have no right to do now that the Union is saved +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +and its Constitution preserved. My first duty is to re-establish +the Constitution as our supreme law over every +inch of our soil.”</p> +<p>“The Constitution be d——d!” hissed the old man. +“It was the creation, both in letter and spirit, of the +slaveholders of the South.”</p> +<p>“Then the world is their debtor, and their work is a +monument of imperishable glory to them and to their +children. I have sworn to preserve it!”</p> +<p>“We have outgrown the swaddling clothes of a babe. +We will make new constitutions!”</p> +<p>“‘Fools rush in where angels fear to tread,’” softly +spoke the tall, self-contained man.</p> +<p>For the first time the old leader winced. He had long +ago exhausted the vocabulary of contempt on the President, +his character, ability, and policy. He felt as a +shock the first impression of supreme authority with +which he spoke. The man he had despised had grown +into the great constructive statesman who would dispute +with him every inch of ground in the attainment of his +sinister life purpose.</p> +<p>His hatred grew more intense as he realized the prestige +and power with which he was clothed by his mighty +office.</p> +<p>With an effort he restrained his anger, and assumed an +argumentative tone.</p> +<p>“Can’t you see that your so-called States are now but +conquered provinces? That North Carolina and other +waste territories of the United States are unfit to associate +with civilized communities?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span></p> +<p>“We fought no war of conquest,” quietly urged the +President, “but one of self-preservation as an indissoluble +Union. No State ever got out of it, by the grace of God +and the power of our arms. Now that we have won, +and established for all time its unity, shall we stultify +ourselves by declaring we were wrong? These States +must be immediately restored to their rights, or we shall +betray the blood we have shed. There are no ‘conquered +provinces’ for us to spoil. A nation cannot make +conquest of its own territory.”</p> +<p>“But we are acting outside the Constitution,” interrupted +Stoneman.</p> +<p>“Congress has no existence outside the Constitution,” +was the quick answer.</p> +<p>The old Commoner scowled, and his beetling brows +hid for a moment his eyes. His keen intellect was catching +its first glimpse of the intellectual grandeur of the man +with whom he was grappling. The facility with which +he could see all sides of a question, and the vivid imagination +which lit his mental processes, were a revelation. +We always underestimate the men we despise.</p> +<p>“Why not out with it?” cried Stoneman, suddenly +changing his tack. “You are determined to oppose +negro suffrage?”</p> +<p>“I have suggested to Governor Hahn of Louisiana to +consider the policy of admitting the more intelligent and +those who served in the war. It is only a suggestion. +The State alone has the power to confer the ballot.”</p> +<p>“But the truth is this little ‘suggestion’ of yours is only +a bone thrown to radical dogs to satisfy our howlings for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +the moment! In your soul of souls you don’t believe in +the equality of man if the man under comparison be a +negro?”</p> +<p>“I believe that there is a physical difference between +the white and black races which will forever forbid their +living together on terms of political and social equality. +If such be attempted, one must go to the wall.”</p> +<p>“Very well, pin the Southern white man to the wall. +Our party and the Nation will then be safe.”</p> +<p>“That is to say, destroy African slavery and establish +white slavery under negro masters! That would be +progress with a vengeance.”</p> +<p>A grim smile twitched the old man’s lips as he said:</p> +<p>“Yes, your prim conservative snobs and male waiting-maids +in Congress went into hysterics when I armed the +negroes. Yet the heavens have not fallen.”</p> +<p>“True. Yet no more insane blunder could now be +made than any further attempt to use these negro +troops. There can be no such thing as restoring this +Union to its basis of fraternal peace with armed negroes, +wearing the uniform of this Nation, tramping over the +South, and rousing the basest passions of the freedmen +and their former masters. General Butler, their old +commander, is now making plans for their removal, at +my request. He expects to dig the Panama Canal with +these black troops.”</p> +<p>“Fine scheme that—on a par with your messages to +Congress asking for the colonization of the whole negro +race!”</p> +<p>“It will come to that ultimately,” said the President +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +firmly. “The negro has cost us $5,000,000,000, the desolation +of ten great States, and rivers of blood. We can +well afford a few million dollars more to effect a permanent +settlement of the issue. This is the only policy on +which Seward and I have differed——”</p> +<p>“Then Seward was not an utterly hopeless fool. I’m +glad to hear something to his credit,” growled the old +Commoner.</p> +<p>“I have urged the colonization of the negroes, and I +shall continue until it is accomplished. My emancipation +proclamation was linked with this plan. Thousands +of them have lived in the North for a hundred years, yet +not one is the pastor of a white church, a judge, a governor, +a mayor, or a college president. There is no room for +two distinct races of white men in America, much less for +two distinct races of whites and blacks. We can have no inferior +servile class, peon or peasant. We must assimilate +or expel. The American is a citizen king or nothing. I +can conceive of no greater calamity than the assimilation +of the negro into our social and political life as our equal. +A mulatto citizenship would be too dear a price to pay +even for emancipation.”</p> +<p>“Words have no power to express my loathing for such +twaddle!” cried Stoneman, snapping his great jaws together +and pursing his lips with contempt.</p> +<p>“If the negro were not here would we allow him to +land?” the President went on, as if talking to himself. +“The duty to exclude carries the right to expel. +Within twenty years we can peacefully colonize the +negro in the tropics, and give him our language, literature, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +religion, and system of government under conditions +in which he can rise to the full measure of manhood. +This he can never do here. It was the fear of the black +tragedy behind emancipation that led the South into the +insanity of secession. We can never attain the ideal +Union our fathers dreamed, with millions of an alien, inferior +race among us, whose assimilation is neither possible +nor desirable. The Nation cannot now exist half +white and half black, any more than it could exist half +slave and half free.”</p> +<p>“Yet ‘God hath made of one blood all races,’” quoted +the cynic with a sneer.</p> +<p>“Yes—but finish the sentence—‘and fixed the bounds +of their habitation.’ God never meant that the negro +should leave his habitat or the white man invade his +home. Our violation of this law is written in two centuries +of shame and blood. And the tragedy will not be +closed until the black man is restored to his home.”</p> +<p>“I marvel that the minions of slavery elected Jeff +Davis their chief with so much better material at hand!”</p> +<p>“His election was a tragic and superfluous blunder. I +am the President of the United States, North and South,” +was the firm reply.</p> +<p>“Particularly the South!” hissed Stoneman. “During +all this hideous war they have been your pets—these +rebel savages who have been murdering our sons. You +have been the ever-ready champion of traitors. And you +now dare to bend this high office to their defence——”</p> +<p>“My God, Stoneman, are you a man or a savage!” +cried the President. “Is not the North equally responsible +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +for slavery? Has not the South lost all? Have +not the Southern people paid the full penalty of all the +crimes of war? Are our skirts free? Was Sherman’s +march a picnic? This war has been a giant conflict of +principles to decide whether we are a bundle of petty +sovereignties held by a rope of sand or a mighty nation of +freemen. But for the loyalty of four border Southern +States—but for Farragut and Thomas and their two +hundred thousand heroic Southern brethren who fought +for the Union against their own flesh and blood, we should +have lost. You cannot indict a people——”</p> +<p>“I do indict them!” muttered the old man.</p> +<p>“Surely,” went on the even, throbbing voice, “surely, +the vastness of this war, its titanic battles, its heroism, +its sublime earnestness, should sink into oblivion all low +schemes of vengeance! Before the sheer grandeur of its +history our children will walk with silent lips and uncovered +heads.”</p> +<p>“And forget the prison pen at Andersonville!”</p> +<p>“Yes. We refused, as a policy of war, to exchange +those prisoners, blockaded their ports, made medicine +contraband, and brought the Southern Army itself to +starvation. The prison records, when made at last for +history, will show as many deaths on our side as on theirs.”</p> +<p>“The murderer on the gallows always wins more sympathy +than his forgotten victim,” interrupted the cynic.</p> +<p>“The sin of vengeance is an easy one under the subtle +plea of justice,” said the sorrowful voice. “Have we not +had enough bloodshed? Is not God’s vengeance enough? +When Sherman’s army swept to the sea, before him lay +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +the Garden of Eden, behind him stretched a desert! A +hundred years cannot give back to the wasted South her +wealth, or two hundred years restore to her the lost seed +treasures of her young manhood——”</p> +<p>“The imbecility of a policy of mercy in this crisis can +only mean the reign of treason and violence,” persisted +the old man, ignoring the President’s words.</p> +<p>“I leave my policy before the judgment bar of time, +content with its verdict. In my place, radicalism would +have driven the border States into the Confederacy, every +Southern man back to his kinsmen, and divided the North +itself into civil conflict. I have sought to guide and control +public opinion into the ways on which depended our +life. This rational flexibility of policy you and your +fellow radicals have been pleased to call my vacillating +imbecility.”</p> +<p>“And what is your message for the South?”</p> +<p>“Simply this: ‘Abolish slavery, come back home, and +behave yourself.’ Lee surrendered to our offers of peace +and amnesty. In my last message to Congress I told the +Southern people they could have peace at any moment +by simply laying down their arms and submitting to +National authority. Now that they have taken me at +my word, shall I betray them by an ignoble revenge? +Vengeance cannot heal and purify: it can only brutalize +and destroy.”</p> +<p>Stoneman shuffled to his feet with impatience.</p> +<p>“I see it is useless to argue with you. I’ll not waste +my breath. I give you an ultimatum. The South is +conquered soil. I mean to blot it from the map. Rather +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +than admit one traitor to the halls of Congress from these +so-called States I will shatter the Union itself into ten +thousand fragments! I will not sit beside men whose +clothes smell of the blood of my kindred. At least dry +them before they come in. Four years ago, with yells and +curses, these traitors left the halls of Congress to join the +armies of Catiline. Shall they return to rule?”</p> +<p>“I repeat,” said the President, “you cannot indict a +people. Treason is an easy word to speak. A traitor is +one who fights and loses. Washington was a traitor to +George III. Treason won, and Washington is immortal. +Treason is a word that victors hurl at those who fail.”</p> +<p>“Listen to me,” Stoneman interrupted with vehemence. +“The life of our party demands that the negro be given +the ballot and made the ruler of the South. This can be +done only by the extermination of its landed aristocracy, +that their mothers shall not breed another race of +traitors. This is not vengeance. It is justice, it is patriotism, +it is the highest wisdom and humanity. Nature, +at times, blots out whole communities and races that +obstruct progress. Such is the political genius of these +people that, unless you make the negro the ruler, the +South will yet reconquer the North and undo the work of +this war.”</p> +<p>“If the South in poverty and ruin can do this, we deserve +to be ruled! The North is rich and powerful—the +South a land of wreck and tomb. I greet with wonder, +shame, and scorn such ignoble fear! The Nation cannot +be healed until the South is healed. Let the gulf be +closed in which we bury slavery, sectional animosity, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +all strifes and hatreds. The good sense of our people will +never consent to your scheme of insane vengeance.”</p> +<p>“The people have no sense. A new fool is born every +second. They are ruled by impulse and passion.”</p> +<p>“I have trusted them before, and they have not failed +me. The day I left for Gettysburg to dedicate the battlefield, +you were so sure of my defeat in the approaching +convention that you shouted across the street to a friend +as I passed: ‘Let the dead bury the dead!’ It was a brilliant +sally of wit. I laughed at it myself. And yet the +people unanimously called me again to lead them to +victory.”</p> +<p>“Yes, in the past,” said Stoneman bitterly, “you have +triumphed, but mark my word: from this hour your star +grows dim. The slumbering fires of passion will be +kindled. In the fight we join to-day I’ll break your back +and wring the neck of every dastard and time-server who +fawns at your feet.”</p> +<p>The President broke into a laugh that only increased +the old man’s wrath.</p> +<p>“I protest against the insult of your buffoonery!”</p> +<p>“Excuse me, Stoneman; I have to laugh or die beneath +the burdens I bear, surrounded by such supporters!”</p> +<p>“Mark my word,” growled the old leader, “from the +moment you publish that North Carolina proclamation, +your name will be a by-word in Congress.”</p> +<p>“There are higher powers.”</p> +<p>“You will need them.”</p> +<p>“I’ll have help,” was the calm reply, as the dreaminess +of the poet and mystic stole over the rugged face. “I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +would be a presumptuous fool, indeed, if I thought that +for a day I could discharge the duties of this great office +without the aid of One who is wiser and stronger than all +others.”</p> +<p>“You’ll need the help of Almighty God in the course +you’ve mapped out!”</p> +<p>“Some ships come into port that are not steered,” went +on the dreamy voice. “Suppose Pickett had charged +one hour earlier at Gettysburg? Suppose the <i>Monitor</i> +had arrived one hour later at Hampton Roads? I had +a dream last night that always presages great events. +I saw a white ship passing swiftly under full sail. I have +often seen her before. I have never known her port of +entry, or her destination, but I have always known her +Pilot!”</p> +<p>The cynic’s lips curled with scorn. He leaned heavily +on his cane, and took a shambling step toward the door.</p> +<p>“You refuse to heed the wishes of Congress?”</p> +<p>“If your words voice them, yes. Force your scheme +of revenge on the South, and you sow the wind to reap the +whirlwind.”</p> +<p>“Indeed! and from what secret cave will this whirlwind +come?”</p> +<p>“The despair of a mighty race of world-conquering +men, even in defeat, is still a force that statesmen reckon +with.”</p> +<p>“I defy them,” growled the old Commoner.</p> +<p>Again the dreamy look returned to Lincoln’s face, and +he spoke as if repeating a message of the soul caught in the +clouds in an hour of transfiguration: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span></p> +<p>“And I’ll trust the honour of Lee and his people. The +mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield +and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone +all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of +the Union, when touched again, as they surely will be, by +the better angels of our nature.”</p> +<p>“You’ll be lucky to live to hear that chorus.”</p> +<p>“To dream it is enough. If I fall by the hand of an +assassin now, he will not come from the South. I was +safer in Richmond, this week, than I am in Washington, +to-day.”</p> +<p>The cynic grunted and shuffled another step toward the +door.</p> +<p>The President came closer.</p> +<p>“Look here, Stoneman; have you some deep personal +motive in this vengeance on the South? Come, now, +I’ve never in my life known you to tell a lie.”</p> +<p>The answer was silence and a scowl.</p> +<p>“Am I right?”</p> +<p>“Yes and no. I hate the South because I hate the +Satanic Institution of Slavery with consuming fury. It +has long ago rotted the heart out of the Southern people. +Humanity cannot live in its tainted air, and its children +are doomed. If my personal wrongs have ordained me +for a mighty task, no matter; I am simply the chosen +instrument of Justice!”</p> +<p>Again the mystic light clothed the rugged face, calm +and patient as Destiny, as the President slowly repeated:</p> +<p>“With malice toward none, with charity for all, with +firmness in the right, as God gives me to see the right, I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +shall strive to finish the work we are in, and bind up the +Nation’s wounds.”</p> +<p>“I’ve given you fair warning,” cried the old Commoner, +trembling with rage, as he hobbled nearer the door. +“From this hour your administration is doomed.”</p> +<p>“Stoneman,” said the kindly voice, “I can’t tell you +how your venomous philanthropy sickens me. You have +misunderstood and abused me at every step during the +past four years. I bear you no ill will. If I have said +anything to-day to hurt your feelings, forgive me. The +earnestness with which you pressed the war was an invaluable +service to me and to the Nation. I’d rather +work with you than fight you. But now that we have +to fight, I’d as well tell you I’m not afraid of you. I’ll +suffer my right arm to be severed from my body before +I’ll sign one measure of ignoble revenge on a brave, fallen +foe, and I’ll keep up this fight until I win, die, or my +country forsakes me.”</p> +<p>“I have always known you had a sneaking admiration +for the South,” came the sullen sneer.</p> +<p>“I love the South! It is a part of this Union. I love +every foot of its soil, every hill and valley, mountain, lake, +and sea, and every man, woman, and child that breathes +beneath its skies. I am an American.”</p> +<p>As the burning words leaped from the heart of the +President the broad shoulders of his tall form lifted, and +his massive head rose in unconscious heroic pose.</p> +<p>“I marvel that you ever made war upon your loved +ones!” cried the cynic.</p> +<p>“We fought the South because we loved her and would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +not let her go. Now that she is crushed and lies bleeding +at our feet—you shall not make war on the wounded, +dying, and the dead!”</p> +<p>Again the lion gleamed in the calm gray eyes.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_THE_BATTLE_OF_LOVE' id='IV_THE_BATTLE_OF_LOVE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Battle of Love</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Elsie carried Ben Cameron’s pardon to the anxious +mother and sister with her mind in a tumult. +The name on these fateful papers fascinated her. +She read it again and again with a curious personal joy +that she had saved a life!</p> +<p>She had entered on her work among the hospitals a +bitter partisan of her father’s school, with the simple +idea that all Southerners were savage brutes. Yet as she +had seen the wounded boys from the South among the +men in blue, more and more she had forgotten the difference +between them. They were so young, these slender, +dark-haired ones from Dixie—so pitifully young! Some +of them were only fifteen, and hundreds not over sixteen. +A lad of fourteen she had kissed one day in sheer agony +of pity for his loneliness.</p> +<p>The part her father was playing in the drama on which +Ben Cameron’s life had hung puzzled her. Was his the +mysterious arm back of Stanton? Echoes of the fierce +struggle with the President had floated through the half-open +door.</p> +<p>She had implicit faith in her father’s patriotism and +pride in his giant intellect. She knew that he was a king +among men by divine right of inherent power. His sensitive +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +spirit, brooding over a pitiful lameness, had hidden +from the world behind a frowning brow like a wounded +animal. Yet her hand in hours of love, when no eye save +God’s could see, had led his great soul out of its dark +lair. She loved him with brooding tenderness, knowing +that she had gotten closer to his inner life than any +other human being—closer than her own mother, who +had died while she was a babe. Her aunt, with whom she +and Phil now lived, had told her the mother’s life was not +a happy one. Their natures had not proved congenial, +and her gentle Quaker spirit had died of grief in the quiet +home in southern Pennsylvania.</p> +<p>Yet there were times when he was a stranger even to +her. Some secret, dark and cold, stood between them. +Once she had tenderly asked him what it meant. He +merely pressed her hand, smiled wearily, and said:</p> +<p>“Nothing, my dear, only the Blue Devils after me +again.”</p> +<p>He had always lived in Washington in a little house +with black shutters, near the Capitol, while the children +had lived with his sister, near the White House, where +they had grown from babyhood.</p> +<p>A curious fact about this place on the Capitol hill +was that his housekeeper, Lydia Brown, was a mulatto, +a woman of extraordinary animal beauty and the +fiery temper of a leopardess. Elsie had ventured there +once and got such a welcome she would never return. +All sorts of gossip could be heard in Washington about +this woman, her jewels, her dresses, her airs, her assumption +of the dignity of the presiding genius of National +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +legislation and her domination of the old Commoner and +his life. It gradually crept into the newspapers and magazines, +but he never once condescended to notice it.</p> +<p>Elsie begged her father to close this house and live with +them.</p> +<p>His reply was short and emphatic:</p> +<p>“Impossible, my child. This club foot must live next +door to the Capitol. My house is simply an executive +office at which I sleep. Half the business of the Nation +is transacted there. Don’t mention this subject again.”</p> +<p>Elsie choked back a sob at the cold menace in the +tones of this command, and never repeated her request. +It was the only wish he had ever denied her, and, somehow, +her heart would come back to it with persistence +and brood and wonder over his motive.</p> +<p>The nearer she drew, this morning, to the hospital +door, the closer the wounded boy’s life and loved ones +seemed to hers. She thought with anguish of the storm +about to break between her father and the President—the +one demanding the desolation of their land, wasted, +harried, and unarmed!—the President firm in his policy +of mercy, generosity, and healing.</p> +<p>Her father would not mince words. His scorpion +tongue, set on fires of hell, might start a conflagration +that would light the Nation with its glare. Would not his +name be a terror for every man and woman born under +Southern skies? The sickening feeling stole over her that +he was wrong, and his policy cruel and unjust.</p> +<p>She had never before admired the President. It was +fashionable to speak with contempt of him in Washington. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +He had little following in Congress. Nine tenths of +the politicians hated or feared him, and she knew her +father had been the soul of a conspiracy at the Capitol to +prevent his second nomination and create a dictatorship, +under which to carry out an iron policy of reconstruction +in the South. And now she found herself heart and soul +the champion of the President.</p> +<p>She was ashamed of her disloyalty, and felt a rush of +impetuous anger against Ben and his people for thrusting +themselves between her and her own. Yet how absurd to +feel thus against the innocent victims of a great tragedy! +She put the thought from her. Still she must part from +them now before the brewing storm burst. It would be +best for her and best for them. This pardon delivered +would end their relations. She would send the papers +by a messenger and not see them again. And then she +thought with a throb of girlish pride of the hour to come +in the future when Ben’s big brown eyes would be softened +with a tear when he would learn that she had saved +his life. They had concealed all from him as yet.</p> +<p>She was afraid to question too closely in her own heart +the shadowy motive that lay back of her joy. She read +again with a lingering smile the name “Ben Cameron” +on the paper with its big red Seal of Life. She had +laughed at boys who had made love to her, dreaming a +wider, nobler life of heroic service. And she felt that she +was fulfilling her ideal in the generous hand she had extended +to these who were friendless. Were they not the +children of her soul in that larger, finer world of which +she had dreamed and sung? Why should she give them +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +up now for brutal politics? Their sorrow had been hers, +their joy should be hers, too. She would take the papers +herself and then say good-bye.</p> +<p>She found the mother and sister beside the cot. Ben +was sleeping with Margaret holding one of his hands. +The mother was busy sewing for the wounded Confederate +boys she had found scattered through the hospital.</p> +<p>At the sight of Elsie holding aloft the message of life +she sprang to meet her with a cry of joy.</p> +<p>She clasped the girl to her breast, unable to speak. At +last she released her and said with a sob:</p> +<p>“My child, through good report and through evil report +my love will enfold you!”</p> +<p>Elsie stammered, looked away, and tried to hide her +emotion. Margaret had knelt and bowed her head on +Ben’s cot. She rose at length, threw her arms around +Elsie in a resistless impulse, kissed her and whispered:</p> +<p>“My sweet sister!”</p> +<p>Elsie’s heart leaped at the words, as her eyes rested on +the face of the sleeping soldier.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_THE_ASSASSINATION' id='VI_THE_ASSASSINATION'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Assassination</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Elsie called in the afternoon at the Camerons’ +lodgings, radiant with pride, accompanied by +her brother.</p> +<p>Captain Phil Stoneman, athletic, bronzed, a veteran of +two years’ service, dressed in his full uniform, was the +ideal soldier, and yet he had never loved war. He was +bubbling over with quiet joy that the end had come and +he could soon return to a rational life. Inheriting his +mother’s temperament, he was generous, enterprising, +quick, intelligent, modest, and ambitious. War had +seemed to him a horrible tragedy from the first. He had +early learned to respect a brave foe, and bitterness had +long since melted out of his heart.</p> +<p>He had laughed at his father’s harsh ideas of Southern +life gained as a politician, and, while loyal to him after a +boy’s fashion, he took no stock in his Radical programme.</p> +<p>The father, colossal egotist that he was, heard Phil’s +protests with mild amusement and quiet pride in his +independence, for he loved this boy with deep tenderness.</p> +<p>Phil had been touched by the story of Ben’s narrow +escape, and was anxious to show his mother and sister +every courtesy possible in part atonement for the wrong +he felt had been done them. He was timid with girls, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +and yet he wished to give Margaret a cordial greeting for +Elsie’s sake. He was not prepared for the shock the +first appearance of the Southern girl gave him.</p> +<p>When the stately figure swept through the door to +greet him, her black eyes sparkling with welcome, her +voice low and tender with genuine feeling, he caught his +breath in surprise.</p> +<p>Elsie noted his confusion with amusement and said:</p> +<p>“I must go to the hospital for a little work. Now, Phil, +I’ll meet you at the door at eight o’clock.”</p> +<p>“I’ll not forget,” he answered abstractedly, watching +Margaret intently as she walked with Elsie to the door.</p> +<p>He saw that her dress was of coarse, unbleached cotton, +dyed with the juice of walnut hulls and set with wooden +hand-made buttons. The story these things told of war +and want was eloquent, yet she wore them with unconscious +dignity. She had not a pin or brooch or piece of +jewellery. Everything about her was plain and smooth, +graceful and gracious. Her face was large—the lovely +oval type—and her luxuriant hair, parted in the middle, +fell downward in two great waves. Tall, stately, handsome, +her dark rare Southern beauty full of subtle languor +and indolent grace, she was to Phil a revelation.</p> +<p>The coarse black dress that clung closely to her figure +seemed alive when she moved, vital with her beauty. +The musical cadences of her voice were vibrant with +feeling, sweet, tender, and homelike. And the odour +of the rose she wore pinned low on her breast he could +swear was the perfume of her breath.</p> +<p>Lingering in her eyes and echoing in the tones of her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +voice, he caught the shadowy memory of tears for the +loved and lost that gave a strange pathos and haunting +charm to her youth.</p> +<p>She had returned quickly and was talking at ease with +him.</p> +<p>“I’m not going to tell you, Captain Stoneman, that I +hope to be a sister to you. You have already made +yourself my brother in what you did for Ben.”</p> +<p>“Nothing, I assure you, Miss Cameron, that any +soldier wouldn’t do for a brave foe.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps; but when the foe happens to be an only +brother, my chum and playmate, brave and generous, +whom I’ve worshipped as my beau-ideal man—why, you +know I must thank you for taking him in your arms that +day. May I, again?”</p> +<p>Phil felt the soft warm hand clasp his, while the black +eyes sparkled and glowed their friendly message.</p> +<p>He murmured something incoherently, looked at Margaret +as if in a spell, and forgot to let her hand go.</p> +<p>She laughed at last, and he blushed and dropped it as +though it were a live coal.</p> +<p>“I was about to forget, Miss Cameron. I wish to take +you to the theatre to-night, if you will go?”</p> +<p>“To the theatre?”</p> +<p>“Yes. It’s to be an occasion, Elsie tells me. Laura +Keene’s last appearance in ‘Our American Cousin,’ and +her one-thousandth performance of the play. She played +it in Chicago at McVicker’s, when the President was first +nominated, to hundreds of the delegates who voted for +him. He is to be present to-night, so the <i>Evening Star</i> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +has announced, and General and Mrs. Grant with him. +It will be the opportunity of your life to see these famous +men—besides, I wish you to see the city illuminated on +the way.”</p> +<p>Margaret hesitated.</p> +<p>“I should like to go,” she said with some confusion. +“But you see we are old-fashioned Scotch Presbyterians +down in our village in South Carolina. I never was in +a theatre—and this is Good Friday——”</p> +<p>“That’s a fact, sure,” said Phil thoughtfully. “It +never occurred to me. War is not exactly a spiritual +stimulant, and it blurs the calendar. I believe we fight +on Sundays oftener than on any other day.”</p> +<p>“But I’m crazy to see the President since Ben’s +pardon. Mamma will be here in a moment, and I’ll ask +her.”</p> +<p>“You see, it’s really an occasion,” Phil went on. +“The people are all going there to see President Lincoln +in the hour of his triumph, and his great General fresh +from the field of victory. Grant has just arrived in +town.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Cameron entered and greeted Phil with motherly +tenderness.</p> +<p>“Captain, you’re so much like my boy! Had you +noticed it, Margaret?”</p> +<p>“Of course, Mamma, but I was afraid I’d tire him with +flattery if I tried to tell him.”</p> +<p>“Only his hair is light and wavy, and Ben’s straight +and black, or you’d call them twins. Ben’s a little taller—excuse +us, Captain Stoneman, but we’ve fallen so in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +love with your little sister we feel we’ve known you all +our lives.”</p> +<p>“I assure you, Mrs. Cameron, your flattery is very +sweet. Elsie and I do not remember our mother, and +all this friendly criticism is more than welcome.”</p> +<p>“Mamma, Captain Stoneman asks me to go with him +and his sister to-night to see the President at the theatre. +May I go?”</p> +<p>“Will the President be there, Captain?” asked Mrs. +Cameron.</p> +<p>“Yes, Madam, with General and Mrs. Grant—it’s +really a great public function in celebration of peace and +victory. To-day the flag was raised over Fort Sumter, +the anniversary of its surrender four years ago. The city +will be illuminated.”</p> +<p>“Then, of course, you can go. I will sit with Ben. +I wish you to see the President.”</p> +<p>At seven o’clock Phil called for Margaret. They walked +to the Capitol hill and down Pennsylvania Avenue.</p> +<p>The city was in a ferment. Vast crowds thronged the +streets. In front of the hotel where General Grant +stopped the throng was so dense the streets were completely +blocked. Soldiers, soldiers, soldiers, at every +turn, in squads, in companies, in regimental crowds, +shouting cries of victory.</p> +<p>The display of lights was dazzling in its splendour. +Every building in every street, in every nook and corner +of the city, was lighted from attic to cellar. The public +buildings and churches vied with each other in the magnificence +of their decorations and splendour of illuminations. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span></p> +<p>They turned a corner, and suddenly the Capitol on the +throne of its imperial hill loomed a grand constellation in +the heavens! Another look, and it seemed a huge bonfire +against the background of the dark skies. Every window +in its labyrinths of marble, from the massive base to +its crowning statue of Freedom, gleamed and flashed with +light—more than ten thousand jets poured their rays +through its windows, besides the innumerable lights that +circled the mighty dome within and without.</p> +<p>Margaret stopped, and Phil felt her soft hand grip his +arm with sudden emotion.</p> +<p>“Isn’t it sublime!” she whispered.</p> +<p>“Glorious!” he echoed.</p> +<p>But he was thinking of the pressure of her hand on his +arm and the subtle tones of her voice. Somehow he felt +that the light came from her eyes. He forgot the Capitol +and the surging crowds before the sweeter creative wonder +silently growing in his soul.</p> +<p>“And yet,” she faltered, “when I think of what all this +means for our people at home—their sorrow and poverty +and ruin—you know it makes me faint.”</p> +<p>Phil’s hand timidly sought the soft one resting on his +arm and touched it reverently.</p> +<p>“Believe me, Miss Margaret, it will be all for the best +in the end. The South will yet rise to a nobler life than +she has ever lived in the past. This is her victory as well +as ours.”</p> +<p>“I wish I could think so,” she answered.</p> +<p>They passed the City Hall and saw across its front, in +giant letters of fire thirty feet deep, the words: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span></p> +<p>“UNION, SHERMAN, AND GRANT”</p> +<p>On Pennsylvania Avenue the hotels and stores had +hung every window, awning, cornice, and swaying tree-top +with lanterns. The grand avenue was bridged by tri-coloured +balloons floating and shimmering ghostlike far +up in the dark sky. Above these, in the blacker zone +toward the stars, the heavens were flashing sheets of +chameleon flames from bursting rockets.</p> +<p>Margaret had never dreamed such a spectacle. She +walked in awed silence, now and then suppressing a sob +for the memory of those she had loved and lost. A moment +of bitterness would cloud her heart, and then with +the sense of Phil’s nearness, his generous nature, the +beauty and goodness of his sister, and all they owed to her +for Ben’s life, the cloud would pass.</p> +<p>At every public building, and in front of every great +hotel, bands were playing. The wild war strains, floating +skyward, seemed part of the changing scheme of light. +The odour of burnt powder and smouldering rockets +filled the warm spring air.</p> +<p>The deep bay of the great fort guns now began to echo +from every hilltop commanding the city, while a thousand +smaller guns barked and growled from every square +and park and crossing.</p> +<p>Jay Cooke & Co’s. banking-house had stretched across +its front, in enormous blazing letters, the words:</p> +<p>“THE BUSY B’S—BALLS, BALLOTS, AND BONDS”</p> +<p>Every telegraph and newspaper office was a roaring +whirlpool of excitement, for the same scenes were being +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +enacted in every centre of the North. The whole city +was now a fairy dream, its dirt and sin, shame and crime, +all wrapped in glorious light.</p> +<p>But above all other impressions was the contagion of +the thunder shouts of hosts of men surging through the +streets—the human roar with its animal and spiritual +magnetism, wild, resistless, unlike any other force in the +universe!</p> +<p>Margaret’s hand again and again unconsciously tightened +its hold on Phil’s arm, and he felt that the whole +celebration had been gotten up for his benefit.</p> +<p>They passed through a little park on their way to +Ford’s Theatre on 10th Street, and the eye of the Southern +girl was quick to note the budding flowers and full-blown +lilacs.</p> +<p>“See what an early spring!” she cried. “I know the +flowers at home are gorgeous now.”</p> +<p>“I shall hope to see you among them some day, when +all the clouds have lifted,” he said.</p> +<p>She smiled and replied with simple earnestness:</p> +<p>“A warm welcome will await your coming.”</p> +<p>And Phil resolved to lose no time in testing it.</p> +<p>They turned into 10th Street, and in the middle of +the block stood the plain three-story brick structure of +Ford’s Theatre, an enormous crowd surging about its +five doorways and spreading out on the sidewalk and half +across the driveway.</p> +<p>“Is that the theatre?” asked Margaret.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Why, it looks like a church without a steeple.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span></p> +<p>“Exactly what it really is, Miss Margaret. It was a +Baptist church. They turned it into a playhouse, by +remodelling its gallery into a dress-circle and balcony and +adding another gallery above. My grandmother Stoneman +is a devoted Baptist, and was an attendant at this +church. My father never goes to church, but he used to +go here occasionally to please her. Elsie and I frequently +came.”</p> +<p>Phil pushed his way rapidly through the crowd with a +peculiar sense of pleasure in making a way for Margaret +and in defending her from the jostling throng.</p> +<p>They found Elsie at the door, stamping her foot with +impatience.</p> +<p>“Well, I must say, Phil, this is prompt for a soldier who +had positive orders,” she cried. “I’ve been here an hour.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense, Sis, I’m ahead of time,” he protested.</p> +<p>Elsie held up her watch.</p> +<p>“It’s a quarter past eight. Every seat is filled, and +they’ve stopped selling standing-room. I hope you have +good seats.”</p> +<p>“The best in the house to-night, the first row in the +balcony dress-circle, opposite the President’s box. We +can see everything on the stage, in the box, and every +nook and corner of the house.”</p> +<p>“Then I’ll forgive you for keeping me waiting.”</p> +<p>They ascended the stairs, pushed through the throng +standing, and at last reached the seats.</p> +<p>What a crowd! The building was a mass of throbbing +humanity, and, over all, the hum of the thrilling wonder +of peace and victory! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></p> +<p>The women in magnificent costumes, officers in uniforms +flashing with gold, the show of wealth and power, +the perfume of flowers and the music of violin and flutes +gave Margaret the impression of a dream, so sharp +was the contrast with her own life and people in the +South.</p> +<p>The interior of the house was a billow of red, white, and +blue. The President’s box was wrapped in two enormous +silk flags with gold-fringed edges gracefully draped and +hanging in festoons.</p> +<p>Withers, the leader of the orchestra, was in high +feather. He raised his baton with quick, inspired movement. +It was for him a personal triumph, too. He had +composed the music of a song for the occasion. It was +dedicated to the President, and the programme announced +that it would be rendered during the evening between the +acts by a famous quartet, assisted by the whole company +in chorus. The National flag would be draped about +each singer, worn as the togas of ancient Greece and +Rome.</p> +<p>It was already known by the crowd that General and +Mrs. Grant had left the city for the North and could not +be present, but every eye was fixed on the door through +which the President and Mrs. Lincoln would enter. It +was the hour of his supreme triumph.</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-070.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 394px; height: 576px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 394px;'> +THE ASSASSINATION.<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span></div> +<p>What a romance his life! The thought of it thrilled the +crowd as they waited. A few years ago this tall, sad-faced +man had floated down the Sangamon River into a +rough Illinois town, ragged, penniless, friendless, alone, +begging for work. Four years before he had entered +Washington as President of the United States—but he +came under cover of the night with a handful of personal +friends, amid universal contempt for his ability and the +loud expressed conviction of his failure from within and +without his party. He faced a divided Nation and the +most awful civil convulsion in history. Through it all +he had led the Nation in safety, growing each day in +power and fame, until to-night, amid the victorious +shouts of millions of a Union fixed in eternal granite, he +stood forth the idol of the people, the first great American, +the foremost man of the world.</p> +<p>There was a stir at the door, and the tall figure suddenly +loomed in view of the crowd. With one impulse they +leaped to their feet, and shout after shout shook the +building. The orchestra was playing “Hail to the Chief!” +but nobody heard it. They saw the Chief! They were +crying their own welcome in music that came from the +rhythmic beat of human hearts.</p> +<p>As the President walked along the aisle with Mrs. +Lincoln, accompanied by Senator Harris’ daughter and +Major Rathbone, cheer after cheer burst from the crowd. +He turned, his face beaming with pleasure, and bowed as +he passed.</p> +<p>The answer of the crowd shook the building to its +foundations, and the President paused. His dark face +flashed with emotion as he looked over the sea of cheering +humanity. It was a moment of supreme exaltation. +The people had grown to know and love and trust him, +and it was sweet. His face, lit with the responsive fires of +emotion, was transfigured. The soul seemed to separate +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +itself from its dreamy, rugged dwelling-place and flash +its inspiration from the spirit world.</p> +<p>As around this man’s personality had gathered the +agony and horror of war, so now about his head glowed +and gleamed in imagination the splendours of victory.</p> +<p>Margaret impulsively put her hand on Phil’s arm:</p> +<p>“Why, how Southern he looks! How tall and dark and +typical his whole figure!”</p> +<p>“Yes, and his traits of character even more typical,” +said Phil. “On the surface, easy friendly ways and the +tenderness of a woman—beneath, an iron will and lion +heart. I like him. And what always amazes me is his +universality. A Southerner finds in him the South, the +Western man the West, even Charles Sumner, from +Boston, almost loves him. You know I think he is the +first great all-round American who ever lived in the +White House.”</p> +<p>The President’s party had now entered the box, and as +Mr. Lincoln took the armchair nearest the audience, +in full view of every eye in the house, again the cheers +rent the air. In vain Withers’ baton flew, and the +orchestra did its best. The music was drowned as in the +roar of the sea. Again he rose and bowed and smiled, +his face radiant with pleasure. The soul beneath those +deep-cut lines had long pined for the sunlight. His +love of the theatre and the humorous story were the +protest of his heart against pain and tragedy. He stood +there bowing to the people, the grandest, gentlest figure +of the fiercest war of human history—a man who was +always doing merciful things stealthily as others do +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +crimes. Little sunlight had come into his life, yet to-night +he felt that the sun of a new day in his history and +the history of the people was already tingeing the horizon +with glory.</p> +<p>Back of those smiles what a story! Many a night he +had paced back and forth in the telegraph office of the +War Department, read its awful news of defeat, and +alone sat down and cried over the list of the dead. Many +a black hour his soul had seen when the honours of +earth were forgotten and his great heart throbbed on his +sleeve. His character had grown so evenly and silently +with the burdens he had borne, working mighty deeds +with such little friction, he could not know, nor could the +crowd to whom he bowed, how deep into the core of the +people’s life the love of him had grown.</p> +<p>As he looked again over the surging crowd his tall +figure seemed to straighten, erect and buoyant, with the +new dignity of conscious triumphant leadership. He +knew that he had come unto his own at last, and his +brain was teeming with dreams of mercy and healing.</p> +<p>The President resumed his seat, the tumult died away, +and the play began amid a low hum of whispered comment +directed at the flag-draped box. The actors struggled +in vain to hold the attention of the audience, until finally +Hawk, the actor playing Dundreary, determined to +catch their ear, paused and said:</p> +<p>“Now, that reminds me of a little story, as Mr. Lincoln +says——”</p> +<p>Instantly the crowd burst into a storm of applause, the +President laughed, leaned over and spoke to his wife, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +the electric connection was made between the stage, the +box, and the people.</p> +<p>After this the play ran its smooth course, and the +audience settled into its accustomed humour of sympathetic +attention.</p> +<p>In spite of the novelty of this, her first view of a theatre, +the President fascinated Margaret. She watched the +changing lights and shadows of his sensitive face with +untiring interest, and the wonder of his life grew upon her +imagination. This man who was the idol of the North +and yet to her so purely Southern, who had come out of +the West and yet was greater than the West or the North, +and yet always supremely human—this man who sprang +to his feet from the chair of State and bowed to a sorrowing +woman with the deference of a knight, every man’s +friend, good-natured, sensible, masterful and clear in +intellect, strong, yet modest, kind and gentle—yes, he +was more interesting than all the drama and romance of +the stage!</p> +<p>He held her imagination in a spell. Elsie, divining +her abstraction, looked toward the President’s box and +saw approaching it along the balcony aisle the figure of +John Wilkes Booth.</p> +<p>“Look,” she cried, touching Margaret’s arm. “There’s +John Wilkes Booth, the actor! Isn’t he handsome? +They say he’s in love with my chum, a senator’s daughter +whose father hates Mr. Lincoln with perfect fury.”</p> +<p>“He is handsome,” Margaret answered. “But I’d +be afraid of him, with that raven hair and eyes shining +like something wild.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span></p> +<p>“They say he is wild and dissipated, yet half the silly +girls in town are in love with him. He’s as vain as a +peacock.”</p> +<p>Booth, accustomed to free access to the theatre, paused +near the entrance to the box and looked deliberately over +the great crowd, his magnetic face flushed with deep +emotion, while his fiery inspiring eyes glittered with +excitement.</p> +<p>Dressed in a suit of black broadcloth of faultless fit, +from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet he was +physically without blemish. A figure of perfect symmetry +and proportion, his dark eyes flashing, his marble +forehead crowned with curling black hair, agility and +grace stamped on every line of his being—beyond a +doubt he was the handsomest man in America. A flutter +of feminine excitement rippled the surface of the crowd in +the balcony as his well-known figure caught the wandering +eyes of the women.</p> +<p>He turned and entered the door leading to the President’s +box, and Margaret once more gave her attention to +the stage.</p> +<p>Hawk, as Dundreary, was speaking his lines and +looking directly at the President instead of at the audience:</p> +<p>“Society, eh? Well, I guess I know enough to turn +you inside out, old woman, you darned old sockdologing +man trap!”</p> +<p>Margaret winced at the coarse words, but the galleries +burst into shouts of laughter that lingered in ripples and +murmurs and the shuffling of feet. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span></p> +<p>The muffled crack of a pistol in the President’s box +hushed the laughter for an instant.</p> +<p>No one realized what had happened, and when the +assassin suddenly leaped from the box, with a blood-marked +knife flashing in his right hand, caught his foot in +the flags and fell to his knees on the stage, many thought +it a part of the programme, and a boy, leaning over the +gallery rail, giggled. When Booth turned his face of +statuesque beauty lit by eyes flashing with insane desperation +and cried, “<i>Sic semper tyrannis</i>,” they were +only confirmed in this impression.</p> +<p>A sudden, piercing scream from Mrs. Lincoln, quivering, +soul harrowing! Leaning far out of the box, from +ashen cheeks and lips leaped the piteous cry of appeal, +her hand pointing to the retreating figure:</p> +<p>“The President is shot! He has killed the President!”</p> +<p>Every heart stood still for one awful moment. The +brain refused to record the message—and then the storm +burst!</p> +<p>A wild roar of helpless fury and despair! Men hurled +themselves over the footlights in vain pursuit of the assassin. +Already the clatter of his horse’s feet could be +heard in the distance. A surgeon threw himself against +the door of the box, but it had been barred within by the +cunning hand. Another leaped on the stage, and the +people lifted him up in their arms and over the fatal +railing.</p> +<p>Women began to faint, and strong men trampled +down the weak in mad rushes from side to side.</p> +<p>The stage in a moment was a seething mass of crazed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +men, among them the actors and actresses in costumes +and painted faces, their mortal terror shining through +the rouge. They passed water up to the box, and some +tried to climb up and enter it.</p> +<p>The two hundred soldiers of the President’s guard +suddenly burst in, and, amid screams and groans of the +weak and injured, stormed the house with fixed bayonets, +cursing, yelling, and shouting at the top of their voices:</p> +<p>“Clear out! Clear out! You sons of hell!”</p> +<p>One of them suddenly bore down with fixed bayonet +toward Phil.</p> +<p>Margaret shrank in terror close to his side and tremblingly +held his arm.</p> +<p>Elsie sprang forward, her face aflame, her eyes flashing +fire, her little figure tense, erect, and quivering with rage:</p> +<p>“How dare you, idiot, brute!”</p> +<p>The soldier, brought to his senses, saw Phil in full +captain’s uniform before him, and suddenly drew himself +up, saluting. Phil ordered him to guard Margaret and +Elsie for a moment, drew his sword, leaped between the +crazed soldiers and their victims and stopped their insane +rush.</p> +<p>Within the box the great head lay in the surgeon’s +arms, the blood slowly dripping down, and the tiny death +bubbles forming on the kindly lips. They carried him +tenderly out, and another group bore after him the unconscious +wife. The people tore the seats from their +fastenings and heaped them in piles to make way for the +precious burdens.</p> +<p>As Phil pressed forward with Margaret and Elsie +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +through the open door came the roar of the mob without, +shouting its cries:</p> +<p>“The President is shot!”</p> +<p>“Seward is murdered!”</p> +<p>“Where is Grant?”</p> +<p>“Where is Stanton?”</p> +<p>“To arms! To arms!”</p> +<p>The peal of signal guns could now be heard, the roll +of drums and the hurried tramp of soldiers’ feet. They +marched none too soon. The mob had attacked the +stockade holding ten thousand unarmed Confederate +prisoners.</p> +<p>At the corner of the block in which the theatre stood +they seized a man who looked like a Southerner and +hung him to the lamp-post. Two heroic policemen +fought their way to his side and rescued him.</p> +<p>If the temper of the people during the war had been +convulsive, now it was insane—with one mad impulse +and one thought—vengeance! Horror, anger, terror, +uncertainty, each passion fanned the one animal instinct +into fury.</p> +<p>Through this awful night, with the lights still gleaming +as if to mock the celebration of victory, the crowds +swayed in impotent rage through the streets, while the +telegraph bore on the wings of lightning the awe-inspiring +news. Men caught it from the wires, and stood in silent +groups weeping, and their wrath against the fallen South +began to rise as the moaning of the sea under a coming +storm.</p> +<p>At dawn black clouds hung threatening on the eastern +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +horizon. As the sun rose, tingeing them for a moment +with scarlet and purple glory, Abraham Lincoln breathed +his last.</p> +<p>Even grim Stanton, the iron-hearted, stood by his bedside +and through blinding tears exclaimed:</p> +<p>“Now he belongs to the ages!”</p> +<p>The deed was done. The wheel of things had moved. +Vice-President Johnson took the oath of office, and men +hailed him Chief; but the seat of Empire had moved +from the White House to a little dark house on the Capitol +hill, where dwelt an old club-footed man, alone, attended +by a strange brown woman of sinister animal beauty and +the restless eyes of a leopardess.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_THE_FRENZY_OF_A_NATION' id='VII_THE_FRENZY_OF_A_NATION'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Frenzy of a Nation</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Phil hurried through the excited crowds with +Margaret and Elsie, left them at the hospital +door, and ran to the War Department to report +for duty. Already the tramp of regiments echoed down +every great avenue.</p> +<p>Even as he ran, his heart beat with a strange new +stroke when he recalled the look of appeal in Margaret’s +dark eyes as she nestled close to his side and clung to his +arm for protection. He remembered with a smile the +almost resistless impulse of the moment to slip his arm +around her and assure her of safety. If he had only +dared!</p> +<p>Elsie begged Mrs. Cameron and Margaret to go home +with her until the city was quiet.</p> +<p>“No,” said the mother. “I am not afraid. Death +has no terrors for me any longer. We will not leave +Ben a moment now, day or night. My soul is sick with +dread for what this awful tragedy will mean for the South! +I can’t think of my own safety. Can any one undo this +pardon now?” she asked anxiously.</p> +<p>“I am sure they cannot. The name on that paper +should be mightier dead than living.”</p> +<p>“Ah, but will it be? Do you know Mr. Johnson? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +Can he control Stanton? He seemed to be more powerful +than the President himself. What will that man do +now with those who fall into his hands.”</p> +<p>“He can do nothing with your son, rest assured.”</p> +<p>“I wish I knew it,” said the mother wistfully.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>A few moments after the President died on Saturday +morning, the rain began to pour in torrents. The flags +that flew from a thousand gilt-tipped peaks in celebration +of victory drooped to half-mast and hung weeping around +their staffs. The litter of burnt fireworks, limp and +crumbling, strewed the streets, and the tri-coloured +lanterns and balloons, hanging pathetically from their +wires, began to fall to pieces.</p> +<p>Never in all the history of man had such a conjunction +of events befallen a nation. From the heights of heaven’s +rejoicing to be suddenly hurled to the depths of hell in +piteous helpless grief! Noon to midnight without a +moment between. A pall of voiceless horror spread its +shadows over the land. Nothing short of an earthquake +or the sound of the archangel’s trumpet could have produced +the sense of helpless consternation, the black and +speechless despair. The people read their papers in tears. +The morning meal was untouched. By no other single +feat could death have carried such peculiar horror to +every home. Around this giant figure the heartstrings of +the people had been unconsciously knit. Even his political +enemies had come to love him.</p> +<p>Above all, in just this moment he was the incarnation of +the Triumphant Union on the altar of whose life every +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +house had laid the offering of its first-born. The tragedy +was stupefying—it was unthinkable—it was the mockery +of Fate!</p> +<p>Men walked the streets of the cities, dazed with the +sense of blind grief. Every note of music and rejoicing +became a dirge. All business ceased. Every wheel in +every mill stopped. The roar of the great city was hushed, +and Greed for a moment forgot his cunning.</p> +<p>The army only moved with swifter spring, tightening +its mighty grip on the throat of the bleeding prostrate +South.</p> +<p>As the day wore on its gloomy hours, and men began to +find speech, they spoke to each other at first in low tones +of Fate, of Life, of Death, of Immortality, of God—and +then as grief found words the measureless rage of baffled +strength grew slowly to madness.</p> +<p>On every breeze from the North came the deep-muttered +curses.</p> +<p>Easter Sunday dawned after the storm, clear and +beautiful in a flood of glorious sunshine. The churches +were thronged as never in their history. All had been +decorated for the double celebration of Easter and the +triumph of the Union. The preachers had prepared +sermons pitched in the highest anthem key of victory—victory +over death and the grave of Calvary, and victory +for the Nation opening a future of boundless glory. +The churches were labyrinths of flowers, and around +every pulpit and from every Gothic arch hung the red, +white, and blue flags of the Republic.</p> +<p>And now, as if to mock this gorgeous pageant, Death +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +had in the night flung a black mantle over every flag and +wound a strangling web of crape round every Easter +flower.</p> +<p>When the preachers faced the silent crowds before +them, looking into the faces of fathers, mothers, brothers, +sisters, and lovers whose dear ones had been slain in +battle or died in prison pens, the tide of grief and rage +rose and swept them from their feet! The Easter sermon +was laid aside. Fifty thousand Christian ministers, +stunned and crazed by insane passion, standing before the +altars of God, hurled into the broken hearts before them +the wildest cries of vengeance—cries incoherent, chaotic, +unreasoning, blind in their awful fury!</p> +<p>The pulpits of New York and Brooklyn led in the madness.</p> +<p>Next morning old Stoneman read his paper with a cold +smile playing about his big stern mouth, while his furrowed +brow flushed with triumph, as again and again he +exclaimed: “At last! At last!”</p> +<p>Even Beecher, who had just spoken his generous words +at Fort Sumter, declared:</p> +<p>“Never while time lasts, while heaven lasts, while hell +rocks and groans, will it be forgotten that Slavery, by its +minions, slew him, and slaying him made manifest its +whole nature. A man cannot be bred in its tainted air. +I shall find saints in hell sooner than I shall find true +manhood under its accursed influences. The breeding-ground +of such monsters must be utterly and forever +destroyed.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stephen Tyng said: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span></p> +<p>“The leaders of this rebellion deserve no pity from any +human being. Now let them go. Some other land must +be their home. Their property is justly forfeited to the +Nation they have attempted to destroy!”</p> +<p>In big black-faced type stood Dr. Charles S. Robinson’s +bitter words:</p> +<p>“This is the earliest reply which chivalry makes to our +forbearance. Talk to me no more of the same race, of +the same blood. He is no brother of mine and of no race +of mine who crowns the barbarism of treason with the +murder of an unarmed husband in the sight of his wife. +On the villains who led this rebellion let justice fall +swift and relentless. Death to every traitor of the South! +Pursue them one by one! Let every door be closed upon +them and judgment follow swift and implacable as death!”</p> +<p>Dr. Theodore Cuyler exclaimed:</p> +<p>“This is no time to talk of leniency and conciliation! +I say before God, make no terms with rebellion short of +extinction. Booth wielding the assassin’s weapon is +but the embodiment of the bowie-knife barbarism of a +slaveholding oligarchy.”</p> +<p>Dr. J. P. Thompson said:</p> +<p>“Blot every Southern State from the map. Strip every +rebel of property and citizenship, and send them into +exile beggared and infamous outcasts.”</p> +<p>Bishop Littlejohn, in his impassioned appeal, declared:</p> +<p>“The deed is worthy of the Southern cause which was +conceived in sin, brought forth in iniquity, and consummated +in crime. This murderous hand is the same hand +which lashed the slave’s bared back, struck down New +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +England’s senator for daring to speak, lifted the torch of +rebellion, slaughtered in cold blood its thousands, and +starved our helpless prisoners. Its end is not martyrdom, +but dishonour.”</p> +<p>Bishop Simpson said:</p> +<p>“Let every man who was a member of Congress and +aided this rebellion be brought to speedy punishment. Let +every officer educated at public expense, who turned his +sword against his country, be doomed to a traitor’s death!”</p> +<p>With the last note of this wild music lingering in the +old Commoner’s soul, he sat as if dreaming, laughed +cynically, turned to the brown woman and said:</p> +<p>“My speeches have not been lost after all. Prepare +dinner for six. My cabinet will meet here to-night.”</p> +<p>While the press was reëchoing these sermons, gathering +strength as they were caught and repeated in every +town, village, and hamlet in the North, the funeral procession +started westward. It passed in grandeur through +the great cities on its journey of one thousand six hundred +miles to the tomb. By day, by night, by dawn, by sunlight, +by twilight, and lit by solemn torches, millions of +silent men and women looked on his dead face. Around +the person of this tall, lonely man, rugged, yet full of +sombre dignity and spiritual beauty, the thoughts, hopes, +dreams, and ideals of the people had gathered in four +years of agony and death, until they had come to feel +their own hearts beat in his breast and their own life +throb in his life. The assassin’s bullet had crashed into +their own brains, and torn their souls and bodies asunder.</p> +<p>The masses were swept from their moorings, and reason +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +destroyed. All historic perspective was lost. Our first +assassination, there was no precedent for comparison. It +had been over two hundred years in the world’s history +since the last murder of a great ruler, when William of +Orange fell.</p> +<p>On the day set for the public funeral twenty million +people bowed at the same hour.</p> +<p>When the procession reached New York the streets +were lined with a million people. Not a sound could be +heard save the tramp of soldiers’ feet and the muffled +cry of the dirge. Though on every foot of earth stood +a human being, the silence of the desert and of death! +The Nation’s living heroes rode in that procession, and +passed without a sign from the people.</p> +<p>Four years ago he drove down Broadway as President-elect, +unnoticed and with soldiers in disguise attending +him lest the mob should stone him.</p> +<p>To-day, at the mention of his name in the churches, the +preachers’ voices in prayer wavered and broke into silence +while strong men among the crowd burst into sobs. +Flags flew at half-mast from their steeples, and their bells +tolled in grief.</p> +<p>Every house that flew but yesterday its banner of victory +was shrouded in mourning. The flags and pennants +of a thousand ships in the harbour drooped at half-mast, +and from every staff in the city streamed across the sky the +black mists of crape like strange meteors in the troubled +heavens.</p> +<p>For three days every theatre, school, court, bank, shop, +and mill was closed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span></p> +<p>And with muttered curses men looked Southward.</p> +<p>Across Broadway the cortčge passed under a huge +transparency on which appeared the words:</p> +<div class='ce' style=' font-variant:small-caps;'> +<p>“A Nation bowed in grief</p> +<p>Will rise in might to exterminate</p> +<p>The leaders of this accursed Rebellion.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Farther along swung the black-draped banner:</p> +<div class='ce' style=' font-variant:small-caps;'> +<p>“Justice to Traitors</p> +<p>is</p> +<p>Mercy to the People.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Another flapped its grim message:</p> +<div class='ce' style=' font-variant:small-caps;'> +<p>“The Barbarism of Slavery.</p> +<p>Can Barbarism go Further?”</p> +</div> + +<p>Across the Ninth Regiment Armoury, in gigantic letters, +were the words:</p> +<div class='ce' style=' font-variant:small-caps;'> +<p>“Time for Weeping</p> +<p>But Vengeance is not Sleeping!”</p> +</div> + +<p>When the procession reached Buffalo, the house of +Millard Fillmore was mobbed because the ex-President, +stricken on a bed of illness, had neglected to drape his +house in mourning. The procession passed to Springfield +through miles of bowed heads dumb with grief. The +plough stopped in the furrow, the smith dropped his hammer, +the carpenter his plane, the merchant closed his +door, the clink of coin ceased, and over all hung brooding +silence with low-muttered curses, fierce and incoherent. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span></p> +<p>No man who walked the earth ever passed to his tomb +through such a storm of human tears. The pageants of +Alexander, Cćsar, and Wellington were tinsel to this. +Nor did the spirit of Napoleon, the Corsican Lieutenant +of Artillery who once presided over a congress of kings +whom he had conquered, look down on its like even in +France.</p> +<p>And now that its pomp was done and its memory but +bitterness and ashes, but one man knew exactly what he +wanted and what he meant to do. Others were stunned +by the blow. But the cold eyes of the Great Commoner, +leader of leaders, sparkled, and his grim lips +smiled. From him not a word of praise or fawning +sorrow for the dead. Whatever he might be, he was +not a liar: when he hated, he hated.</p> +<p>The drooping flags, the city’s black shrouds, processions, +torches, silent seas of faces and bared heads, the +dirges and the bells, the dim-lit churches, wailing organs, +fierce invectives from the altar, and the perfume of flowers +piled in heaps by silent hearts—to all these was he heir.</p> +<p>And more—the fierce unwritten, unspoken, and unspeakable +horrors of the war itself, its passions, its +cruelties, its hideous crimes and sufferings, the wailing of +its women, the graves of its men—all these now were his.</p> +<p>The new President bowed to the storm. In one breath +he promised to fulfil the plans of Lincoln. In the next +he, too, breathed threats of vengeance.</p> +<p>The edict went forth for the arrest of General Lee.</p> +<p>Would Grant, the Commanding General of the Army, +dare protest? There were those who said that if Lee +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +were arrested and Grant’s plighted word at Appomattox +smirched, the silent soldier would not only protest, but +draw his sword, if need be, to defend his honour and +the honour of the Nation. Yet—would he dare? It +remained to be seen.</p> +<p>The jails were now packed with Southern men, taken +unarmed from their homes. The old Capitol Prison was +full, and every cell of every grated building in the city, +and they were filling the rooms of the Capitol itself.</p> +<p>Margaret, hurrying from the market in the early morning +with her flowers, was startled to find her mother +bowed in anguish over a paragraph in the morning paper.</p> +<p>She rose and handed it to the daughter, who read:</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>“Dr. Richard Cameron, of South Carolina, arrived in +Washington and was placed in jail last night, charged with +complicity in the murder of President Lincoln. It was +discovered that Jeff Davis spent the night at his home in +Piedmont, under the pretence of needing medical attention. +Beyond all doubt, Booth, the assassin, merely acted under +orders from the Arch Traitor. May the gallows have a rich +and early harvest!”</p> +</div> +<p>Margaret tremblingly wound her arms around her +mother’s neck. No words broke the pitiful silence—only +blinding tears and broken sobs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></p> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>Book II—The Revolution</p> +</div> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_THE_FIRST_LADY_OF_THE_LAND' id='I_THE_FIRST_LADY_OF_THE_LAND'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The First Lady of the Land</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>The little house on the Capitol hill now became +the centre of fevered activity. This house, +selected by its grim master to become the +executive mansion of the Nation, was perhaps the most +modest structure ever chosen for such high uses.</p> +<p>It stood, a small, two-story brick building, in an unpretentious +street. Seven windows opened on the front with +black solid-panelled shutters. The front parlour was +scantily furnished. A huge mirror covered one wall, and +on the other hung a life-size oil portrait of Stoneman, +and between the windows were a portrait of Washington +Irving and a picture of a nun. Among his many charities +he had always given liberally to an orphanage +conducted by a Roman Catholic sisterhood.</p> +<p>The back parlour, whose single window looked out on a +small garden, he had fitted up as a library, with leather-upholstered +furniture, a large desk and table, and scattered +on the mantel and about its walls were the photographs +of his personal friends and a few costly prints. +This room he used as his executive office, and no person +was allowed to enter it without first stating his business or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +presenting a petition to the tawny brown woman with +restless eyes who sat in state in the front parlour and received +his visitors. The books in their cases gave evidence +of little use for many years, although their character indicated +the tastes of a man of culture. His Pliny, Cćsar, +Cicero, Tacitus, Sophocles, and Homer had evidently +been read by a man who knew their beauties and loved +them for their own sake.</p> +<p>This house was now the Mecca of the party in power +and the storm-centre of the forces destined to shape the +Nation’s life. Senators, representatives, politicians of +low and high degree, artists, correspondents, foreign ministers, +and cabinet officers hurried to acknowledge their +fealty to the uncrowned king, and hail the strange brown +woman who held the keys of his house as the first lady of +the land.</p> +<p>When Charles Sumner called, a curious thing happened. +By a code agreed on between them, Lydia Brown touched +an electric signal which informed the old Commoner of +his appearance. Stoneman hobbled to the folding-doors +and watched through the slight opening the manner in +which the icy senator greeted the negress whom he was +compelled to meet thus as his social equal, though she was +always particular to pose as the superior of all who bowed +the knee to the old man whose house she kept.</p> +<p>Sumner at this time was supposed to be the most powerful +man in Congress. It was a harmless fiction which +pleased him, and at which Stoneman loved to laugh.</p> +<p>The senator from Massachusetts had just made a +speech in Boston expounding the “Equality of Man,” yet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +he could not endure personal contact with a negro. He +would go secretly miles out of the way to avoid it.</p> +<p>Stoneman watched him slowly and daintily approach +this negress and touch her jewelled hand gingerly with +the tips of his classic fingers as if she were a toad. Convulsed, +he scrambled back to his desk and hugged himself +while he listened to the flow of Lydia’s condescending +patronage in the next room.</p> +<p>“This world’s too good a thing to lose!” he chuckled. +“I think I’ll live always.”</p> +<p>When Sumner left, the hour for dinner had arrived, +and by special invitation two men dined with him.</p> +<p>On his right sat an army officer who had been dismissed +from the service, a victim of the mania for gambling. His +ruddy face, iron-gray hair, and jovial mien indicated that +he enjoyed life in spite of troubles.</p> +<p>There were no clubs in Washington at this time except +the regular gambling-houses, of which there were more +than one hundred in full blast.</p> +<p>Stoneman was himself a gambler, and spent a part of +almost every night at Hall & Pemberton’s Faro Palace +on Pennsylvania Avenue, a place noted for its famous +restaurant. It was here that he met Colonel Howle and +learned to like him. He was a man of talent, cool and +audacious, and a liar of such singular fluency that he +quite captivated the old Commoner’s imagination.</p> +<p>“Upon my soul, Howle,” he declared soon after they +met, “you made the mistake of your life going into the +army. You’re a born politician. You’re what I call a +natural liar, just as a horse is a pacer, a dog a setter. You +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +lie without effort, with an ease and grace that excels all +art. Had you gone into politics, you could easily have +been Secretary of State, to say nothing of the vice-presidency. +I would say President but for the fact that +men of the highest genius never attain it.”</p> +<p>From that moment Colonel Howle had become his +charmed henchman. Stoneman owned this man body +and soul, not merely because he had befriended him when +he was in trouble and friendless, but because the colonel +recognized the power of the leader’s daring spirit and +revolutionary genius.</p> +<p>On his left sat a negro of perhaps forty years, a man of +charming features for a mulatto, who had evidently inherited +the full physical characteristics of the Aryan race, +while his dark yellowish eyes beneath his heavy brows +glowed with the brightness of the African jungle. It +was impossible to look at his superb face, with its large, +finely chiselled lips and massive nose, his big neck and +broad shoulders, and watch his eyes gleam beneath the +projecting forehead, without seeing pictures of the primeval +forest. “The head of a Cćsar and the eyes of +the jungle” was the phrase coined by an artist who +painted his portrait.</p> +<p>His hair was black and glossy and stood in dishevelled +profusion on his head between a kink and a curl. He was +an orator of great power, and stirred a negro audience as +by magic.</p> +<p>Lydia Brown had called Stoneman’s attention to this +man, Silas Lynch, and induced the statesman to send him +to college. He had graduated with credit and had entered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +the Methodist ministry. In his preaching to the freedmen +he had already become a marked man. No house could +hold his audiences.</p> +<p>As he stepped briskly into the dining-room and passed +the brown woman, a close observer might have seen him +suddenly press her hand and caught her sly answering +smile, but the old man waiting at the head of the table +saw nothing.</p> +<p>The woman took her seat opposite Stoneman and presided +over this curious group with the easy assurance of +conscious power. Whatever her real position, she knew +how to play the role she had chosen to assume.</p> +<p>No more curious or sinister figure ever cast a shadow +across the history of a great nation than did this mulatto +woman in the most corrupt hour of American life. The +grim old man who looked into her sleek tawny face and +followed her catlike eyes was steadily gripping the Nation +by the throat. Did he aim to make this woman the +arbiter of its social life, and her ethics the limit of its +moral laws?</p> +<p>Even the white satellite who sat opposite Lynch flushed +for a moment as the thought flashed through his brain.</p> +<p>The old cynic, who alone knew his real purpose, was in +his most genial mood to-night, and the grim lines of his +powerful face relaxed into something like a smile as they +ate and chatted and told good stories.</p> +<p>Lynch watched him with keen interest. He knew his +history and character, and had built on his genius a +brilliant scheme of life.</p> +<p>This man who meant to become the dictator of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +Republic had come from the humblest early conditions. +His father was a worthless character, from whom he had +learned the trade of a shoemaker, but his mother, a +woman of vigorous intellect and indomitable will, had +succeeded in giving her lame boy a college education. He +had early sworn to be a man of wealth, and to this purpose +he had throttled the dreams and ideals of a wayward +imagination.</p> +<p>His hope of great wealth had not been realized. His +iron mills in Pennsylvania had been destroyed by Lee’s +army. He had developed the habit of gambling, which +brought its train of extravagant habits, tastes, and inevitable +debts. In his vigorous manhood, in spite of his +lameness, he had kept a pack of hounds and a stable of +fine horses. He had used his skill in shoemaking to construct +a set of stirrups to fit his lame feet, and had become +an expert hunter to hounds.</p> +<p>One thing he never neglected—to be in his seat in the +House of Representatives and wear its royal crown of +leadership, sick or well, day or night. The love of power +was the breath of his nostrils, and his ambitions had at +one time been boundless. His enormous power to-day +was due to the fact that he had given up all hope of office +beyond the robes of the king of his party. He had been +offered a cabinet position by the elder Harrison and for +some reason it had been withdrawn. He had been promised +a place in Lincoln’s cabinet, but some mysterious +power had snatched it away. He was the one great man +who had now no ambition for which to trim and fawn +and lie, and for the very reason that he had abolished +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +himself he was the most powerful leader who ever walked +the halls of Congress.</p> +<p>His contempt for public opinion was boundless. Bold, +original, scornful of advice, of all the men who ever lived +in our history he was the one man born to rule in the +chaos which followed the assassination of the chief +magistrate.</p> +<p>Audacity was stamped in every line of his magnificent +head. His choicest curses were for the cowards of his +own party before whose blanched faces he shouted out +the hidden things until they sank back in helpless silence +and dismay. His speech was curt, his humour sardonic, +his wit biting, cruel, and coarse.</p> +<p>The incarnate soul of revolution, he despised convention +and ridiculed respectability.</p> +<p>There was but one weak spot in his armour—and the +world never suspected it: the consuming passion with +which he loved his two children. This was the side of his +nature he had hidden from the eyes of man. A refined +egotism, this passion, perhaps—for he meant to live his +own life over in them—yet it was the one utterly human +and lovable thing about him. And if his public policy was +one of stupendous avarice, this dream of millions of confiscated +wealth he meant to seize, it was not for himself +but for his children.</p> +<p>As he looked at Howle and Lynch seated in his library +after dinner, with his great plans seething in his brain, +his eyes were flashing, intense, and fiery, yet without +colour—simply two centres of cold light.</p> +<p>“Gentlemen,” he said at length. “I am going to ask +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +you to undertake for the Government, the Nation, and +yourselves a dangerous and important mission. I say +yourselves, because, in spite of all our beautiful lies, self +is the centre of all human action. Mr. Lincoln has fortunately +gone to his reward—fortunately for him and for +his country. His death was necessary to save his life. +He was a useful man living, more useful dead. Our +party has lost its first President, but gained a god—why +mourn?”</p> +<p>“We will recover from our grief,” said Howle.</p> +<p>The old man went on, ignoring the interruption:</p> +<p>“Things have somehow come my way. I am almost +persuaded late in life that the gods love me. The insane +fury of the North against the South for a crime which they +were the last people on earth to dream of committing is, +of course, a power to be used—but with caution. The first +execution of a Southern leader on such an idiotic charge +would produce a revolution of sentiment. The people +are an aggregation of hysterical fools.”</p> +<p>“I thought you favoured the execution of the leaders +of the rebellion?” said Lynch with surprise.</p> +<p>“I did, but it is too late. Had they been tried by drum-head +court-martial and shot dead red-handed as they +stood on the field in their uniforms, all would have been +well. Now sentiment is too strong. Grant showed his +teeth to Stanton and he backed down from Lee’s arrest. +Sherman refused to shake hands with Stanton on the +grandstand the day his army passed in review, and it’s a +wonder he didn’t knock him down. Sherman was denounced +as a renegade and traitor for giving Joseph E. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +Johnston the terms Lincoln ordered him to give. Lincoln +dead, his terms are treason! Yet had he lived, we should +have been called upon to applaud his mercy and patriotism. +How can a man live in this world and keep his +face straight?”</p> +<p>“I believe God permitted Mr. Lincoln’s death to give +the great Commoner, the Leader of Leaders, the right of +way,” cried Lynch with enthusiasm.</p> +<p>The old man smiled. With all his fierce spirit he +was as susceptible to flattery as a woman—far more so +than the sleek brown woman who carried the keys of his +house.</p> +<p>“The man at the other end of the avenue, who pretends +to be President, in reality an alien of the conquered province +of Tennessee, is pressing Lincoln’s plan of ‘restoring’ +the Union. He has organized State governments in the +South, and their senators and representatives will appear +at the Capitol in December for admission to Congress. +He thinks they will enter——”</p> +<p>The old man broke into a low laugh and rubbed his +hands.</p> +<p>“My full plans are not for discussion at this juncture. +Suffice it to say, I mean to secure the future of our party +and the safety of this nation. The one thing on which +the success of my plan absolutely depends is the confiscation +of the millions of acres of land owned by the white +people of the South and its division among the negroes +and those who fought and suffered in this war——”</p> +<p>The old Commoner paused, pursed his lips, and fumbled +his hands a moment, the nostrils of his eagle-beaked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +nose breathing rapacity, sensuality throbbing in his +massive jaws, and despotism frowning from his heavy +brows.</p> +<p>“Stanton will probably add to the hilarity of nations, +and amuse himself by hanging a few rebels,” he went on, +“but we will address ourselves to serious work. All men +have their price, including the present company, with due +apologies to the speaker——”</p> +<p>Howle’s eyes danced, and he licked his lips.</p> +<p>“If I haven’t suffered in this war, who has?”</p> +<p>“Your reward will not be in accordance with your +sufferings. It will be based on the efficiency with which +you obey my orders. Read that——”</p> +<p>He handed to him a piece of paper on which he had +scrawled his secret instructions.</p> +<p>Another he gave to Lynch.</p> +<p>“Hand them back to me when you read them, and I +will burn them. These instructions are not to pass the lips +of any man until the time is ripe—four bare walls are not +to hear them whispered.”</p> +<p>Both men handed to the leader the slips of paper +simultaneously.</p> +<p>“Are we agreed, gentlemen?”</p> +<p>“Perfectly,” answered Howle.</p> +<p>“Your word is law to me, sir,” said Lynch.</p> +<p>“Then you will draw on me personally for your expenses, +and leave for the South within forty-eight hours. +I wish your reports delivered to me two weeks before the +meeting of Congress.”</p> +<p>As Lynch passed through the hall on his way to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +door, the brown woman bade him good-night and pressed +into his hand a letter.</p> +<p>As his yellow fingers closed on the missive, his eyes +flashed for a moment with catlike humour.</p> +<p>The woman’s face wore the mask of a sphinx.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_SWEETHEARTS' id='II_SWEETHEARTS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Sweethearts</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>When the first shock of horror at her husband’s +peril passed, it left a strange new light in Mrs. +Cameron’s eyes.</p> +<p>The heritage of centuries of heroic blood from the martyrs +of old Scotland began to flash its inspiration from the +past. Her heart beat with the unconscious life of men +and women who had stood in the stocks, and walked in +chains to the stake with songs on their lips.</p> +<p>The threat against the life of Doctor Cameron had not +only stirred her martyr blood: it had roused the latent +heroism of a beautiful girlhood. To her he had ever +been the lover and the undimmed hero of her girlish +dreams. She spent whole hours locked in her room +alone. Margaret knew that she was on her knees. She +always came forth with shining face and with soft words +on her lips.</p> +<p>She struggled for two months in vain efforts to obtain a +single interview with him, or to obtain a copy of the +charges. Doctor Cameron had been placed in the old +Capitol Prison, already crowded to the utmost. He was +in delicate health, and so ill when she had left home he +could not accompany her to Richmond.</p> +<p>Not a written or spoken word was allowed to pass +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +those prison doors. She could communicate with him +only through the officers in charge. Every message from +him was the same. “I love you always. Do not worry. +Go home the moment you can leave Ben. I fear the +worst at Piedmont.”</p> +<p>When he had sent this message, he would sit down and +write the truth in a little diary he kept:</p> +<p>“Another day of anguish. How long, O Lord? Just +one touch of her hand, one last pressure of her lips, and I +am content. I have no desire to live—I am tired.”</p> +<p>The officers repeated the verbal messages, but they +made no impression on Mrs. Cameron. By a mental +telepathy which had always linked her life with his her +soul had passed those prison bars. If he had written the +pitiful record with a dagger’s point on her heart, she +could not have felt it more keenly.</p> +<p>At times overwhelmed, she lay prostrate and sobbed +in half-articulate cries. And then from the silence and +mystery of the spirit world in which she felt the beat of +the heart of Eternal Love would come again the strange +peace that passeth understanding. She would rise and +go forth to her task with a smile.</p> +<p>In July she saw Mrs. Surratt taken from this old +Capitol Prison to be hung with Payne, Herold, and Atzerodt +for complicity in the assassination. The military +commission before whom this farce of justice was enacted, +suspicious of the testimony of the perjured wretches +who had sworn her life away, had filed a memorandum +with their verdict asking the President for mercy.</p> +<p>President Johnson never saw this memorandum. It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +was secretly removed in the War Department, and only +replaced after he had signed the death warrant.</p> +<p>In vain Annie Surratt, the weeping daughter, flung +herself on the steps of the White House on the fatal day, +begging and praying to see the President. She could +not believe they would allow her mother to be murdered +in the face of a recommendation of mercy. The fatal +hour struck at last, and the girl left the White House with +set eyes and blanched face, muttering incoherent curses.</p> +<p>The Chief Magistrate sat within, unconscious of the +hideous tragedy that was being enacted in his name. +When he discovered the infamy by which he had been +made the executioner of an innocent woman, he made his +first demand that Edwin M. Stanton resign from his +cabinet as Secretary of War. And for the first time in +the history of America, a cabinet officer waived the question +of honour and refused to resign.</p> +<p>With a shudder and blush of shame, strong men saw +that day the executioner gather the ropes tightly three +times around the dress of an innocent American mother +and bind her ankles with cords. She fainted and sank +backward upon the attendants, the poor limbs yielding +at last to the mortal terror of death. But they propped +her up and sprung the fatal trap.</p> +<p>A feeling of uncertainty and horror crept over the city +and the Nation, as rumours of the strange doings of the +“Bureau of Military Justice,” with its secret factory of +testimony and powers of tampering with verdicts, began +to find their way in whispered stories among the people.</p> +<p>Public opinion, however, had as yet no power of adjustment. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +It was an hour of lapse to tribal insanity. +Things had gone wrong. The demand for a scapegoat, +blind, savage, and unreasoning, had not spent itself. The +Government could do anything as yet, and the people +would applaud.</p> +<p>Mrs. Cameron had tried in vain to gain a hearing before +the President. Each time she was directed to apply +to Mr. Stanton. She refused to attempt to see him, and +again turned to Elsie for help. She had learned that the +same witnesses who had testified against Mrs. Surratt +were being used to convict Doctor Cameron, and her +heart was sick with fear.</p> +<p>“Ask your father,” she pleaded, “to write President +Johnson a letter in my behalf. Whatever his politics, +he can’t be <i>your</i> father and not be good at heart.”</p> +<p>Elsie paled for a moment. It was the one request she +had dreaded. She thought of her father and Stanton +with dread. How far he was supporting the Secretary +of War she could only vaguely guess. He rarely spoke of +politics to her, much as he loved her.</p> +<p>“I’ll try, Mrs. Cameron,” she faltered. “My father +is in town to-day and takes dinner with us before he leaves +for Pennsylvania to-night. I’ll go at once.”</p> +<p>With fear, and yet boldly, she went straight home to +present her request. She knew he was a man who +never cherished small resentments, however cruel and +implacable might be his public policies. And yet she +dreaded to put it to the test.</p> +<p>“Father, I’ve a very important request to make of +you,” she said gravely. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span></p> +<p>“Very well, my child, you need not be so solemn. What +is it?”</p> +<p>“I’ve some friends in great distress—Mrs. Cameron, of +South Carolina, and her daughter Margaret.”</p> +<p>“Friends of yours?” he asked with an incredulous +smile. “Where on earth did you find them?”</p> +<p>“In the hospital, of course. Mrs. Cameron is not allowed +to see her husband, who has been here in jail for +over two months. He cannot write to her, nor can he +receive a letter from her. He is on trial for his life, is ill +and helpless, and is not allowed to know the charges +against him, while hired witnesses and detectives have +broken open his house, searched his papers, and are ransacking +heaven and earth to convict him of a crime of +which he never dreamed. It’s a shame. You don’t approve +of such things, I know?”</p> +<p>“What’s the use of my expressing an opinion when you +have already settled it?” he answered good-humouredly.</p> +<p>“You <i>don’t</i> approve of such injustice?”</p> +<p>“Certainly not, my child. Stanton’s frantic efforts to +hang a lot of prominent Southern men for complicity in +Booth’s crime is sheer insanity. Nobody who has any +sense believes them guilty. As a politician I use popular +clamour for my purposes, but I am not an idiot. When +I go gunning, I never use a popgun or hunt small game.”</p> +<p>“Then you will write the President a letter asking that +they be allowed to see Doctor Cameron?”</p> +<p>The old man frowned.</p> +<p>“Think, father, if you were in jail and friendless, and I +were trying to see you——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span></p> +<p>“Tut, tut, my dear, it’s not that I am unwilling—I was +only thinking of the unconscious humour of <i>my</i> making a +request of the man who at present accidentally occupies +the White House. Of all the men on earth, this alien +from the province of Tennessee! But I’ll do it for you. +When did you ever know me to deny my help to a weak +man or woman in distress?”</p> +<p>“Never, father. I was sure you would do it,” she +answered warmly.</p> +<p>He wrote the letter at once and handed it to her.</p> +<p>She bent and kissed him.</p> +<p>“I can’t tell you how glad I am to know that you have +no part in such injustice.”</p> +<p>“You should not have believed me such a fool, but I’ll +forgive you for the kiss. Run now with this letter to your +rebel friends, you little traitor! Wait a minute——”</p> +<p>He shuffled to his feet, placed his hand tenderly on her +head, and stooped and kissed the shining hair.</p> +<p>“I wonder if you know how I love you? How I’ve +dreamed of your future? I may not see you every day +as I wish; I’m absorbed in great affairs. But more and +more I think of you and Phil. I’ll have a big surprise +for you both some day.”</p> +<p>“Your love is all I ask,” she answered simply.</p> +<p>Within an hour, Mrs. Cameron found herself before +the new President. The letter had opened the door as +by magic. She poured out her story with impetuous +eloquence while Mr. Johnson listened in uneasy silence. +His ruddy face, his hesitating manner, and restless eyes +were in striking contrast to the conscious power of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +tall dark man who had listened so tenderly and sympathetically +to her story of Ben but a few weeks before.</p> +<p>The President asked:</p> +<p>“Have you seen Mr. Stanton?”</p> +<p>“I have seen him once,” she cried with sudden passion. +“It is enough. If that man were God on His throne, I +would swear allegiance to the devil and fight him!”</p> +<p>The President lifted his eyebrows and his lips twitched +with a smile:</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t say that your spirits are exactly drooping! +I’d like to be near and hear you make that remark to the +distinguished Secretary of War.”</p> +<p>“Will you grant my prayer?” she pleaded.</p> +<p>“I will consider the matter,” he promised evasively.</p> +<p>Mrs. Cameron’s heart sank.</p> +<p>“Mr. President,” she cried bitterly, “I have felt sure +that I had but to see you face to face and you could not +deny me. Surely it is but justice that he have the right +to see his loved ones, to consult with counsel, to know the +charges against him, and defend his life when attacked in +his poverty and ruin by all the power of a mighty government? +He is feeble and broken in health and suffering +from wounds received carrying the flag of the Union to +victory in Mexico. Whatever his errors of judgment in +this war, it is a shame that a Nation for which he once +bared his breast in battle should treat him as an outlaw +without a trial.”</p> +<p>“You must remember, madam,” interrupted the +President, “that these are extraordinary times, and that +popular clamour, however unjust, will make itself felt +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +and must be heeded by those in power. I am sorry for +you, and I trust it may be possible for me to grant your +request.”</p> +<p>“But I wish it now,” she urged. “He sends me word +I must go home. I can’t leave without seeing him. I +will die first.”</p> +<p>She drew closer and continued in throbbing tones:</p> +<p>“Mr. President, you are a native Carolinian—you are +of Scotch Covenanter blood. You are of my own people +of the great past, whose tears and sufferings are our common +glory and birthright. Come, you must hear me—I +will take no denial. Give me now the order to see my +husband!”</p> +<p>The President hesitated, struggling with deep emotion, +called his secretary, and gave the order.</p> +<p>As she hurried away with Elsie, who insisted on accompanying +her to the jail door, the girl said:</p> +<p>“Mrs. Cameron, I fear you are without money. You +must let me help you until you can return it.”</p> +<p>“You are the dearest little heart I’ve met in all the +world, I think sometimes,” said the older woman, looking +at her tenderly. “I wonder how I can ever pay you for +half you’ve done already.”</p> +<p>“The doing of it has been its own reward,” was the +soft reply. “May I help you?”</p> +<p>“If I need it, yes. But I trust it will not be necessary. +I still have a little store of gold Doctor Cameron was wise +enough to hoard during the war. I brought half of it +with me when I left home, and we buried the rest. I hope +to find it on my return. And if we can save the twenty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +bales of cotton we have hidden we shall be relieved of +want.”</p> +<p>“I’m ashamed of my country when I think of such +ignoble methods as have been used against Doctor +Cameron. My father is indignant, too.”</p> +<p>The last sentence Elsie spoke with eager girlish +pride.</p> +<p>“I am very grateful to your father for his letter. I am +sorry he has left the city before I could meet and thank +him personally. You must tell him for me.”</p> +<p>At the jail the order of the President was not honoured +for three hours, and Mrs. Cameron paced the street in +angry impatience at first and then in dull despair.</p> +<p>“Do you think that man Stanton would dare defy the +President?” she asked anxiously.</p> +<p>“No,” said Elsie, “but he is delaying as long as possible +as an act of petty tyranny.”</p> +<p>At last the messenger arrived from the War Department +permitting an order of the Chief Magistrate of the +nation, the Commander-in-Chief of its Army and Navy, +to be executed.</p> +<p>The grated door swung on its heavy hinges, and the +wife and mother lay sobbing in the arms of the lover of +her youth.</p> +<p>For two hours they poured into each other’s hearts the +story of their sorrows and struggles during the six fateful +months that had passed. When she would return from +every theme back to his danger, he would laugh her fears +to scorn.</p> +<p>“Nonsense, my dear, I’m as innocent as a babe. Mr. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +Davis was suffering from erysipelas, and I kept him in +my house that night to relieve his pain. It will all blow +over. I’m happy now that I have seen you. Ben will +be up in a few days. You must return at once. You +have no idea of the wild chaos at home. I left Jake in +charge. I have implicit faith in him, but there’s no telling +what may happen. I will not spend another moment +in peace until you go.”</p> +<p>The proud old man spoke of his own danger with easy +assurance. He was absolutely certain, since the day of +Mrs. Surratt’s execution, that he would be railroaded to +the gallows by the same methods. He had long looked +on the end with indifference, and had ceased to desire to +live except to see his loved ones again.</p> +<p>In vain she warned him of danger.</p> +<p>“My peril is nothing, my love,” he answered quietly. +“At home, the horrors of a servile reign of terror have become +a reality. These prison walls do not interest me. +My heart is with our stricken people. You must go home. +Our neighbour, Mr. Lenoir, is slowly dying. His wife will +always be a child. Little Marion is older and more self-reliant. +I feel as if they are our own children. There +are so many who need us. They have always looked +to me for guidance and help. You can do more for them +than any one else. My calling is to heal others. You +have always helped me. Do now as I ask you.”</p> +<p>At last she consented to leave for Piedmont on the following +day, and he smiled.</p> +<p>“Kiss Ben and Margaret for me and tell them that I’ll +be with them soon,” he said cheerily. He meant in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +spirit, not the flesh. Not the faintest hope of life even +flickered in his mind.</p> +<p>In the last farewell embrace a faint tremor of the soul, +half sigh, half groan, escaped his lips, and he drew her +again to his breast, whispering:</p> +<p>“Always my sweetheart, good, beautiful, brave, and +true!”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_THE_JOY_OF_LIVING' id='III_THE_JOY_OF_LIVING'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Joy of Living</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Within two weeks after the departure of Mrs. +Cameron and Margaret, the wounded soldier +had left the hospital with Elsie’s hand resting +on his arm and her keen eyes watching his faltering steps. +She had promised Margaret to take her place until he +was strong again. She was afraid to ask herself the +meaning of the songs that were welling up from the depth +of her own soul. She told herself again and again that +she was fulfilling her ideal of unselfish human service.</p> +<p>Ben’s recovery was rapid, and he soon began to give +evidence of his boundless joy in the mere fact of life.</p> +<p>He utterly refused to believe his father in danger.</p> +<p>“What, my dad a conspirator, an assassin!” he cried, +with a laugh. “Why, he wouldn’t kill a flea without +apologising to it. And as for plots and dark secrets, +he never had a secret in his life and couldn’t keep one +if he had it. My mother keeps all the family secrets. +Crime couldn’t stick to him any more than dirty water to +a duck’s back!”</p> +<p>“But we must secure his release on parole, that he may +defend himself.”</p> +<p>“Of course. But we won’t cross any bridges till we +come to them. I never saw things so bad they couldn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +be worse. Just think what I’ve been through. The +war’s over. Don’t worry.”</p> +<p>He looked at her tenderly.</p> +<p>“Get that banjo and play ‘Get out of the Wilderness!’”</p> +<p>His spirit was contagious and his good humour resistless. +Elsie spent the days of his convalescence in an unconscious +glow of pleasure in his companionship. His +handsome boyish face, his bearing, his whole personality, +invited frankness and intimacy. It was a divine gift, this +magnetism, the subtle meeting of quick intelligence, tact, +and sympathy. His voice was tender and penetrating, +with soft caresses in its tones. His vision of life was large +and generous, with a splendid carelessness about little +things that didn’t count. Each day Elsie saw new and +striking traits of his character which drew her.</p> +<p>“What will we do if Stanton arrests you one of these +fine days?” she asked him one day.</p> +<p>“Afraid they’ll nab me for something?” he exclaimed. +“Well, that is a joke. Don’t you worry. The Yankees +know who to fool with. I licked ’em too many times for +them to bother me any more.”</p> +<p>“I was under the impression that you got licked,” Elsie +observed.</p> +<p>“Don’t you believe it. We wore ourselves out whipping +the other fellows.”</p> +<p>Elsie smiled, took up the banjo, and asked him to sing +while she played.</p> +<p>She had no idea that he could sing, yet to her surprise +he sang his camp songs boldly, tenderly, and with deep, +expressive feeling. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span></p> +<p>As the girl listened, the memory of the horrible hours of +suspense she had spent with his mother when his unconscious +life hung on a thread came trooping back into her +heart and a tear dimmed her eyes.</p> +<p>And he began to look at her with a new wonder and joy +slowly growing in his soul.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_HIDDEN_TREASURE' id='IV_HIDDEN_TREASURE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Hidden Treasure</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Ben had spent a month of vain effort to secure his +father’s release. He had succeeded in obtaining +for him a removal to more comfortable quarters, +books to read, and the privilege of a daily walk under +guard and parole. The doctor’s genial temper, the wide +range of his knowledge, the charm of his personality, and +his heroism in suffering had captivated the surgeons who +attended him and made friends of every jailer and guard.</p> +<p>Elsie was now using all her woman’s wit to secure a +copy of the charges against him as formulated by the +Judge Advocate General, who, in defiance of civil law, +still claimed control of these cases.</p> +<p>To the boy’s sanguine temperament the whole proceeding +had been a huge farce from the beginning, and at the +last interview with his father he had literally laughed him +into good humour.</p> +<p>“Look here, pa,” he cried. “I believe you’re trying +to slip off and leave us in this mess. It’s not fair. It’s +easy to die.”</p> +<p>“Who said I was going to die?”</p> +<p>“I heard you were trying to crawl out that way.”</p> +<p>“Well, it’s a mistake. I’m going to live just for the +fun of disappointing my enemies and to keep you company. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +But you’d better get hold of a copy of these +charges against me—if you don’t want me to escape.”</p> +<p>“It’s a funny world if a man can be condemned to +death without any information on the subject.”</p> +<p>“My son, we are now in the hands of the revolutionists, +army sutlers, contractors, and adventurers. The Nation +will touch the lowest tide-mud of its degradation within +the next few years. No man can predict the end.”</p> +<p>“Oh, go ’long!” said Ben. “You’ve got jail cobwebs in +your eyes.”</p> +<p>“I’m depending on you.”</p> +<p>“I’ll pull you through if you don’t lie down on me and +die to get out of trouble. You know you <i>can</i> die if you +try hard enough.”</p> +<p>“I promise you, my boy,” he said with a laugh.</p> +<p>“Then I’ll let you read this letter from home,” Ben +said, suddenly thrusting it before him.</p> +<p>The doctor’s hand trembled a little as he put on his +glasses and read:</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p><i>My Dear Boy</i>: I cannot tell you how much good your bright +letters have done us. It’s like opening the window and letting +in the sunlight while fresh breezes blow through one’s soul.</p> +<p>Margaret and I have had stirring times. I send you enclosed +an order for the last dollar of money we have left. You must +hoard it. Make it last until your father is safe at home. I +dare not leave it here. Nothing is safe. Every piece of silver +and everything that could be carried has been stolen since we +returned.</p> +<p>Uncle Aleck betrayed the place Jake had hidden our twenty +precious bales of cotton. The war is long since over, but the +“Treasury Agent” declared them confiscated, and then offered +to relieve us of his order if we gave him five bales, each worth +three hundred dollars in gold. I agreed, and within a week +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +another thief came and declared the other fifteen bales confiscated. +They steal it, and the Government never gets a cent. +We dared not try to sell it in open market, as every bale +exposed for sale is “confiscated” at once.</p> +<p>No crop was planted this summer. The negroes are all +drawing rations at the Freedman’s Bureau.</p> +<p>We have turned our house into a hotel, and our table has +become famous. Margaret is a treasure. She has learned to +do everything. We tried to raise a crop on the farm when we +came home, but the negroes stopped work. The Agent of the +Bureau came to us and said he could send them back for a fee +of $50. We paid it, and they worked a week. We found it +easier to run a hotel. We hope to start the farm next year.</p> +<p>Our new minister at the Presbyterian Church is young, +handsome, and eloquent—Rev. Hugh McAlpin.</p> +<p>Mr. Lenoir died last week—but his end was so beautiful, +our tears were half joy. He talked incessantly of your father +and how the country missed him. He seemed much better +the day before the end came, and we took him for a little drive +to Lovers’ Leap. It was there, sixteen years ago, he made love +to Jeannie. When we propped him up on the rustic seat, and +he looked out over the cliff and the river below, I have never +seen a face so transfigured with peace and joy.</p> +<p>“What a beautiful world it is, my dears!” he exclaimed, +taking Jeannie and Marion both by the hand.</p> +<p>They began to cry, and he said with a smile:</p> +<p>“Come now—do you love me?”</p> +<p>And they covered his hands with kisses.</p> +<p>“Well, then you must promise me two things faithfully +here, with Mrs. Cameron to witness!”</p> +<p>“We promise,” they both said in a breath.</p> +<p>“That when I fall asleep, not one thread of black shall ever +cloud the sunlight of our little home, that you will never wear +it, and that you will show your love for me by making my +flowers grow richer, that you will keep my memory green by +always being as beautiful as you are to-day, and make this old +world a sweeter place to live in. I wish you, Jeannie, my +mate, to keep on making the young people glad. Don’t let +their joys be less even for a month because I have laid down +to rest. Let them sing and dance——”</p> +<p>“Oh, Papa!” cried Marion.</p> +<p>“Certainly, my little serious beauty—I’ll not be far away, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +I’ll be near and breathe my songs into their hearts, and into +yours—you both promise?”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes!” they both cried.</p> +<p>As we drove back through the woods, he smiled tenderly +and said to me:</p> +<p>“My neighbour, Doctor Cameron, pays taxes on these +woods, but I own them! Their sighing boughs, stirred by the +breezes, have played for me oratorios grander than all the +scores of human genius. I’ll hear the Choir Invisible play +them when I sleep.”</p> +<p>He died that night suddenly. With his last breath he sighed:</p> +<p>“Draw the curtains and let me see again the moonlit woods!”</p> +<p>They are trying to carry out his wishes. I found they had +nothing to eat, and that he had really died from insufficient +nourishment—a polite expression meaning starvation. I’ve +divided half our little store with them and send the rest to +you. I think Marion more and more the incarnate soul of +her father. I feel as if they are both my children.</p> +<p>My little grandchick, Hugh, is the sweetest youngster alive. +He was a wee thing when you left. Mrs. Lenoir kept him +when they arrested your father. He is so much like your +brother Hugh I feel as if he has come to life again. You should +hear him say grace, so solemnly and tenderly, we can’t help +crying. He made it up himself. This is what he says at +every meal:</p> +<p>“God, please give my grandpa something good to eat in +jail, keep him well, don’t let the pains hurt him any more, and +bring him home to me quick, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.”</p> +<p>I never knew before how the people loved the doctor, nor +how dependent they were on him for help and guidance. Men, +both white and coloured, come here every day to ask about +him. Some of them come from far up in the mountains.</p> +<p>God alone knows how lonely our home and the world has +seemed without him. They say that those who love and live +the close sweet home life for years grow alike in soul and body, +in tastes, ways, and habits. I find it so. People have told me +that your father and I are more alike than brother and sister +of the same blood. In spirit I’m sure it’s true. I know you +love him and that you will leave nothing undone for his health +and safety. Tell him that my only cure for loneliness in his +absence is my fight to keep the wolf from the door, and save +our home against his coming.</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p>Lovingly, your <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Mother</span>.</p> +</div> + +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></div> +<p>When the doctor had finished the reading, he looked +out the window of the jail at the shining dome of the +Capitol for a moment in silence.</p> +<p>“Do you know, my boy, that you have the heritage of +royal blood? You are the child of a wonderful mother. +I’m ashamed when I think of the helpless stupor under +which I have given up, and then remember the deathless +courage with which she has braved it all—the loss of her +boys, her property, your troubles and mine. She has +faced the world alone like a wounded lioness standing +over her cubs. And now she turns her home into a hotel, +and begins life in a strange new world without one doubt +of her success. The South is yet rich even in its ruin.”</p> +<p>“Then you’ll fight and go back to her with me?”</p> +<p>“Yes, never fear.”</p> +<p>“Good! You see, we’re so poor now, pa, you’re lucky +to be saving a board bill here. I’d ‘conspire’ myself and +come in with you but for the fact it would hamper me a +little in helping you.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_ACROSS_THE_CHASM' id='V_ACROSS_THE_CHASM'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Across the Chasm</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>When Ben had fully recovered and his father’s +case looked hopeful, Elsie turned to her study +of music, and the Southern boy suddenly +waked to the fact that the great mystery of life was upon +him. He was in love at last—genuinely, deeply, without +one reservation. He had from habit flirted in a harmless +way with every girl he knew. He left home with little +Marion Lenoir’s girlish kiss warm on his lips. He had +made love to many a pretty girl in old Virginia as the red +tide of war had ebbed and flowed around Stuart’s magic +camps.</p> +<p>But now the great hour of the soul had struck. No +sooner had he dropped the first tender words that might +have their double meaning, feeling his way cautiously +toward her, than she had placed a gulf of dignity between +them, and attempted to cut every tie that bound her life +to his.</p> +<p>It had been so sudden it took his breath away. Could +he win her? The word “fail” had never been in his vocabulary. +It had never run in the speech of his people.</p> +<p>Yes, he would win if it was the only thing he did in +this world. And forthwith he set about it. Life took on +new meaning and new glory. What mattered war or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +wounds, pain or poverty, jails and revolutions—it was +the dawn of life!</p> +<p>He sent her a flower every day and pinned one just like +it on his coat. And every night found him seated by her +side. She greeted him cordially, but the gulf yawned +between them. His courtesy and self-control struck her +with surprise and admiration. In the face of her coldness +he carried about him an air of smiling deference and +gallantry.</p> +<p>She finally told him of her determination to go to +New York to pursue her studies until Phil had finished +the term of his enlistment in his regiment, which had +been ordered on permanent duty in the West.</p> +<p>He laughed with his eyes at this announcement, blinking +the lashes rapidly without moving his lips. It was a +peculiar habit of his when deeply moved by a sudden +thought. It had flashed over him like lightning that she +was trying to get away from him. She would not do +that unless she cared.</p> +<p>“When are you going?” he asked quietly.</p> +<p>“Day after to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Then you will give me one afternoon for a sail on the +river to say good-bye and thank you for what you have +done for me and mine?”</p> +<p>She hesitated, laughed, and refused.</p> +<p>“To-morrow at four o’clock I’ll call for you,” he said +firmly. “If there’s no wind, we can drift with the +tide.”</p> +<p>“I will not have time to go.”</p> +<p>“Promptly at four,” he repeated as he left. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span></p> +<p>Ben spent hours that night weighing the question of +how far he should dare to speak his love. It had been +such an easy thing before. Now it seemed a question of +life and death. Twice the magic words had been on his +lips, and each time something in her manner chilled him +into silence.</p> +<p>Was she cold and incapable of love? No; this manner +of the North was on the surface. He knew that +deep down within her nature lay banked and smouldering +fires of passion for the one man whose breath could stir +it into flame. He felt this all the keener now that the +spell of her companionship and the sweet intimacy of her +daily ministry to him had been broken. The memory +of little movements of her petite figure, the glance of her +warm amber eyes, and the touch of her hand—all had +their tongues of revelation to his eager spirit.</p> +<p>He found her ready at four o’clock.</p> +<p>“You see I decided to go after all,” she said.</p> +<p>“Yes, I knew you would,” he answered.</p> +<p>She was dressed in a simple suit of navy-blue cloth cut +V-shaped at the throat, showing the graceful lines of her +exquisite neck as it melted into the plump shoulders. +She had scorned hoop skirts.</p> +<p>He admired her for this, and yet it made him uneasy. +A woman who could defy an edict of fashion was a new +thing under the sun, and it scared him.</p> +<p>They were seated in the little sailboat now, drifting +out with the tide. It was a perfect day in October, one +of those matchless days of Indian summer in the Virginia +climate when an infinite peace and vast brooding silence +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +fill the earth and sky until one feels that words are a +sacrilege.</p> +<p>Neither of them spoke for minutes, and his heart +grew bold in the stillness. No girl could be still who +was unmoved.</p> +<p>She was seated just in front of him on the left, with +her hand idly rippling the surface of the silvery waters, +gazing at the wooded cliff on the river banks clothed +now in their gorgeous robes of yellow, purple, scarlet, +and gold.</p> +<p>The soft strains of distant music came from a band in +the fort, and her hand in the rippling water seemed its +accompaniment.</p> +<p>Ben was conscious only of her presence. Every sight +and sound of nature seemed to be blended in her presence. +Never in all his life had he seen anything so delicately +beautiful as the ripe rose colour of her cheeks, and all the +tints of autumn’s glory seemed to melt into the gold of +her hair.</p> +<p>And those eyes he felt that God had never set in such +a face before—rich amber, warm and glowing, big and +candid, courageous and truthful.</p> +<p>“Are you dead again?” she asked demurely.</p> +<p>“Well, as the Irishman said in answer to his mate’s +question when he fell off the house, ‘not dead—but +spacheless.’”</p> +<p>He was quick to see the opening her question with its +memories had made, and took advantage of it.</p> +<p>“Look here, Miss Elsie, you’re too honest, independent, +and candid to play hide-and-seek with me. I want +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +to ask you a plain question. You’ve been trying to pick +a quarrel of late. What have I done?”</p> +<p>“Nothing. It has simply come to me that our lives +are far apart. The gulf between us is real and very deep. +Your father was but yesterday a slaveholder——”</p> +<p>Ben grinned:</p> +<p>“Yes, your slave-trading grandfather sold them to us +the day before.”</p> +<p>Elsie blushed and bristled for a fight.</p> +<p>“You won’t mind if I give you a few lessons in history, +will you?” Ben asked softly.</p> +<p>“Not in the least. I didn’t know that Southerners +studied history,” she answered, with a toss of her head.</p> +<p>“We made a specialty of the history of slavery, at least. +I had a dear old teacher at home who fairly blazed with +light on this subject. He is one of the best-read men in +America. He happens to be in jail just now. But I +haven’t forgotten—I know it by heart.”</p> +<p>“I am waiting for light,” she interrupted cynically.</p> +<p>“The South is no more to blame for negro slavery +than the North. Our slaves were stolen from Africa +by Yankee skippers. When a slaver arrived at Boston, +your pious Puritan clergyman offered public prayer of +thanks that ‘A gracious and overruling Providence had +been pleased to bring to this land of freedom another +cargo of benighted heathen to enjoy the blessings of a +gospel dispensation——’”</p> +<p>She looked at him with angry incredulity and cried:</p> +<p>“Go on.”</p> +<p>“Twenty-three times the Legislature of Virginia passed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +acts against the importation of slaves, which the king +vetoed on petition of the Massachusetts slave traders. +Jefferson made these acts of the king one of the grievances +of the Declaration of Independence, but a Massachusetts +member succeeded in striking it out. The Southern men +in the convention which framed the Constitution put into +it a clause abolishing the slave trade, but the Massachusetts +men succeeded in adding a clause extending the +trade twenty years——”</p> +<p>He smiled and paused.</p> +<p>“Go on,” she said, with impatience.</p> +<p>“In Colonial days a negro woman was publicly burned +to death in Boston. The first Abolition paper was published +in Tennessee by Embree. Benjamin Lundy, his +successor, could not find a single Abolitionist in Boston. +In 1828 over half the people of Tennessee favoured Abolition. +At this time there were one hundred and forty +Abolition Societies in America—one hundred and three in +the South, and not one in Massachusetts. It was not +until 1836 that Massachusetts led in Abolition—not until +all her own slaves had been sold to us at a profit and the +slave trade had been destroyed——”</p> +<p>She looked at Ben with anger for a moment and met his +tantalizing look of good humour.</p> +<p>“Can you stand any more?”</p> +<p>“Certainly, I enjoy it.”</p> +<p>“I’m just breaking down the barriers—so to speak,” +he said, with the laughter still lurking in his eyes, as he +looked steadily ahead.</p> +<p>“By all means go on,” she said soberly. “I thought +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +at first you were trying to tease me. I see that you are in +earnest.”</p> +<p>“Never more so. This is about the only little path of +history I’m at home in—I love to show off in it. I heard +a cheerful idiot say the other day that your father meant +to carry the civilization of Massachusetts to the Rio +Grande until we had a Democracy in America. I smiled. +While Massachusetts was enforcing laws about the dress +of the rich and the poor, founding a church with a whipping-post, +jail, and gibbet, and limiting the right to vote +to a church membership fixed by pew rents, Carolina was +the home of freedom where first the equal rights of men +were proclaimed. New England people worth less than +one thousand dollars were prohibited by law from wearing +the garb of a gentleman, gold or silver lace, buttons on +the knees, or to walk in great boots, or their women to +wear silk or scarfs, while the Quakers, Maryland Catholics, +Baptists, and Scotch-Irish Presbyterians were everywhere +in the South the heralds of man’s equality before +the law.”</p> +<p>“But barring our ancestors, I have some things against +the men of this generation.”</p> +<p>“Have I, too, sinned and come short?” he asked with +mock gravity.</p> +<p>“Our ideals of life are far apart,” she firmly declared.</p> +<p>“What ails my ideal?”</p> +<p>“Your egotism, for one thing. The air with which you +calmly select what pleases your fancy. Northern men +are bad enough—the insolence of a Southerner is beyond +words!”</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-126.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 395px; height: 583px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 395px;'> +LILLIAN GISH AS ELSIE, AND THE SENTINEL.<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span></div> +<p>“You don’t say so!” cried Ben, bursting into a hearty +laugh. “Isn’t your aunt, Mrs. Farnham, the president +of a club?”</p> +<p>“Yes, and she is a very brilliant woman.”</p> +<p>“Enlighten me further.”</p> +<p>“I deny your heaven-born male kingship. The lord +of creation is after all a very inferior animal—nearer the +brute creation, weaker in infancy, shorter lived, more imperfectly +developed, given to fighting, and addicted to +idiocy. I never saw a female idiot in my life—did you?”</p> +<p>“Come to think of it, I never did,” acknowledged Ben +with comic gravity. “What else?”</p> +<p>“Isn’t that enough?”</p> +<p>“It’s nothing. I agree with everything you say, but it +is irrelevant. I’m studying law, you know.”</p> +<p>“I have a personality of my own. You and your kind +assume the right to absorb all lesser lights.”</p> +<p>“Certainly, I’m a man.”</p> +<p>“I don’t care to be absorbed by a mere man.”</p> +<p>“Don’t wish to be protected, sheltered, and cared for?”</p> +<p>“I dream of a life that shall be larger than the four +walls of a home. I have never gone into hysterics over +the idea of becoming a cook and housekeeper without +wages, and snuffing my life out while another grows, expands, +and claims the lordship of the world. I can sing. +My voice is to me what eloquence is to man. My ideal +is an intellectual companion who will inspire and lead me +to develop all that I feel within to its highest reach.”</p> +<p>She paused a moment and looked defiantly into Ben’s +brown eyes, about which a smile was constantly playing. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +He looked away, and again the river echoed with his contagious +laughter. She had to join in spite of herself. +He laughed with boyish gayety. It danced in his eyes, +and gave spring to every movement of his slender wiry +body. She felt its contagion enfold her.</p> +<p>His laughter melted into a song. In a voice vibrant +with joy he sang, “If you get there before I do, tell ’em +I’m comin’ too!”</p> +<p>As Elsie listened, her anger grew as she recalled the +amazing folly that had induced her to tell the secret +feelings of her inmost soul to this man almost a stranger. +Whence came this miracle of influence about him, this +gift of intimacy? She felt a shock as if she had been +immodest. She was in an agony of doubt as to +what he was thinking of her, and dreaded to meet his +gaze.</p> +<p>And yet, when he turned toward her, his whole being a +smiling compound of dark Southern blood and bone and +fire, at the sound of his voice all doubt and questioning +melted.</p> +<p>“Do you know,” he said earnestly, “that you are the +funniest, most charming girl I ever met?”</p> +<p>“Thanks. I’ve heard your experience has been large +for one of your age.”</p> +<p>Ben’s eyes danced.</p> +<p>“Perhaps, yes. You appeal to things in me that I +didn’t know were there—to all the senses of body and soul +at once. Your strength of mind, with its conceits, and +your quick little temper seem so odd and out of place, +clothed in the gentleness of your beauty.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span></p> +<p>“I was never more serious in my life. There are other +things more personal about you that I do not like.”</p> +<p>“What?”</p> +<p>“Your cavalier habits.”</p> +<p>“Cavalier fiddlesticks. There are no Cavaliers in my +country. We are all Covenanter and Huguenot folks. +The idea that Southern boys are lazy loafing dreamers is a +myth. I was raised on the catechism.”</p> +<p>“You love to fish and hunt and frolic—you flirt with +every girl you meet, and you drink sometimes. I often +feel that you are cruel and that I do not know you.”</p> +<p>Ben’s face grew serious, and the red scar in the edge +of his hair suddenly became livid with the rush of blood.</p> +<p>“Perhaps I don’t mean that you shall know all yet,” he +said slowly. “My ideal of a man is one that leads, +charms, dominates, and yet eludes. I confess that I’m +close kin to an angel and a devil, and that I await a +woman’s hand to lead me into the ways of peace and life.”</p> +<p>The spiritual earnestness of the girl was quick to catch +the subtle appeal of his last words. His broad, high forehead, +straight, masterly nose, with its mobile nostrils, +seemed to her very manly at just that moment and very +appealing. A soft answer was on her lips.</p> +<p>He saw it, and leaned toward her in impulsive tenderness. +A timid look on her face caused him to sink back in +silence.</p> +<p>They had now drifted near the city. The sun was +slowly sinking in a smother of fiery splendour that +mirrored its changing hues in the still water. The hush +of the harvest fullness of autumn life was over all nature. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +They passed a camp of soldiers and then a big hospital on +the banks above. A gun flashed from the hill, and the +flag dropped from its staff.</p> +<p>The girl’s eyes lingered on the flower in his coat a +moment and then on the red scar in the edge of his dark +hair, and somehow the difference between them seemed +to melt into the falling twilight. Only his nearness was +real. Again a strange joy held her.</p> +<p>He threw her a look of tenderness, and she began to +tremble. A sea gull poised a moment above them and +broke into a laugh.</p> +<p>Bending nearer, he gently took her hand, and said:</p> +<p>“I love you!”</p> +<p>A sob caught her breath and she buried her face on her +arm.</p> +<p>“I am for you, and you are for me. Why beat your +wings against the thing that is and must be? What else +matters? With all my sins and faults my land is yours—a +land of sunshine, eternal harvests, and everlasting song, +old-fashioned and provincial perhaps, but kind and hospitable. +Around its humblest cottage song birds live and +mate and nest and never leave. The winged ones of your +own cold fields have heard their call, and the sky to-night +will echo with their chatter as they hurry southward. +Elsie, my own, I too have called—come; I love you!”</p> +<p>She lifted her face to him full of tender spiritual charm, +her eyes burning their passionate answer.</p> +<p>He bent and kissed her.</p> +<p>“Say it! Say it!” he whispered.</p> +<p>“I love you!” she sighed.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_THE_GAUGE_OF_BATTLE' id='VI_THE_GAUGE_OF_BATTLE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Gauge of Battle</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>The day of the first meeting of the National Congress +after the war was one of intense excitement. +The galleries of the House were packed. Elsie +was there with Ben in a fever of secret anxiety lest the +stirring drama should cloud her own life. She watched +her father limp to his seat with every eye fixed on him.</p> +<p>The President had pursued with persistence the plan of +Lincoln for the immediate restoration of the Union. +Would Congress follow the lead of the President or challenge +him to mortal combat?</p> +<p>Civil governments had been restored in all the Southern +States, with men of the highest ability chosen as governors +and lawmakers. Their legislatures had unanimously +voted for the Thirteenth Amendment of the Constitution +abolishing slavery, and elected senators and representatives +to Congress. Mr. Seward, the Secretary of State, +had declared the new amendment a part of the organic +law of the Nation by the vote of these States.</p> +<p>General Grant went to the South to report its condition +and boldly declared:</p> +<p>“I am satisfied that the mass of thinking people of the +South accept the situation in good faith. Slavery and +secession they regard as settled forever by the highest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +known tribunal, and consider this decision a fortunate one +for the whole country.”</p> +<p>Would the Southerners be allowed to enter?</p> +<p>Amid breathless silence the clerk rose to call the roll of +members-elect. Every ear was bent to hear the name of +the first Southern man. Not one was called! The Master +had spoken. His clerk knew how to play his part.</p> +<p>The next business of the House was to receive the +message of the Chief Magistrate of the Nation.</p> +<p>The message came, but not from the White House. It +came from the seat of the Great Commoner.</p> +<p>As the first thrill of excitement over the challenge to the +President slowly subsided, Stoneman rose, planted his +big club foot in the middle of the aisle, and delivered to +Congress the word of its new master.</p> +<p>It was Ben’s first view of the man of all the world just +now of most interest. From his position he could see his +full face and figure.</p> +<p>He began speaking in a careless, desultory way. His +tone was loud yet not declamatory, at first in a grumbling, +grandfatherly, half-humorous, querulous accent that +riveted every ear instantly. A sort of drollery of a contagious +kind haunted it. Here and there a member tittered +in expectation of a flash of wit.</p> +<p>His figure was taller than the average, slightly bent, +with a dignity which suggested reserve power and contempt +for his audience. One knew instinctively that +back of the boldest word this man might say there was a +bolder unspoken word he had chosen not to speak.</p> +<p>His limbs were long, and their movements slow, yet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +nervous as from some internal fiery force. His hands +were big and ugly, and always in ungraceful fumbling +motion as though a separate soul dwelt within them.</p> +<p>The heaped-up curly profusion of his brown wig gave a +weird impression to the spread of his mobile features. +His eagle-beaked nose had three distinct lines and angles. +His chin was broad and bold, and his brows beetling and +projecting. His mouth was wide, marked, and grim; +when opened, deep and cavernous; when closed, it seemed +to snap so tightly that the lower lip protruded.</p> +<p>Of all his make-up, his eye was the most fascinating, +and it held Ben spellbound. It could thrill to the deepest +fibre of the soul that looked into it, yet it did not gleam. +It could dominate, awe, and confound, yet it seemed to +have no colour or fire. He could easily see it across the +vast hall from the galleries, yet it was not large. Two +bold, colourless dagger-points of light they seemed. As he +grew excited, they darkened as if passing under a cloud.</p> +<p>A sudden sweep of his huge apelike arm in an angular +gesture, and the drollery and carelessness of his voice were +riven from it as by a bolt of lightning.</p> +<p>He was driving home his message now in brutal frankness. +Yet in the height of his fiercest invective he never +seemed to strengthen himself or call on his resources. In +its climax he was careless, conscious of power, and contemptuous +of results, as though as a gambler he had +staked and lost all and in the moment of losing suddenly +become the master of those who had beaten him.</p> +<p>His speech never once bent to persuade or convince. +He meant to brain the opposition with a single blow, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +he did it. For he suddenly took the breath from his foes +by shouting in their faces the hidden motive of which they +were hoping to accuse him!</p> +<p>“Admit these Southern Representatives,” he cried, +“and with the Democrats elected from the North, within +one term they will have a majority in Congress and the +Electoral College. The supremacy of our party’s life is +at stake. The man who dares palter with such a measure +is a rebel, a traitor to his party and his people.”</p> +<p>A cheer burst from his henchmen, and his foes sat in +dazed stupor at his audacity. He moved the appointment +of a “Committee on Reconstruction” to whom the +entire government of the “conquered provinces of the +South” should be committed, and to whom all credentials +of their pretended representatives should be referred.</p> +<p>He sat down as the Speaker put his motion, declared +it carried, and quickly announced the names of this Imperial +Committee with the Hon. Austin Stoneman as its +chairman.</p> +<p>He then permitted the message of the President of the +United States to be read by his clerk.</p> +<p>“Well, upon my soul,” said Ben, taking a deep breath +and looking at Elsie, “he’s the whole thing, isn’t he?”</p> +<p>The girl smiled with pride.</p> +<p>“Yes; he is a genius. He was born to command and +yet never could resist the cry of a child or the plea of a +woman. He hates, but he hates ideas and systems. He +makes threats, yet when he meets the man who stands +for all he hates he falls in love with his enemy.”</p> +<p>“Then there’s hope for me?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></p> +<p>“Yes, but I must be the judge of the time to speak.”</p> +<p>“Well, if he looks at me as he did once to-day, you may +have to do the speaking also.”</p> +<p>“You will like him when you know him. He is one +of the greatest men in America.”</p> +<p>“At least he’s the father of the greatest girl in the +world, which is far more important.”</p> +<p>“I wonder if you know how important?” she asked +seriously. “He is the apple of my eye. His bitter +words, his cynicism and sarcasm, are all on the surface—masks +that hide a great sensitive spirit. You can’t know +with what brooding tenderness I have always loved and +worshipped him. I will never marry against his wishes.”</p> +<p>“I hope he and I will always be good friends,” said +Ben doubtfully.</p> +<p>“You must,” she replied, eagerly pressing his hand.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_A_WOMAN_LAUGHS' id='VII_A_WOMAN_LAUGHS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Woman Laughs</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Each day the conflict waxed warmer between +the President and the Commoner.</p> +<p>The first bill sent to the White House to Africanize +the “conquered provinces” the President vetoed +in a message of such logic, dignity, and power, the old +leader found to his amazement it was impossible to rally +the two-thirds majority to pass it over his head.</p> +<p>At first, all had gone as planned. Lynch and Howle +brought to him a report on “Southern Atrocities,” secured +through the councils of the secret oath-bound +Union League, which had destroyed the impression of +General Grant’s words and prepared his followers for +blind submission to his Committee.</p> +<p>Yet the rally of a group of men in defence of the Constitution +had given the President unexpected strength.</p> +<p>Stoneman saw that he must hold his hand on the throat +of the South and fight another campaign. Howle and +Lynch furnished the publication committee of the Union +League the matter, and they printed four million five +hundred thousand pamphlets on “Southern Atrocities.”</p> +<p>The Northern States were hostile to negro suffrage, the +first step of his revolutionary programme, and not a dozen +men in Congress had yet dared to favour it. Ohio, Michigan, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +New York, and Kansas had rejected it by overwhelming +majorities. But he could appeal to their passions and +prejudices against the “Barbarism” of the South. It +would work like magic. When he had the South where +he wanted it, he would turn and ram negro suffrage and +negro equality down the throats of the reluctant North.</p> +<p>His energies were now bent to prevent any effective +legislation in Congress until his strength should be omnipotent.</p> +<p>A cloud disturbed the sky for a moment in the Senate. +John Sherman, of Ohio, began to loom on the horizon as +a constructive statesman, and without consulting him +was quietly forcing over Sumner’s classic oratory a Reconstruction +Bill restoring the Southern States to the +Union on the basis of Lincoln’s plan, with no provision +for interference with the suffrage. It had gone to its last +reading, and the final vote was pending.</p> +<p>The house was in session at 3 <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>a. m.</span>, waiting in feverish +anxiety the outcome of this struggle in the Senate.</p> +<p>Old Stoneman was in his seat, fast asleep from the +exhaustion of an unbroken session of forty hours. His +meals he had sent to his desk from the Capitol restaurant. +He was seventy-four years old and not in good health, +yet his energy was tireless, his resources inexhaustible, +and his audacity matchless.</p> +<p>Sunset Cox, the wag of the House, an opponent but +personal friend of the old Commoner, passing his seat and +seeing the great head sunk on his breast in sleep, laughed +softly and said:</p> +<p>“Mr. Speaker!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></p> +<p>The presiding officer recognized the young Democrat +with a nod of answering humour and responded:</p> +<p>“The gentleman from New York.”</p> +<p>“I move you, sir,” said Cox, “that, in view of the advanced +age and eminent services of the distinguished +gentleman from Pennsylvania, the Sergeant-at-Arms be +instructed to furnish him with enough poker chips to +last till morning!”</p> +<p>The scattered members who were awake roared with +laughter, the Speaker pounded furiously with his gavel, +the sleepy little pages jumped up, rubbing their eyes, +and ran here and there answering imaginary calls, +and the whole House waked to its usual noise and confusion.</p> +<p>The old man raised his massive head and looked to the +door leading toward the Senate just as Sumner rushed +through. He had slept for a moment, but his keen intellect +had taken up the fight at precisely the point at +which he left it.</p> +<p>Sumner approached his desk rapidly, leaned over, and +reported his defeat and Sherman’s triumph.</p> +<p>“For God’s sake throttle this measure in the House or +we are ruined!” he exclaimed.</p> +<p>“Don’t be alarmed,” replied the cynic. “I’ll be here +with stronger weapons than articulated wind.”</p> +<p>“You have not a moment to lose. The bill is on its +way to the Speaker’s desk, and Sherman’s men are going +to force its passage to-night.”</p> +<p>The Senator returned to the other end of the Capitol +wrapped in the mantle of his outraged dignity, and in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +thirty minutes the bill was defeated, and the House +adjourned.</p> +<p>As the old Commoner hobbled through the door, his +crooked cane thumping the marble floor, Sumner seized +and pressed his hand:</p> +<p>“How did you do it?”</p> +<p>Stoneman’s huge jaws snapped together and his lower +lip protruded:</p> +<p>“I sent for Cox and summoned the leader of the +Democrats. I told them if they would join with me and +defeat this bill, I’d give them a better one the next session. +And I will—negro suffrage! The gudgeons swallowed +it whole!”</p> +<p>Sumner lifted his eyebrows and wrapped his cloak a +little closer.</p> +<p>The Great Commoner laughed as he departed:</p> +<p>“He is yet too good for this world, but he’ll forget it +before we’re done this fight.”</p> +<p>On the steps a beggar asked him for a night’s lodging, +and he tossed him a gold eagle.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>The North, which had rejected negro suffrage for itself +with scorn, answered Stoneman’s fierce appeal to their +passions against the South, and sent him a delegation of +radicals eager to do his will.</p> +<p>So fierce had waxed the combat between the President +and Congress that the very existence of Stanton’s prisoners +languishing in jail was forgotten, and the Secretary +of War himself became a football to be kicked back and +forth in this conflict of giants. The fact that Andrew +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +Johnson was from Tennessee, and had been an old-line +Democrat before his election as a Unionist with Lincoln, +was now a fatal weakness in his position. Under Stoneman’s +assaults he became at once an executive without a +party, and every word of amnesty and pardon he proclaimed +for the South in accordance with Lincoln’s plan +was denounced as the act of a renegade courting favour +of traitors and rebels.</p> +<p>Stanton remained in his cabinet against his wishes to +insult and defy him, and Stoneman, quick to see the way +by which the President of the Nation could be degraded +and made ridiculous, introduced a bill depriving him of +the power to remove his own cabinet officers. The act +was not only meant to degrade the President; it was a +trap set for his ruin. The penalties were so fixed that its +violation would give specific ground for his trial, impeachment, +and removal from office.</p> +<p>Again Stoneman passed his first act to reduce the “conquered +provinces” of the South to negro rule.</p> +<p>President Johnson vetoed it with a message of such +logic in defence of the constitutional rights of the States +that it failed by one vote to find the two-thirds majority +needed to become a law without his approval.</p> +<p>The old Commoner’s eyes froze into two dagger-points +of icy light when this vote was announced.</p> +<p>With fury he cursed the President, but above all he +cursed the men of his own party who had faltered.</p> +<p>As he fumbled his big hands nervously, he growled:</p> +<p>“If I only had five men of genuine courage in Congress, +I’d hang the man at the other end of the avenue from the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +porch of the White House! But I haven’t got them—cowards, +dastards, dolts, and snivelling fools——”</p> +<p>His decision was instantly made. He would expel +enough Democrats from the Senate and the House to +place his two-thirds majority beyond question. The +name of the President never passed his lips. He referred +to him always, even in public debate, as “the man at the +other end of the avenue,” or “the former Governor of +Tennessee who once threatened rebels—the late lamented +Andrew Johnson, of blessed memory.”</p> +<p>He ordered the expulsion of the new member of the +House from Indiana, Daniel W. Voorhees, and the +new Senator from New Jersey, John P. Stockton. +This would give him a majority of two thirds composed +of men who would obey his word without a question.</p> +<p>Voorhees heard of the edict with indignant wrath. +He had met Stoneman in the lobbies, where he was +often the centre of admiring groups of friends. His +wit and audacity, and, above all, his brutal frankness, +had won the admiration of the “Tall Sycamore of the +Wabash.” He could not believe such a man would +be a party to a palpable fraud. He appealed to him +personally:</p> +<p>“Look here, Stoneman,” the young orator cried with +wrath, “I appeal to your sense of honour and decency. +My credentials have been accepted by your own committee, +and my seat been awarded me. My majority is +unquestioned. This is a high-handed outrage. You +cannot permit this crime.”</p> +<p>The old man thrust his deformed foot out before him, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +struck it meditatively with his cane, and looking Voorhees +straight in the eye, boldly said:</p> +<p>“There’s nothing the matter with your majority, young +man. I’ve no doubt it’s all right. Unfortunately, you +are a Democrat, and happen to be the odd man in the +way of the two-thirds majority on which the supremacy +of my party depends. You will have to go. Come back +some other time.” And he did.</p> +<p>In the Senate there was a hitch. When the vote was +taken on the expulsion of Stockton, to the amazement of +the leader it was a tie.</p> +<p>He hobbled into the Senate Chamber, with the steel +point of his cane ringing on the marble flags as though +he were thrusting it through the vitals of the weakling +who had sneaked and hedged and trimmed at the crucial +moment.</p> +<p>He met Howle at the door.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter in there?” he asked.</p> +<p>“They’re trying to compromise.”</p> +<p>“Compromise—the Devil of American politics,” he +muttered. “But how did the vote fail—it was all fixed +before the roll-call?”</p> +<p>“Roman, of Maine, has trouble with his conscience! +He is paired not to vote on this question with Stockton’s +colleague, who is sick in Trenton. His ‘honour’ is involved, +and he refuses to break his word.”</p> +<p>“I see,” said Stoneman, pulling his bristling brows down +until his eyes were two beads of white gleaming through +them. “Tell Wade to summon every member of the party +in his room immediately and hold the Senate in session.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></p> +<p>When the group of Senators crowded into the Vice-president’s +room the old man faced them leaning on his +cane and delivered an address of five minutes they never +forgot.</p> +<p>His speech had a nameless fascination. The man +himself with his elemental passions was a wonder. He +left on public record no speech worth reading, and yet +these powerful men shrank under his glance. As the +nostrils of his big three-angled nose dilated, the scream +of an eagle rang in his voice, his huge ugly hand held +the crook of his cane with the clutch of a tiger, his +tongue flew with the hiss of an adder, and his big deformed +foot seemed to grip the floor as the claw of a +beast.</p> +<p>“The life of a political party, gentlemen,” he growled +in conclusion, “is maintained by a scheme of subterfuges +in which the moral law cuts no figure. As your leader, I +know but one law—success. The world is full of fools +who must have toys with which to play. A belief in politics +is the favourite delusion of shallow American minds. +But you and I have no delusions. Your life depends on +this vote. If any man thinks the abstraction called +‘honour’ is involved, let him choose between his honour +and his life! I call no names. This issue must be settled +now before the Senate adjourns. There can be no to-morrow. +It is life or death. Let the roll be called again +immediately.”</p> +<p>The grave Senators resumed their seats, and Wade, the +acting Vice-president, again put the question to Stockton’s +expulsion. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></p> +<p>The member from New England sat pale and trembling, +in his soul the anguish of the mortal combat between his +Puritan conscience, the iron heritage of centuries, and the +order of his captain.</p> +<p>When the Clerk of the Senate called his name, still the +battle raged. He sat in silence, the whiteness of death +about his lips, while the clerk at a signal from the Chair +paused.</p> +<p>And then a scene the like of which was never known +in American history! August Senators crowded around +his desk, begging, shouting, imploring, and demanding +that a fellow Senator break his solemn word of +honour!</p> +<p>For a moment pandemonium reigned.</p> +<p>“Vote! Vote! Call his name again!” they shouted.</p> +<p>High above all rang the voice of Charles Sumner, leading +the wild chorus, crying:</p> +<p>“Vote! Vote! Vote!”</p> +<p>The galleries hissed and cheered—the cheers at last +drowning every hiss.</p> +<p>Stoneman pushed his way among the mob which surrounded +the badgered Puritan as he attempted to +retreat into the cloakroom.</p> +<p>“Will you vote?” he hissed, his eyes flashing poison.</p> +<p>“My conscience will not permit it,” he faltered.</p> +<p>“To hell with your conscience!” the old leader thundered. +“Go back to your seat, ask the clerk to call your +name, and vote, or by the living God I’ll read you out of +the party to-night and brand you a snivelling coward, a +copperhead, a renegade, and traitor!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span></p> +<p>Trembling from head to foot, he staggered back to his +seat, the cold sweat standing in beads on his forehead, and +gasped:</p> +<p>“Call my name!”</p> +<p>The shrill voice of the clerk rang out in the stillness like +the peal of a trumpet:</p> +<p>“Mr. Roman!”</p> +<p>And the deed was done.</p> +<p>A cheer burst from his colleagues, and the roll-call +proceeded.</p> +<p>When Stockton’s name was reached he sprang to his +feet, voted for himself, and made a second tie!</p> +<p>With blank faces they turned to the leader, who ordered +Charles Sumner to move that the Senator from New +Jersey be not allowed to answer his name on an issue +involving his own seat.</p> +<p>It was carried. Again the roll was called, and Stockton +expelled by a majority of one.</p> +<p>In the moment of ominous silence which followed, a +yellow woman of sleek animal beauty leaned far over the +gallery rail and laughed aloud.</p> +<p>The passage of each act of the Revolutionary programme +over the veto of the President was now but a +matter of form. The act to degrade his office by forcing +him to keep a cabinet officer who daily insulted him, the +Civil Rights Bill, and the Freedman’s Bureau Bill followed +in rapid succession.</p> +<p>Stoneman’s crowning Reconstruction Act was passed, +two years after the war had closed, shattering the Union +again into fragments, blotting the names of ten great +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +Southern States from its roll, and dividing their territory +into five Military Districts under the control of belted +satraps.</p> +<p>When this measure was vetoed by the President, it +came accompanied by a message whose words will be forever +etched in fire on the darkest page of the Nation’s +life.</p> +<p>Amid hisses, curses, jeers, and cat-calls, the Clerk of the +House read its burning words:</p> +<p>“<i>The power thus given to the commanding officer over the +people of each district is that of an absolute monarch. His +mere will is to take the place of law. He may make a criminal +code of his own; he can make it as bloody as any recorded +in history, or he can reserve the privilege of acting on the +impulse of his private passions in each case that arises.</i></p> +<p>“<i>Here is a bill of attainer against nine millions of people +at once. It is based upon an accusation so vague as to be +scarcely intelligible, and found to be true upon no credible +evidence. Not one of the nine millions was heard in his +own defence. The representatives even of the doomed parties +were excluded from all participation in the trial. The +conviction is to be followed by the most ignominious punishment +ever inflicted on large masses of men. It disfranchises +them by hundreds of thousands and degrades them all—even +those who are admitted to be guiltless—from the rank +of freemen to the condition of slaves.</i></p> +<p>“<i>Such power has not been wielded by any monarch in England +for more than five hundred years, and in all that time +no people who speak the English tongue have borne such +servitude.</i>” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span></p> +<p>When the last jeering cat-call which greeted this message +of the Chief Magistrate had died away on the floor +and in the galleries, old Stoneman rose, with a smile +playing about his grim mouth, and introduced his bill to +impeach the President of the United States and remove +him from office.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_A_DREAM' id='VIII_A_DREAM'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Dream</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Elsie spent weeks of happiness in an abandonment +of joy to the spell of her lover. His charm +was resistless. His gift of delicate intimacy, the +eloquence with which he expressed his love, and yet the +manly dignity with which he did it, threw a spell no +woman could resist.</p> +<p>Each day’s working hours were given to his father’s +case and to the study of law. If there was work to do, he +did it, and then struck the word care from his life, giving +himself body and soul to his love. Great events were +moving. The shock of the battle between Congress and +the President began to shake the Republic to its foundations. +He heard nothing, felt nothing, save the music of +Elsie’s voice.</p> +<p>And she knew it. She had only played with lovers +before. She had never seen one of Ben’s kind, and he +took her by storm. His creed was simple. The chief +end of life is to glorify the girl you love. Other things +could wait. And he let them wait. He ignored their +existence.</p> +<p>But one cloud cast its shadow over the girl’s heart during +these red-letter days of life—the fear of what her +father would do to her lover’s people. Ben had asked her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +whether he must speak to him. When she said “No, +not yet,” he forgot that such a man lived. As for his +politics, he knew nothing and cared less.</p> +<p>But the girl knew and thought with sickening dread, +until she forgot her fears in the joy of his laughter. Ben +laughed so heartily, so insinuatingly, the contagion of his +fun could not be resisted.</p> +<p>He would sit for hours and confess to her the secrets of +his boyish dreams of glory in war, recount his thrilling +adventures and daring deeds with such enthusiasm that +his cause seemed her own, and the pity and the anguish of +the ruin of his people hurt her with the keen sense of personal +pain. His love for his native State was so genuine, +his pride in the bravery and goodness of its people so +chivalrous, she began to see for the first time how the +cords which bound the Southerner to his soil were of the +heart’s red blood.</p> +<p>She began to understand why the war, which had +seemed to her a wicked, cruel, and causeless rebellion, was +the one inevitable thing in our growth from a loose group +of sovereign States to a United Nation. Love had given +her his point of view.</p> +<p>Secret grief over her father’s course began to grow into +conscious fear. With unerring instinct she felt the fatal +day drawing nearer when these two men, now of her inmost +life, must clash in mortal enmity.</p> +<p>She saw little of her father. He was absorbed with +fevered activity and deadly hate in his struggle with the +President.</p> +<p>Brooding over her fears one night, she had tried to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +interest Ben in politics. To her surprise she found that +he knew nothing of her father’s real position or power as +leader of his party. The stunning tragedy of the war had +for the time crushed out of his consciousness all political +ideas, as it had for most young Southerners. He took her +hand while a dreamy look overspread his swarthy face:</p> +<p>“Don’t cross a bridge till you come to it. I learned +that in the war. Politics are a mess. Let me tell you +something that counts——”</p> +<p>He felt her hand’s soft pressure and reverently kissed +it. “Listen,” he whispered. “I was dreaming last +night after I left you of the home we’ll build. Just back +of our place, on the hill overlooking the river, my father +and mother planted trees in exact duplicate of the ones +they placed around our house when they were married. +They set these trees in honour of the first-born of their +love, that he should make his nest there when grown. +But it was not for him. He had pitched his tent on +higher ground, and the others with him. This place +will be mine. There are forty varieties of trees, all +grown—elm, maple, oak, holly, pine, cedar, magnolia, +and every fruit and flowering stem that grows in our +friendly soil. A little house, built near the vacant space +reserved for the homestead, is nicely kept by a farmer, +and birds have learned to build in every shrub and tree. +All the year their music rings its chorus—one long overture +awaiting the coming of my bride——”</p> +<p>Elsie sighed.</p> +<p>“Listen, dear,” he went on eagerly. “Last night I +dreamed the South had risen from her ruins. I saw you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +there. I saw our home standing amid a bower of roses +your hands had planted. The full moon wrapped it in +soft light, while you and I walked hand in hand in silence +beneath our trees. But fairer and brighter than the +moon was the face of her I loved, and sweeter than all +the songs of birds the music of her voice!”</p> +<p>A tear dimmed the girl’s warm eyes, and a deeper +flush mantled her cheeks, as she lifted her face and whispered:</p> +<p>“Kiss me.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_THE_KING_AMUSES_HIMSELF' id='IX_THE_KING_AMUSES_HIMSELF'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The King Amuses Himself</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>With savage energy the Great Commoner +pressed to trial the first impeachment of +a President of the United States for high +crimes and misdemeanours.</p> +<p>His bill to confiscate the property of the Southern +people was already pending on the calendar of the House. +This bill was the most remarkable ever written in the +English language or introduced into a legislative body of +the Aryan race. It provided for the confiscation of +ninety per cent. of the land of ten great States of the +American Union. To each negro in the South was allotted +forty acres from the estate of his former master, +and the remaining millions of acres were to be divided +among the “loyal who had suffered by reason of the +Rebellion.”</p> +<p>The execution of this, the most stupendous crime +ever conceived by an English lawmaker, involving the +exile and ruin of millions of innocent men, women, and +children, could not be intrusted to Andrew Johnson.</p> +<p>No such measure could be enforced so long as any man +was President and Commander-in-chief of the Army and +Navy who claimed his title under the Constitution. +Hence the absolute necessity of his removal. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></p> +<p>The conditions of society were ripe for this daring +enterprise.</p> +<p>Not only was the Ship of State in the hands of revolutionists +who had boarded her in the storm stress of a +civic convulsion, but among them swarmed the pirate +captains of the boldest criminals who ever figured in the +story of a nation.</p> +<p>The first great Railroad Lobby, with continental empires +at stake, thronged the Capitol with its lawyers, +agents, barkers, and hired courtesans.</p> +<p>The Cotton Thieves, who operated through a ring of +Treasury agents, had confiscated unlawfully three million +bales of cotton hidden in the South during the war +and at its close, the last resource of a ruined people. The +Treasury had received a paltry twenty thousand bales +for the use of its name with which to seize alleged “property +of the Confederate Government.” The value of +this cotton, stolen from the widows and orphans, the +maimed and crippled, of the South was over $700,000,000 +in gold—a capital sufficient to have started an impoverished +people again on the road to prosperity. The +agents of this ring surrounded the halls of legislation, +guarding their booty from envious eyes, and demanding +the enactment of vaster schemes of legal confiscation.</p> +<p>The Whiskey Ring had just been formed, and began its +system of gigantic frauds by which it scuttled the Treasury.</p> +<p>Above them all towered the figure of Oakes Ames, +whose master mind had organized the <i>Crédit Mobilier</i> +steal. This vast infamy had already eaten its way into +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +the heart of Congress and dug the graves of many illustrious +men.</p> +<p>So open had become the shame that Stoneman was compelled +to increase his committees in the morning, when a +corrupt majority had been bought the night before.</p> +<p>He arose one day, and looking at the distinguished +Speaker, who was himself the secret associate of Oakes +Ames, said:</p> +<p>“Mr. Speaker: while the House slept, the enemy has +sown tares among our wheat. The corporations of this +country, having neither bodies to be kicked nor souls to +be lost, have, <i>perhaps</i> by the power of argument alone, +beguiled from the majority of my Committee the member +from Connecticut. The enemy have now a majority of +one. I move to increase the Committee to twelve.”</p> +<p>Speaker Colfax, soon to be hurled from the Vice-president’s +chair for his part with those thieves, increased his +Committee.</p> +<p>Everybody knew that “the power of argument alone” +meant ten thousand dollars cash for the gentleman from +Connecticut, who did not appear on the floor for a week, +fearing the scorpion tongue of the old Commoner.</p> +<p>A Congress which found it could make and unmake +laws in defiance of the Executive went mad. Taxation +soared to undreamed heights, while the currency was depreciated +and subject to the wildest fluctuations.</p> +<p>The statute books were loaded with laws that shackled +chains of monopoly on generations yet unborn. Public +lands wide as the reach of empires were voted as gifts to +private corporations, and subsidies of untold millions +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +fixed as a charge upon the people and their children’s +children.</p> +<p>The demoralization incident to a great war, the waste +of unheard-of sums of money, the giving of contracts involving +millions by which fortunes were made in a night, +the riot of speculation and debauchery by those who +tried to get rich suddenly without labour, had created a +new Capital of the Nation. The vulture army of the base, +venal, unpatriotic, and corrupt, which had swept down, +a black cloud, in wartime to take advantage of the misfortunes +of the Nation, had settled in Washington and +gave new tone to its life.</p> +<p>Prior to the Civil War the Capital was ruled, and the +standards of its social and political life fixed, by an aristocracy +founded on brains, culture, and blood. Power +was with few exceptions intrusted to an honourable +body of high-spirited public officials. Now a negro +electorate controlled the city government, and gangs +of drunken negroes, its sovereign citizens, paraded the +streets at night firing their muskets unchallenged and +unmolested.</p> +<p>A new mob of onion-laden breath, mixed with perspiring +African odour, became the symbol of American +Democracy.</p> +<p>A new order of society sprouted in this corruption. +The old high-bred ways, tastes, and enthusiasms were +driven into the hiding-places of a few families and cherished +as relics of the past.</p> +<p>Washington, choked with scrofulous wealth, bowed the +knee to the Almighty Dollar. The new altar was covered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +with a black mould of human blood—but no questions +were asked.</p> +<p>A mulatto woman kept the house of the foremost man +of the Nation and received his guests with condescension.</p> +<p>In this atmosphere of festering vice and gangrene passions, +the struggle between the Great Commoner and the +President on which hung the fate of the South approached +its climax.</p> +<p>The whole Nation was swept into the whirlpool, and +business was paralyzed. Two years after the close of a +victorious war the credit of the Republic dropped until +its six per cent. bonds sold in the open market for seventy-three +cents on the dollar.</p> +<p>The revolutionary junta in control of the Capital was +within a single step of the subversion of the Government +and the establishment of a Dictator in the White +House.</p> +<p>A convention was called in Philadelphia to restore +fraternal feeling, heal the wounds of war, preserve the +Constitution, and restore the Union of the fathers. It +was a grand assemblage representing the heart and brain +of the Nation. Members of Lincoln’s first Cabinet, +protesting Senators and Congressmen, editors of great +Republican and Democratic newspapers, heroes of both +armies, long estranged, met for a common purpose. When +a group of famous negro worshippers from Boston suddenly +entered the hall, arm in arm with ex-slaveholders +from South Carolina, the great meeting rose and walls and +roof rang with thunder peals of applause.</p> +<p>Their committee, headed by a famous editor, journeyed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +to Washington to appeal to the Master at the Capitol. +They sought him not in the White House, but in the +little Black House in an obscure street on the hill.</p> +<p>The brown woman received them with haughty dignity, +and said:</p> +<p>“Mr. Stoneman cannot be seen at this hour. It is +after nine o’clock. I will submit to him your request for +an audience to-morrow morning.”</p> +<p>“We must see him to-night,” replied the editor, with +rising anger.</p> +<p>“The king is amusing himself,” said the yellow woman, +with a touch of malice.</p> +<p>“Where is he?”</p> +<p>Her catlike eyes rolled from side to side, and a smile +played about her full lips as she said:</p> +<p>“You will find him at Hall & Pemberton’s gambling +hell—you’ve lived in Washington. You know the +way.”</p> +<p>With a muttered oath the editor turned on his heel and +led his two companions to the old Commoner’s favourite +haunt. There could be no better time or place to approach +him than seated at one of its tables laden with rare +wines and savoury dishes.</p> +<p>On reaching the well-known number of Hall & Pemberton’s +place, the editor entered the unlocked door, +passed with his friends along the soft-carpeted hall, and +ascended the stairs. Here the door was locked. A sudden +pull of the bell, and a pair of bright eyes peeped +through a small grating in the centre of the door revealed +by the sliding of its panel. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span></p> +<p>The keen eyes glanced at the proffered card, the door +flew open, and a well-dressed mulatto invited them with +cordial welcome to enter.</p> +<p>Passing along another hall, they were ushered into a +palatial suite of rooms furnished in princely state. The +floors were covered with the richest and softest carpets—so +soft and yielding that the tramp of a thousand feet +could not make the faintest echo. The walls and ceilings +were frescoed by the brush of a great master, and hung +with works of art worth a king’s ransom. Heavy curtains, +in colours of exquisite taste, masked each window, +excluding all sound from within or without.</p> +<p>The rooms blazed with light from gorgeous chandeliers +of trembling crystals, shimmering and flashing from the +ceilings like bouquets of diamonds.</p> +<p>Negro servants, faultlessly dressed, attended the slightest +want of every guest with the quiet grace and courtesy +of the lost splendours of the old South.</p> +<p>The proprietor, with courtly manners, extended his +hand:</p> +<p>“Welcome, gentlemen; you are my guests. The tables +and the wines are at your service without price. Eat, +drink, and be merry—play or not, as you please.”</p> +<p>A smile lighted his dark eyes, but faded out near his +mouth—cold and rigid.</p> +<p>At the farther end of the last room hung the huge painting +of a leopard, so vivid and real its black and tawny +colours, so furtive and wild its restless eyes, it seemed +alive and moving behind invisible bars.</p> +<p>Just under it, gorgeously set in its jewel-studded frame, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +stood the magic green table on which men staked their +gold and lost their souls.</p> +<p>The rooms were crowded with Congressmen, Government +officials, officers of the Army and Navy, clerks, +contractors, paymasters, lobbyists, and professional +gamblers.</p> +<p>The centre of an admiring group was a Congressman +who had during the last session of the House broken the +“bank” in a single night, winning more than a hundred +thousand dollars. He had lost it all and more in two +weeks, and the courteous proprietor now held orders for +the lion’s share of the total pay and mileage of nearly +every member of the House of Representatives.</p> +<p>Over that table thousands of dollars of the people’s +money had been staked and lost during the war by +quartermasters, paymasters, and agents in charge of public +funds. Many a man had approached that green table +with a stainless name and left it a perjured thief. Some +had been carried out by those handsomely dressed waiters, +and the man with the cold mouth could point out, +if he would, more than one stain on the soft carpet which +marked the end of a tragedy deeper than the pen of romancer +has ever sounded.</p> +<p>Stoneman at the moment was playing. He was rarely +a heavy player, but he had just staked a twenty-dollar +gold piece and won fourteen hundred dollars.</p> +<p>Howle, always at his elbow ready for a “sleeper” or a +stake, said:</p> +<p>“Put a stack on the ace.”</p> +<p>He did so, lost, and repeated it twice. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span></p> +<p>“Do it again,” urged Howle. “I’ll stake my reputation +that the ace wins this time.”</p> +<p>With a doubting glance at Howle, old Stoneman shoved +a stack of blue chips, worth fifty dollars, over the ace, +playing it to win on Howle’s judgment and reputation. +It lost.</p> +<p>Without the ghost of a smile, the old statesman said: +“Howle, you owe me five cents.”</p> +<p>As he turned abruptly on his club foot from the +table, he encountered the editor and his friends, a Western +manufacturer and a Wall Street banker. They were +soon seated at a table in a private room, over a dinner of +choice oysters, diamond-back terrapin, canvas-back duck, +and champagne.</p> +<p>They presented their plea for a truce in his fight until +popular passion had subsided.</p> +<p>He heard them in silence. His answer was characteristic:</p> +<p>“The will of the people, gentlemen, is supreme,” he +said with a sneer. “We are the people. ‘The man at +the other end of the avenue’ has dared to defy the will +of Congress. He must go. If the Supreme Court lifts +a finger in this fight, it will reduce that tribunal to one +man or increase it to twenty at our pleasure.”</p> +<p>“But the Constitution——” broke in the chairman.</p> +<p>“There are higher laws than paper compacts. We +are conquerors treading conquered soil. Our will alone +is the source of law. The drunken boor who claims to +be President is in reality an alien of a conquered province.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span></p> +<p>“We protest,” exclaimed the man of money, “against +the use of such epithets in referring to the Chief Magistrate +of the Republic!”</p> +<p>“And why, pray?” sneered the Commoner.</p> +<p>“In the name of common decency, law, and order. The +President is a man of inherent power, even if he did learn +to read after his marriage. Like many other Americans, +he is a self-made man——”</p> +<p>“Glad to hear it,” snapped Stoneman. “It relieves +Almighty God of a fearful responsibility.”</p> +<p>They left him in disgust and dismay.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_TOSSED_BY_THE_STORM' id='X_TOSSED_BY_THE_STORM'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Tossed by the Storm</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>As the storm of passion raised by the clash between +her father and the President rose steadily to the +sweep of a cyclone, Elsie felt her own life but a +leaf driven before its fury.</p> +<p>Her only comfort she found in Phil, whose letters to her +were full of love for Margaret. He asked Elsie a thousand +foolish questions about what she thought of his +chances.</p> +<p>To her own confessions he was all sympathy.</p> +<p>“Of father’s wild scheme of vengeance against the +South,” he wrote, “I am heartsick. I hate it on principle, +to say nothing of a girl I know. I am with General +Grant for peace and reconciliation. What does your +lover think of it all? I can feel your anguish. The bill to +rob the Southern people of their land, which I hear is +pending, would send your sweetheart and mine, our +enemies, into beggared exile. What will happen in the +South? Riot and bloodshed, of course—perhaps a guerilla +war of such fierce and terrible cruelty humanity sickens at +the thought. I fear the Rebellion unhinged our father’s +reason on some things. He was too old to go to the front; +the cannon’s breath would have cleared the air and sweetened +his temper. But its healing was denied. I believe +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +the tawny leopardess who keeps his house influences him +in this cruel madness. I could wring her neck with exquisite +pleasure. Why he allows her to stay and cloud +his life with her she-devil temper and fog his name with +vulgar gossip is beyond me.”</p> +<p>Seated in the park on the Capitol hill the day after her +father had introduced his Confiscation Bill in the House, +pending the impeachment of the President, she again attempted +to draw Ben out as to his feelings on politics.</p> +<p>She waited in sickening fear and bristling pride for the +first burst of his anger which would mean their separation.</p> +<p>“How do I feel?” he asked. “Don’t feel at all. The +surrender of General Lee was an event so stunning, my +mind has not yet staggered past it. Nothing much can +happen after that, so it don’t matter.”</p> +<p>“Negro suffrage don’t matter?”</p> +<p>“No. We can manage the negro,” he said calmly.</p> +<p>“With thousands of your own people disfranchised?”</p> +<p>“The negroes will vote with us, as they worked for us +during the war. If they give them the ballot, they’ll wish +they hadn’t.”</p> +<p>Ben looked at her tenderly, bent near, and whispered:</p> +<p>“Don’t waste your sweet breath talking about such +things. My politics is bounded on the North by a pair +of amber eyes, on the South by a dimpled little chin, on +the East and West by a rosy cheek. Words do not frame +its speech. Its language is a mere sign, a pressure of the +lips—yet it thrills body and soul beyond all words.”</p> +<p>Elsie leaned closer, and looking at the Capitol, said +wistfully: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span></p> +<p>“I don’t believe you know anything that goes on in +that big marble building.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I do.”</p> +<p>“What happened there yesterday?”</p> +<p>“You honoured it by putting your beautiful feet on its +steps. I saw the whole huge pile of cold marble suddenly +glow with warm sunlight and flash with beauty as you +entered it.”</p> +<p>The girl nestled still closer to his side, feeling her utter +helplessness in the rapids of the Niagara through which +they were being whirled by blind and merciless forces. +For the moment she forgot all fears in his nearness and the +sweet pressure of his hand.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XI_THE_SUPREME_TEST' id='XI_THE_SUPREME_TEST'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Supreme Test</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>It is the glory of the American Republic that every +man who has filled the office of President has grown +in stature when clothed with its power and has +proved himself worthy of its solemn trust. It is our +highest claim to the respect of the world and the vindication +of man’s capacity to govern himself.</p> +<p>The impeachment of President Andrew Johnson would +mark either the lowest tide-mud of degradation to which +the Republic could sink, or its end. In this trial our +system would be put to its severest strain. If a partisan +majority in Congress could remove the Executive and +defy the Supreme Court, stability to civic institutions +was at an end, and the breath of a mob would become the +sole standard of law.</p> +<p>Congress had thrown to the winds the last shreds of +decency in its treatment of the Chief Magistrate. Stoneman +led this campaign of insult, not merely from feelings +of personal hate, but because he saw that thus the President’s +conviction before the Senate would become all but +inevitable.</p> +<p>When his messages arrived from the White House +they were thrown into the waste-basket without being +read, amid jeers, hisses, curses, and ribald laughter. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span></p> +<p>In lieu of their reading, Stoneman would send to the +Clerk’s desk an obscene tirade from a party newspaper, +and the Clerk of the House would read it amid the +mocking groans, laughter, and applause of the floor and +galleries.</p> +<p>A favourite clipping described the President as “an insolent +drunken brute, in comparison with whom Caligula’s +horse was respectable.”</p> +<p>In the Senate, whose members were to sit as sworn +judges to decide the question of impeachment, Charles +Sumner used language so vulgar that he was called to +order. Sustained by the Chair and the Senate, he repeated +it with increased violence, concluding with cold +venom:</p> +<p>“Andrew Johnson has become the successor of Jefferson +Davis. In holding him up to judgment I do not +dwell on his beastly intoxication the day he took the oath +as Vice-president, nor do I dwell on his maudlin speeches +by which he has degraded the country, nor hearken to the +reports of pardons sold, or of personal corruption. +These things are bad. But he has usurped the powers +of Congress.”</p> +<p>Conover, the perjured wretch, in prison for his crimes +as a professional witness in the assassination trial, now +circulated the rumour that he could give evidence that +President Johnson was the assassin of Lincoln. Without +a moment’s hesitation, Stoneman’s henchmen sent a petition +to the President for the pardon of this villain that +he might turn against the man who had pardoned him +and swear his life away! This scoundrel was borne in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +triumph from prison to the Capitol and placed before the +Impeachment Committee, to whom he poured out his +wondrous tale.</p> +<p>The sewers and prisons were dragged for every scrap +of testimony to be found, and the day for the trial approached.</p> +<p>As it drew nearer, excitement grew intense. Swarms of +adventurers expecting the overthrow of the Government +crowded into Washington. Dreams of honours, profits, +and division of spoils held riot. Gamblers thronged the +saloons and gaming-houses, betting their gold on the +President’s head.</p> +<p>Stoneman found the business more serious than even +his daring spirit had dreamed. His health suddenly gave +way under the strain, and he was put to bed by his physician +with the warning that the least excitement would be +instantly fatal.</p> +<p>Elsie entered the little Black House on the hill for the +first time since her trip at the age of twelve, some eight +years before. She installed an army nurse, took charge +of the place, and ignored the existence of the brown +woman, refusing to speak to her or permit her to enter +her father’s room.</p> +<p>His illness made it necessary to choose an assistant to +conduct the case before the High Court. There was but +one member of the House whose character and ability +fitted him for the place—General Benj. F. Butler, of +Massachusetts, whose name was enough to start a riot in +any assembly in America.</p> +<p>His selection precipitated a storm at the Capitol. A +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +member leaped to his feet on the floor of the House and +shouted:</p> +<p>“If I were to characterize all that is pusillanimous in +war, inhuman in peace, forbidden in morals, and corrupt +in politics, I could name it in one word—Butlerism!”</p> +<p>For this speech he was ordered to apologize, and when +he refused with scorn they voted that the Speaker publicly +censure him. The Speaker did so, but winked at the +offender while uttering the censure.</p> +<p>John A. Bingham, of Ohio, who had been chosen for +his powers of oratory to make the principal speech against +the President, rose in the House and indignantly refused +to serve on the Board of Impeachment with such a man.</p> +<p>General Butler replied with crushing insolence:</p> +<p>“It is true, Mr. Speaker, that I may have made an +error of judgment in trying to blow up Fort Fisher with +a powder ship at sea. I did the best I could with the +talents God gave me. An angel could have done no more. +At least I bared my own breast in my country’s defence—a +thing the distinguished gentleman who insults me has +not ventured to do—his only claim to greatness being +that, behind prison walls, on perjured testimony, his +fervid eloquence sent an innocent American mother +screaming to the gallows.”</p> +<p>The fight was ended only by an order from the old +Commoner’s bed to Bingham to shut his mouth and +work with Butler. When the President had been +crushed, then they could settle Kilkenny-cat issues. +Bingham obeyed.</p> +<p>When the august tribunal assembled in the Senate +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +Chamber, fifty-five Senators, presided over by Salmon +P. Chase, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, constituted +the tribunal. They took their seats in a semicircle in +front of the Vice-president’s desk at which the Chief +Justice sat. Behind them crowded the one hundred +and ninety members of the House of Representatives, the +accusers of the ruler of the mightiest Republic in human +history. Every inch of space in the galleries was crowded +with brilliantly dressed men and women, army officers +in gorgeous uniforms, and the pomp and splendour of the +ministers of every foreign court of the world. In spectacular +grandeur no such scene was ever before witnessed +in the annals of justice.</p> +<p>The peculiar personal appearance of General Butler, +whose bald head shone with insolence while his eye +seemed to be winking over his record as a warrior and +making fun of his fellow-manager Bingham, added a +touch of humour to the solemn scene.</p> +<p>The magnificent head of the Chief Justice suggested +strange thoughts to the beholder. He had been summoned +but the day before to try Jefferson Davis for the +treason of declaring the Southern States out of the Union. +To-day he sat down to try the President of the United +States for declaring them to be in the Union! He had +protested with warmth that he could not conduct both +these trials at once.</p> +<p>The Chief Justice took oath to “do impartial justice +according to the Constitution and the laws,” and to the +chagrin of Sumner administered this oath to each Senator +in turn. When Benjamin F. Wade’s name was called, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span> +Hendricks, of Indiana, objected to his sitting as judge. +He could succeed temporarily to the Presidency, as the +presiding officer of the Senate, and his own vote might +decide the fate of the accused and determine his own +succession. The law forbids the Vice-president to sit on +such trials. It should apply with more vigour in his +case. Besides, he had without a hearing already pronounced +the President guilty.</p> +<p>Sumner, forgetting his motion to prevent Stockton’s +voting against his own expulsion, flew to the defence of +Wade. Hendricks smilingly withdrew his objection, and +“Bluff Ben Wade” took the oath and sat down to judge +his own cause with unruffled front.</p> +<p>When the case was complete, the whole bill of indictment +stood forth a tissue of stupid malignity without a +shred of evidence to support its charges.</p> +<p>On the last day of the trial, when the closing speeches +were being made, there was a stir at the door. The +throng of men, packing every inch of floor space, were +pushed rudely aside. The crowd craned their necks, +Senators turned and looked behind them to see what the +disturbance meant, and the Chief Justice rapped for order.</p> +<p>Suddenly through the dense mass appeared the forms +of two gigantic negroes carrying an old man. His grim +face, white and rigid, and his big club foot hanging +pathetically from those black arms, could not be mistaken. +A thrill of excitement swept the floor and galleries, +and a faint cheer rippled the surface, quickly +suppressed by the gavel.</p> +<p>The negroes placed him in an armchair facing the semicircle +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +of Senators, and crouched down on their haunches +beside him. Their kinky heads, black skin, thick lips, +white teeth, and flat noses made for the moment a +curious symbolic frame for the chalk-white passion of the +old Commoner’s face.</p> +<p>No sculptor ever dreamed a more sinister emblem of +the corruption of a race of empire builders than this +group. Its black figures, wrapped in the night of four +thousand years of barbarism, squatted there the “equal” +of their master, grinning at his forms of justice, the evolution +of forty centuries of Aryan genius. To their brute +strength the white fanatic in the madness of his hate had +appealed, and for their hire he had bartered the birthright +of a mighty race of freemen.</p> +<p>The speaker hurried to his conclusion that the half-fainting +master might deliver his message. In the meanwhile +his eyes, cold and thrilling, sought the secrets of the +souls of the judges before him.</p> +<p>He had not come to plead or persuade. He had +eluded the vigilance of his daughter and nurse, escaped +with the aid of the brown woman and her black allies, and +at the peril of his life had come to command. Every +energy of his indomitable will he was using now to keep +from fainting. He felt that if he could but look those men +in the face they would not dare to defy his word.</p> +<p>He shambled painfully to his feet amid a silence that +was awful. Again the sheer wonder of the man’s personality +held the imagination of the audience. His audacity, +his fanaticism, and the strange contradictions of his character +stirred the mind of friend and foe alike—this man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +who tottered there before them, holding off Death with +his big ugly left hand, while with his right he clutched at +the throat of his foe! Honest and dishonest, cruel and +tender, great and mean, a party leader who scorned +public opinion, a man of conviction, yet the most unscrupulous +politician, a philosopher who preached the +equality of man, yet a tyrant who hated the world and +despised all men!</p> +<p>His very presence before them an open defiance of love +and life and death, would not his word ring omnipotent +when the verdict was rendered? Every man in the great +courtroom believed it as he looked on the rows of Senators +hanging on his lips.</p> +<p>He spoke at first with unnatural vigour, a faint flush of +fever lighting his white face, his voice quivering yet penetrating.</p> +<p>“Upon that man among you who shall dare to acquit +the President,” he boldly threatened, “I hurl the everlasting +curse of a Nation—an infamy that shall rive and +blast his children’s children until they shrink from their +own name as from the touch of pollution!”</p> +<p>He gasped for breath, his restless hands fumbled at his +throat, he staggered and would have fallen had not his +black guards caught him. He revived, pushed them back +on their haunches, and sat down. And then, with his big +club foot thrust straight in front of him, his gnarled hands +gripping the arms of his chair, the massive head shaking +back and forth like a wounded lion, he continued his +speech, which grew in fierce intensity with each laboured +breath. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span></p> +<p>The effect was electrical. Every Senator leaned forward +to catch the lowest whisper, and so awful was the +suspense in the galleries the listeners grew faint.</p> +<p>When this last mad challenge was hurled into the teeth +of the judges, the dazed crowd paused for breath and the +galleries burst into a storm of applause.</p> +<p>In vain the Chief Justice rose, his lionlike face livid +with anger, pounded for order, and commanded the galleries +to be cleared.</p> +<p>They laughed at him. Roar after roar was the answer. +The Chief Justice in loud angry tones ordered the Sergeant-at-Arms +to clear the galleries.</p> +<p>Men leaned over the rail and shouted in his face:</p> +<p>“He can’t do it!”</p> +<p>“He hasn’t got men enough!”</p> +<p>“Let him try if he dares!”</p> +<p>The doorkeepers attempted to enforce order by +announcing it in the name of the peace and dignity and +sovereign power of the Senate over its sacred chamber. +The crowd had now become a howling mob which jeered +them.</p> +<p>Senator Grimes, of Iowa, rose and demanded the reason +why the Senate was thus insulted and the order had not +been enforced.</p> +<p>A volley of hisses greeted his question.</p> +<p>The Chief Justice, evidently quite nervous, declared +the order would be enforced.</p> +<p>Senator Trumbull, of Illinois, moved that the offenders +be arrested.</p> +<p>In reply the crowd yelled: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span></p> +<p>“We’d like to see you do it!”</p> +<p>At length the mob began to slowly leave the galleries +under the impression that the High Court had adjourned.</p> +<p>Suddenly a man cried out:</p> +<p>“Hold on! They ain’t going to adjourn. Let’s see it +out!”</p> +<p>Hundreds took their seats again. In the corridors a +crowd began to sing in wild chorus:</p> +<p>“Old Grimes is dead, that poor old man.” The women +joined with glee. Between the verses the leader would +curse the Iowa Senator as a traitor and copperhead. +The singing could be distinctly heard by the Court as +its roar floated through the open doors.</p> +<p>When the Senate Chamber had been cleared and the +most disgraceful scene that ever occurred within its +portals had closed, the High Court Impeachment went +into secret session to consider the evidence and its verdict.</p> +<p>Within an hour from its adjournment it was known to +the Managers that seven Republican Senators were +doubtful, and that they formed a group under the leadership +of two great constitutional lawyers who still believed +in the sanctity of a judge’s oath—Lyman Trumbull, of +Illinois, and William Pitt Fessenden, of Maine. Around +them had gathered Senators Grimes, of Iowa, Van +Winkle, of West Virginia, Fowler, of Tennessee, Henderson, +of Missouri, and Ross, of Kansas. The Managers +were in a panic. If these men dared to hold together with +the twelve Democrats, the President would be acquitted +by one vote—they could count thirty-four certain for conviction. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span></p> +<p>The Revolutionists threw to the winds the last scruple +of decency, went into caucus and organized a conspiracy +for forcing, within the few days which must pass before +the verdict, these judges to submit to their decree.</p> +<p>Fessenden and Trumbull were threatened with impeachment +and expulsion from the Senate and bombarded +by the most furious assaults from the press, which +denounced them as infamous traitors, “as mean, repulsive, +and noxious as hedgehogs in the cages of a travelling +menagerie.”</p> +<p>A mass meeting was held in Washington which said:</p> +<p>“Resolved, that we impeach Fessenden, Trumbull, and +Grimes at the bar of justice and humanity, as traitors before +whose guilt the infamy of Benedict Arnold becomes +respectability and decency.”</p> +<p>The Managers sent out a circular telegram to every +State from which came a doubtful judge:</p> +<p>“Great danger to the peace of the country if impeachment +fails. Send your Senators public opinion by resolutions, +letters, and delegates.”</p> +<p>The man who excited most wrath was Ross, of Kansas. +That Kansas of all States should send a “traitor” was +more than the spirits of the Revolutionists could bear.</p> +<p>A mass meeting in Leavenworth accordingly sent him +the telegram:</p> +<p>“Kansas has heard the evidence and demands the conviction +of the President.</p> +<p>“D. R. <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Anthony</span> and 1,000 others.”</p> +<p>To this Ross replied:</p> +<p>“I have taken an oath to do impartial justice. I trust +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +I shall have the courage and honesty to vote according +to the dictates of my judgment and for the highest good +of my country.”</p> +<p>He got his answer:</p> +<p>“Your motives are Indian contracts and greenbacks. +Kansas repudiates you as she does all perjurers and +skunks.”</p> +<p>The Managers organized an inquisition for the purpose +of torturing and badgering Ross into submission. His +one vote was all they lacked.</p> +<p>They laid siege to little Vinnie Ream, the sculptress, +to whom Congress had awarded a contract for the statue +of Lincoln. Her studio was in the crypt of the Capitol. +They threatened her with the wrath of Congress, the +loss of her contract, and ruin of her career unless she +found a way to induce Senator Ross, whom she knew, +to vote against the President.</p> +<p>Such an attempt to gain by fraud the verdict of a common +court of law would have sent its promoters to prison +for felony. Yet the Managers of this case, before the +highest tribunal of the world, not only did it without a +blush of shame, but cursed as a traitor every man who +dared to question their motives.</p> +<p>As the day approached for the Court to vote, Senator +Ross remained to friend and foe a sealed mystery. Reporters +swarmed about him, the target of a thousand eyes. +His rooms were besieged by his radical constituents who +had been imported from Kansas in droves to browbeat +him into a promise to convict. His movements day and +night, his breakfast, his dinner, his supper, the clothes he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +wore, the colour of his cravat, his friends and companions, +were chronicled in hourly bulletins and flashed over the +wires from the delirious Capital.</p> +<p>Chief Justice Chase called the High Court of Impeachment +to order, to render its verdict. Old Stoneman had +again been carried to his chair in the arms of two negroes, +and sat with his cold eyes searching the faces of the +judges.</p> +<p>The excitement had reached the highest pitch of intensity. +A sense of choking solemnity brooded over the +scene. The feeling grew that the hour had struck which +would test the capacity of man to establish an enduring +Republic.</p> +<p>The Clerk read the Eleventh Article, drawn by the +Great Commoner as the supreme test.</p> +<p>As its last words died away the Chief Justice rose +amid a silence that was agony, placed his hands on the +sides of the desk as if to steady himself, and said:</p> +<p>“Call the roll.”</p> +<p>Each Senator answered “Guilty” or “Not Guilty,” +exactly as they had been counted by the Managers, until +Fessenden’s name was called.</p> +<p>A moment of stillness and the great lawyer’s voice rang +high, cold, clear, and resonant as a Puritan church bell on +Sunday morning:</p> +<p>“Not Guilty!”</p> +<p>A murmur, half groan and sigh, half cheer and cry, +rippled the great hall.</p> +<p>The other votes were discounted now save that of +Edmund G. Ross, of Kansas. No human being on earth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +knew what this man would do save the silent invisible +man within his soul.</p> +<p>Over the solemn trembling silence the voice of the +Chief Justice rang:</p> +<p>“Senator Ross, how say you? Is the respondent, +Andrew Johnson, guilty or not guilty of a high misdemeanor +as charged in this article?”</p> +<p>The great Judge bent forward; his brow furrowed as +Ross arose.</p> +<p>His fellow Senators watched him spellbound. A thousand +men and women, hanging from the galleries, focused +their eyes on him. Old Stoneman drew his bristling +brows down, watching him like an adder ready to +strike, his lower lip protruding, his jaws clinched as a +vise, his hands fumbling the arms of his chair.</p> +<p>Every breath is held, every ear strained, as the answer +falls from the sturdy Scotchman like the peal of a trumpet:</p> +<p>“Not Guilty!”</p> +<p>The crowd breathes—a pause, a murmur, the shuffle +of a thousand feet——</p> +<p>The President is acquitted, and the Republic lives!</p> +<p>The House assembled and received the report of the +verdict. Old Stoneman pulled himself half erect, holding +to his desk, addressed the Speaker, introduced his +second bill for the impeachment of the President, and +fell fainting in the arms of his black attendants.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII_TRIUMPH_IN_DEFEAT' id='XII_TRIUMPH_IN_DEFEAT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Triumph in Defeat</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Upon the failure to convict the President, Edwin +M. Stanton resigned, sank into despair and +died, and a soldier Secretary of War opened +the prison doors.</p> +<p>Ben Cameron and his father hurried Southward to a +home and land passing under a cloud darker than the +dust and smoke of blood-soaked battlefields—the Black +Plague of Reconstruction.</p> +<p>For two weeks the old Commoner wrestled in silence +with Death. When at last he spoke, it was to the stalwart +negroes who had called to see him and were standing +by his bedside.</p> +<p>Turning his deep-sunken eyes on them a moment, he +said slowly:</p> +<p>“I wonder whom I’ll get to carry me when you boys +die!”</p> +<p>Elsie hurried to his side and kissed him tenderly. For +a week his mind hovered in the twilight that lies between +time and eternity. He seemed to forget the passions and +fury of his fierce career and live over the memories of his +youth, recalling pathetically its bitter poverty and its +fair dreams. He would lie for hours and hold Elsie’s +hand, pressing it gently. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span></p> +<p>In one of his lucid moments he said:</p> +<p>“How beautiful you are, my child! You shall be a +queen. I’ve dreamed of boundless wealth for you and +my boy. My plans are Napoleonic—and I shall not +fail—never fear—aye, beyond the dreams of avarice!”</p> +<p>“I wish no wealth save the heart treasure of those I +love, father,” was the soft answer.</p> +<p>“Of course, little day-dreamer. But the old cynic who +has outlived himself and knows the mockery of time and +things will be wisdom for your foolishness. You shall +keep your toys. What pleases you shall please me. Yet +I will be wise for us both.”</p> +<p>She laid her hand upon his lips, and he kissed the warm +little fingers.</p> +<p>In these days of soul-nearness the iron heart softened +as never before in love toward his children. Phil had +hurried home from the West and secured his release from +the remaining weeks of his term of service.</p> +<p>As the father lay watching them move about the room, +the cold light in his deep-set wonderful eyes would melt +into a soft glow.</p> +<p>As he grew stronger, the old fierce spirit of the unconquered +leader began to assert itself. He would take up +the fight where he left it off and carry it to victory.</p> +<p>Elsie and Phil sent the doctor to tell him the truth and +beg him to quit politics.</p> +<p>“Your work is done; you have but three months to live +unless you go South and find new life,” was the verdict.</p> +<p>“In either event I go to a warmer climate, eh, doctor?” +said the cynic. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span></p> +<p>“Perhaps,” was the laughing reply.</p> +<p>“Good. It suits me better. I’ve had the move in +mind. I can do more effective work in the South for the +next two years. Your decision is fate. I’ll go at once.”</p> +<p>The doctor was taken aback.</p> +<p>“Come now,” he said persuasively. “Let a disinterested +Englishman give you some advice. You’ve never +taken any before. I give it as medicine, and I won’t put +it on your bill. Slow down on politics. Your recent +defeat should teach you a lesson in conservatism.”</p> +<p>The old Commoner’s powerful mouth became rigid, +and the lower lip bulged:</p> +<p>“Conservatism—fossil putrefaction!”</p> +<p>“But defeat?”</p> +<p>“Defeat?” cried the old man. “Who said I was defeated? +The South lies in ashes at my feet—the very +names of her proud States blotted from history. The +Supreme Court awaits my nod. True, there’s a man +boarding in the White House, and I vote to pay his bills; +but the page who answers my beck and call has more +power. Every measure on which I’ve set my heart is +law, save one—my Confiscation Act—and this but waits +the fulness of time.”</p> +<p>The doctor, who was walking back and forth with his +hands folded behind him, paused and said:</p> +<p>“I marvel that a man of your personal integrity could +conceive such a measure; you, who refused to accept +the legal release of your debts until the last farthing was +paid—you, whose cruelty of the lip is hideous, and yet +beneath it so gentle a personality, I’ve seen the pages in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +the House stand at your back and mimic you while speaking, +secure in the smile with which you turned to greet +their fun. And yet you press this crime upon a brave +and generous foe?”</p> +<p>“A wrong can have no rights,” said Stoneman calmly. +“Slavery will not be dead until the landed aristocracy on +which it rested is destroyed. I am not cruel or unjust. +I am but fulfilling the largest vision of universal democracy +that ever stirred the soul of man—a democracy that +shall know neither rich nor poor, bond nor free, white nor +black. If I use the wild pulse-beat of the rage of millions, +it is only a means to an end—this grander vision of +the soul.”</p> +<p>“Then why not begin at home this vision, and give the +stricken South a moment to rise?”</p> +<p>“No. The North is impervious to change, rich, proud, +and unscathed by war. The South is in chaos and cannot +resist. It is but the justice and wisdom of Heaven +that the negro shall rule the land of his bondage. It is +the only solution of the race problem. Lincoln’s contention +that we could not live half white and half black +is sound at the core. When we proclaim equality, social, +political, and economic for the negro, we mean always to +enforce it in the South. The negro will never be treated +as an equal in the North. We are simply a set of cold-blooded +liars on that subject, and always have been. To +the Yankee the very physical touch of a negro is pollution.”</p> +<p>“Then you don’t believe this twaddle about equality?” +asked the doctor. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></p> +<p>“Yes and no. Mankind in the large is a herd of mercenary +gudgeons or fools. As a lawyer in Pennsylvania +I have defended fifty murderers on trial for their lives. +Forty-nine of them were guilty. All these I succeeded in +acquitting. One of them was innocent. This one they +hung. Can a man keep his face straight in such a world? +Could negro blood degrade such stock? Might not an ape +improve it? I preach equality as a poet and seer who sees +a vision beyond the rim of the horizon of to-day.”</p> +<p>The old man’s eyes shone with the set stare of a fanatic.</p> +<p>“And you think the South is ready for this wild vision?”</p> +<p>“Not ready, but helpless to resist. As a cold-blooded, +scientific experiment, I mean to give the Black Man one +turn at the Wheel of Life. It is an act of just retribution. +Besides, in my plans I need his vote; and that settles it.”</p> +<p>“But will your plans work? Your own reports show +serious trouble in the South already.”</p> +<p>Stoneman laughed.</p> +<p>“I never read my own reports. They are printed in +molasses to catch flies. The Southern legislatures played +into my hands by copying the laws of New England relating +to Servants, Masters, Apprentices, and Vagrants. +But even these were repealed at the first breath of criticism. +Neither the Freedman’s Bureau nor the army has +ever loosed its grip on the throat of the South for a moment. +These disturbances and ‘atrocities’ are dangerous +only when printed on campaign fly-paper.”</p> +<p>“And how will you master and control these ten great +Southern States?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span></p> +<p>“Through my Reconstruction Acts by means of the +Union League. As a secret between us, I am the soul of +this order. I organized it in 1863 to secure my plan of +confiscation. We pressed it on Lincoln. He repudiated +it. We nominated Frémont at Cleveland against Lincoln +in ’64, and tried to split the party or force Lincoln +to retire. Frémont, a conceited ass, went back on this +plank in our platform, and we dropped him and helped +elect Lincoln again.”</p> +<p>“I thought the Union League a patriotic and social +organization?” said the doctor in surprise.</p> +<p>“It has these features, but its sole aim as a secret order +is to confiscate the property of the South. I will perfect +this mighty organization until every negro stands drilled +in serried line beneath its banners, send a solid delegation +here to do my bidding, and return at the end of two years +with a majority so overwhelming that my word will be +law. I will pass my Confiscation Bill. If Ulysses S. +Grant, the coming idol, falters, my second bill of Impeachment +will only need the change of a name.”</p> +<p>The doctor shook his head.</p> +<p>“Give up this madness. Your life is hanging by a +thread. The Southern people even in their despair will +never drink this black broth you are pressing to their +lips.”</p> +<p>“They’ve got to drink it.”</p> +<p>“Your decision is unalterable?”</p> +<p>“Absolutely. It’s the breath I breathe. As my physician +you may select the place to which I shall be banished. +It must be reached by rail and wire. I care not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +its name or size. I’ll make it the capital of the Nation. +There’ll be poetic justice in setting up my establishment +in a fallen slaveholder’s mansion.”</p> +<p>The doctor looked intently at the old man:</p> +<p>“The study of men has become a sort of passion with +me, but you are the deepest mystery I’ve yet encountered +in this land of surprises.”</p> +<p>“And why?” asked the cynic.</p> +<p>“Because the secret of personality resides in motives, +and I can’t find yours either in your actions or words.”</p> +<p>Stoneman glanced at him sharply from beneath his +wrinkled brows and snapped.</p> +<p>“Keep on guessing.”</p> +<p>“I will. In the meantime I’m going to send you to +the village of Piedmont, South Carolina. Your son and +daughter both seem enthusiastic over this spot.”</p> +<p>“Good; that settles it. And now that mine own have +been conspiring against me,” said Stoneman confidentially, +“a little guile on my part. Not a word of what +has passed between us to my children. Tell them I agree +with your plans and give up my work. I’ll give the same +story to the press—I wish nothing to mar their happiness +while in the South. My secret burdens need not +cloud their young lives.”</p> +<p>Dr. Barnes took the old man by the hand:</p> +<p>“I promise. My assistant has agreed to go with you. +I’ll say good-bye. It’s an inspiration to look into a face +like yours, lit by the splendour of an unconquerable will! +But I want to say something to you before you set out on +this journey.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span></p> +<p>“Out with it,” said the Commoner.</p> +<p>“The breed to which the Southern white man belongs +has conquered every foot of soil on this earth their feet +have pressed for a thousand years. A handful of them +hold in subjection three hundred millions in India. Place +a dozen of them in the heart of Africa, and they will rule +the continent unless you kill them——”</p> +<p>“Wait,” cried Stoneman, “until I put a ballot in the +hand of every negro and a bayonet at the breast of every +white man from the James to the Rio Grande!”</p> +<p>“I’ll tell you a little story,” said the doctor with a smile. +“I once had a half-grown eagle in a cage in my yard. The +door was left open one day, and a meddlesome rooster +hopped in to pick a fight. The eagle had been sick a +week and seemed an easy mark. I watched. The rooster +jumped and wheeled and spurred and picked pieces out +of his topknot. The young eagle didn’t know at first +what he meant. He walked around dazed, with a hurt +expression. When at last it dawned on him what the +chicken was about, he simply reached out one claw, +took the rooster by the neck, planted the other claw in his +breast, and snatched his head off.”</p> +<p>The old man snapped his massive jaws together and +grunted contemptuously. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span></p> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>Book III—The Reign of Terror</p> +</div> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_A_FALLEN_SLAVEHOLDER_S_MANSION' id='I_A_FALLEN_SLAVEHOLDER_S_MANSION'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Fallen Slaveholder’s Mansion</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Piedmont, South Carolina, which Elsie and Phil +had selected for reasons best known to themselves +as the place of retreat for their father, was a +favourite summer resort of Charleston people before the +war.</p> +<p>Ulster county, of which this village was the capital, +bordered on the North Carolina line, lying alongside the +ancient shore of York. It was settled by the Scotch folk +who came from the North of Ireland in the great migrations +which gave America three hundred thousand people +of Covenanter martyr blood, the largest and most important +addition to our population, larger in number than +either the Puritans of New England or the so-called +Cavaliers of Virginia and Eastern Carolina; and far more +important than either, in the growth of American nationality.</p> +<p>To a man they had hated Great Britain. Not a Tory +was found among them. The cries of their martyred +dead were still ringing in their souls when George III +started on his career of oppression. The fiery words of +Patrick Henry, their spokesman in the valley of Virginia, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +had swept the aristocracy of the Old Dominion into rebellion +against the King and on into triumphant Democracy. +They had made North Carolina the first home of +freedom in the New World, issued the first Declaration of +Independence in Mecklenburg, and lifted the first banner +of rebellion against the tyranny of the Crown.</p> +<p>They grew to the soil wherever they stopped, always +home lovers and home builders, loyal to their own people, +instinctive clan leaders and clan followers. A sturdy, +honest, covenant-keeping, God-fearing, fighting people, +above all things they hated sham and pretence. They +never boasted of their families, though some of them might +have quartered the royal arms of Scotland on their shields.</p> +<p>To these sturdy qualities had been added a strain of +Huguenot tenderness and vivacity.</p> +<p>The culture of cotton as the sole industry had fixed +African slavery as their economic system. With the heritage +of the Old World had been blended forces inherent in +the earth and air of the new Southland, something of the +breath of its unbroken forests, the freedom of its untrod +mountains, the temper of its sun, and the sweetness of its +tropic perfumes.</p> +<p>When Mrs. Cameron received Elsie’s letter, asking her +to secure for them six good rooms at the “Palmetto” +hotel, she laughed. The big rambling hostelry had been +burned by roving negroes, pigs were wallowing in the sulphur +springs, and along its walks, where lovers of olden +days had strolled, the cows were browsing on the shrubbery.</p> +<p>But she laughed for a more important reason. They +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +had asked for a six-room cottage if accommodations could +not be had in the hotel.</p> +<p>She could put them in the Lenoir place. The cotton +crop from their farm had been stolen from the gin—the +cotton tax of $200 could not be paid, and a mortgage was +about to be foreclosed on both their farm and home. She +had been brooding over their troubles in despair. The +Stonemans’ coming was a godsend.</p> +<p>Mrs. Cameron was helping them set the house in order +to receive the new tenants.</p> +<p>“I declare,” said Mrs. Lenoir gratefully. “It seems +too good to be true. Just as I was about to give up—the +first time in my life—here came those rich Yankees and +with enough rent to pay the interest on the mortgages and +our board at the hotel. I’ll teach Margaret to paint, and +she can give Marion lessons on the piano. The darkest +hour’s just before day. And last week I cried when they +told me I must lose the farm.”</p> +<p>“I was heartsick over it for you.”</p> +<p>“You know, the farm was my dowry with the dozen +slaves Papa gave us on our wedding-day. The negroes +did as they pleased, yet we managed to live and were very +happy.”</p> +<p>Marion entered and placed a bouquet of roses on the +table, touching them daintily until she stood each flower +apart in careless splendour. Their perfume, the girl’s wistful +dreamy blue eyes and shy elusive beauty, all seemed a +part of the warm sweet air of the June morning. Mrs. +Lenoir watched her lovingly.</p> +<p>“Mamma, I’m going to put flowers in every room. I’m +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +sure they haven’t such lovely ones in Washington,” said +Marion eagerly, as she skipped out.</p> +<p>The two women moved to the open window, through +which came the drone of bees and the distant music of the +river falls.</p> +<p>“Marion’s greatest charm,” whispered her mother, “is +in her way of doing things easily and gently without a +trace of effort. Watch her bend over to get that rose. Did +you ever see anything like the grace and symmetry of her +figure—she seems a living flower!”</p> +<p>“Jeannie, you’re making an idol of her——”</p> +<p>“Why not? With all our troubles and poverty, I’m +rich in her! She’s fifteen years old, her head teeming +with romance. You know, I was married at fifteen. +There’ll be a half dozen boys to see her to-night in our +new home—all of them head over heels in love with +her.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Jeannie, you must not be so silly! We should +worship God only.”</p> +<p>“Isn’t she God’s message to me and to the world?”</p> +<p>“But if anything should happen to her——”</p> +<p>The young mother laughed. “I never think of it. +Some things are fixed. Her happiness and beauty are to +me the sign of God’s presence.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’m glad you’re coming to live with us in the +heart of town. This place is a cosey nest, just such a one +as a poet lover would build here in the edge of these deep +woods, but it is too far out for you to be alone. Dr. +Cameron has been worrying about you ever since he came +home.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span></p> +<p>“I’m not afraid of the negroes. I don’t know one of +them who wouldn’t go out of his way to do me a favour. +Old Aleck is the only rascal I know among them, and he’s +too busy with politics now even to steal a chicken.”</p> +<p>“And Gus, the young scamp we used to own; you +haven’t forgotten him? He is back here, a member of +the company of negro troops, and parades before the +house every day to show off his uniform. Dr. Cameron +told him yesterday he’d thrash him if he caught him hanging +around the place again. He frightened Margaret +nearly to death when she went to the barn to feed her +horse.”</p> +<p>“I’ve never known the meaning of fear. We used to +roam the woods and fields together all hours of the day +and night: my lover, Marion, and I. This panic seems +absurd to me.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll be glad to get you two children under my +wing. I was afraid I’d find you in tears over moving from +your nest.”</p> +<p>“No, where Marion is I’m at home, and I’ll feel I’ve a +mother when I get with you.”</p> +<p>“Will you come to the hotel before they arrive?”</p> +<p>“No; I’ll welcome and tell them how glad I am they +have brought me good luck.”</p> +<p>“I’m delighted, Jeannie. I wished you to do this, but +I couldn’t ask it. I can never do enough for this old +man’s daughter. We must make their stay happy. They +say he’s a terrible old Radical politician, but I suppose +he’s no meaner than the others. He’s very ill, and she +loves him devotedly. He is coming here to find health, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +and not to insult us. Besides, he was kind to me. He +wrote a letter to the President. Nothing that I have will +be too good for him or for his. It’s very brave and sweet +of you to stay and meet them.”</p> +<p>“I’m doing it to please Marion. She suggested it last +night, sitting out on the porch in the twilight. She slipped +her arm around me and said:</p> +<p>“‘Mamma, we must welcome them and make them +feel at home. He is very ill. They will be tired and homesick. +Suppose it were you and I, and we were taking my +Papa to a strange place.’”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>When the Stonemans arrived, the old man was too ill +and nervous from the fatigue of the long journey to notice +his surroundings or to be conscious of the restful beauty +of the cottage into which they carried him. His room +looked out over the valley of the river for miles, and the +glimpse he got of its broad fertile acres only confirmed +his ideas of the “slaveholding oligarchy” it was his life-purpose +to crush. Over the mantel hung a steel engraving +of Calhoun. He fell asleep with his deep, sunken +eyes resting on it and a cynical smile playing about his +grim mouth.</p> +<p>Margaret and Mrs. Cameron had met the Stonemans +and their physician at the train, and taken Elsie and her +father in the old weather-beaten family carriage to the +Lenoir cottage, apologising for Ben’s absence.</p> +<p>“He has gone to Nashville on some important legal +business, and the doctor is ailing, but as the head of the +clan Cameron he told me to welcome your father to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +hospitality of the county, and beg him to let us know if he +could be of help.”</p> +<p>The old man, who sat in a stupor of exhaustion, made +no response, and Elsie hastened to say:</p> +<p>“We appreciate your kindness more than I can tell you, +Mrs. Cameron. I trust father will be better in a day or +two, when he will thank you. The trip has been more +than he could bear.”</p> +<p>“I am expecting Ben home this week,” the mother +whispered. “I need not tell you that he will be delighted +at your coming.”</p> +<p>Elsie smiled and blushed.</p> +<p>“And I’ll expect Captain Stoneman to see me very +soon,” said Margaret softly. “You will not forget to +tell him for me?”</p> +<p>“He’s a very retiring young man,” said Elsie, “and +pretends to be busy about our baggage just now. I’m +sure he will find the way.”</p> +<p>Elsie fell in love at sight with Marion and her mother. +Their easy genial manners, the genuineness of their welcome, +and the simple kindness with which they sought +to make her feel at home put her heart into a warm +glow.</p> +<p>Mrs. Lenoir explained the conveniences of the place +and apologized for its defects, the results of the war.</p> +<p>“I am sorry about the window curtains—we have +used them all for dresses. Marion is a genius with a +needle, and we took the last pair out of the parlour to +make a dress for a birthday party. The year before, we +used the ones in my room for a costume at a starvation +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +party in a benefit for our rector—you know we’re Episcopalians—strayed +up here for our health from Charleston +among these good Scotch Presbyterians.”</p> +<p>“We will soon place curtains at the windows,” said +Elsie cheerfully.</p> +<p>“The carpets were sent to the soldiers for blankets during +the war. It was all we could do for our poor boys, +except to cut my hair and sell it. You see my hair hasn’t +grown out yet. I sent it to Richmond the last year of the +war. I felt I must do something when my neighbours +were giving so much. You know Mrs. Cameron lost +four boys.”</p> +<p>“I prefer the floors bare,” Elsie replied. “We will +get a few rugs.”</p> +<p>She looked at the girlish hair hanging in ringlets about +Mrs. Lenoir’s handsome face, smiled pathetically, and +asked:</p> +<p>“Did you really make such sacrifices for your cause?”</p> +<p>“Yes, indeed. I was glad when the war was ended for +some things. We certainly needed a few pins, needles, +and buttons, to say nothing of a cup of coffee or tea.”</p> +<p>“I trust you will never lack for anything again,” said +Elsie kindly.</p> +<p>“You will bring us good luck,” Mrs. Lenoir responded. +“Your coming is so fortunate. The cotton tax Congress +levied was so heavy this year we were going to lose +everything. Such a tax when we are all about to starve! +Dr. Cameron says it was an act of stupid vengeance on +the South, and that no other farmers in America have +their crops taxed by the National Government. I am so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +glad your father has come. He is not hunting for an +office. He can help us, maybe.”</p> +<p>“I am sure he will,” answered Elsie thoughtfully.</p> +<p>Marion ran up the steps lightly, her hair dishevelled +and face flushed.</p> +<p>“Now, Mamma, it’s almost sundown; you get ready to +go. I want her awhile to show her about my things.”</p> +<p>She took Elsie shyly by the hand and led her into the +lawn, while her mother paid a visit to each room, and +made up the last bundle of odds and ends she meant to +carry to the hotel.</p> +<p>“I hope you will love the place as we do,” said the +girl simply.</p> +<p>“I think it very beautiful and restful,” Elsie replied. +“This wilderness of flowers looks like fairyland. You +have roses running on the porch around the whole length +of the house.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Papa was crazy over the trailing roses, and kept +planting them until the house seems just a frame built to +hold them, with a roof on it. But you can see the river +through the arches from three sides. Ben Cameron +helped me set that big beauty on the south corner the +day he ran away to the war——”</p> +<p>“The view is glorious!” Elsie exclaimed, looking in +rapture over the river valley.</p> +<p>The village of Piedmont crowned an immense hill on +the banks of the Broad River, just where it dashes +over the last stone barrier in a series of beautiful falls +and spreads out in peaceful glory through the plains toward +Columbia and the distant sea. The muffled roar +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +of these falls, rising softly through the trees on its wooded +cliff, held the daily life of the people in the spell of distant +music. In fair weather it soothed and charmed, and in +storm and freshet rose to the deep solemn growl of +thunder.</p> +<p>The river made a sharp bend as it emerged from the +hills and flowed westward for six miles before it turned +south again. Beyond this six-mile sweep of its broad +channel loomed the three ranges of the Blue Ridge Mountains, +the first one dark, rich, distinct, clothed in eternal +green, the last one melting in dim lines into the clouds +and soft azure of the sky.</p> +<p>As the sun began to sink now behind these distant +peaks, each cloud that hung about them burst into a +blazing riot of colour. The silver mirror of the river +caught their shadows, and the water glowed in sympathy.</p> +<p>As Elsie drank the beauty of the scene, the music of the +falls ringing its soft accompaniment, her heart went out +in a throb of love and pity for the land and its people.</p> +<p>“Can you blame us for loving such a spot?” said Marion. +“It’s far more beautiful from the cliff at Lover’s +Leap. I’ll take you there some day. My father used to +tell me that this world was Heaven, and that the spirits +would all come back to live here when sin and shame and +strife were gone.”</p> +<p>“Are your father’s poems published?” asked Elsie.</p> +<p>“Only in the papers. We have them clipped and +pasted in a scrapbook. I’ll show you the one about Ben +Cameron some day. You met him in Washington, didn’t +you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></p> +<p>“Yes,” said Elsie quietly.</p> +<p>“Then I know he made love to you.”</p> +<p>“Why?”</p> +<p>“You’re so pretty. He couldn’t help it.”</p> +<p>“Does he make love to every pretty girl?”</p> +<p>“Always. It’s his religion. But he does it so beautifully +you can’t help believing it, until you compare notes +with the other girls.”</p> +<p>“Did he make love to you?”</p> +<p>“He broke my heart when he ran away. I cried a +whole week. But I got over it. He seemed so big and +grown when he came home this last time. I was afraid +to let him kiss me.”</p> +<p>“Did he dare to try?”</p> +<p>“No, and it hurt my feelings. You see, I’m not quite +old enough to be serious with the big boys, and he looked +so brave and handsome with that ugly scar on the edge +of his forehead, and everybody was so proud of him. I +was just dying to kiss him, and I thought it downright +mean in him not to offer it.”</p> +<p>“Would you have let him?”</p> +<p>“I expected him to try.”</p> +<p>“He is very popular in Piedmont?”</p> +<p>“Every girl in town is in love with him.”</p> +<p>“And he in love with all?”</p> +<p>“He pretends to be—but between us, he’s a great flirt. +He’s gone to Nashville now on some pretended business. +Goodness only knows where he got the money to go. I +believe there’s a girl there.”</p> +<p>“Why?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span></p> +<p>“Because he was so mysterious about his trip. I’ll +keep an eye on him at the hotel. You know Margaret, +too, don’t you?”</p> +<p>“Yes; we met her in Washington.”</p> +<p>“Well, she’s the slyest flirt in town—it runs in the +blood—has a half-dozen beaux to see her every day. She +plays the organ in the Presbyterian Sunday school, and +the young minister is dead in love with her. They say +they are engaged. I don’t believe it. I think it’s another +one. But I must hurry, I’ve so much to show and +tell you. Come here to the honeysuckle——”</p> +<p>Marion drew the vines apart from the top of the fence +and revealed a mocking-bird on her nest.</p> +<p>“She’s setting. Don’t let anything hurt her. I’d push +her off and show you her speckled eggs, but it’s so late.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I wouldn’t hurt her for the world!” cried Elsie +with delight.</p> +<p>“And right here,” said Marion, bending gracefully +over a tall bunch of grass, “is a pee-wee’s nest, four darling +little eggs; look out for that.”</p> +<p>Elsie bent and saw the pretty nest perched on stems of +grass, and over it the taller leaves drawn to a point.</p> +<p>“Isn’t it cute!” she murmured.</p> +<p>“Yes; I’ve six of these and three mocking-bird nests. +I’ll show them to you. But the most particular one of +all is the wren’s nest in the fork of the cedar, close to the +house.”</p> +<p>She led Elsie to the tree, and about two feet from the +ground, in the forks of the trunk, was a tiny hole from +which peeped the eyes of a wren. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span></p> +<p>“Whatever you do, don’t let anything hurt her. Her +mate sings ‘<i>Free-nigger! Free-nigger! Free-nigger!</i>’ +every morning in this cedar.”</p> +<p>“And you think we will specially enjoy that?” asked +Elsie, laughing.</p> +<p>“Now, really,” cried Marion, taking Elsie’s hand, +“you know I couldn’t think of such a mean joke. I forgot +you were from the North. You seem so sweet and +homelike. He really does sing that way. You will hear +him in the morning, bright and early, ‘<i>Free-nigger! Free-nigger! +Free-nigger!</i>’ just as plain as I’m saying it.”</p> +<p>“And did you learn to find all these birds’ nests by +yourself?”</p> +<p>“Papa taught me. I’ve got some jay-birds and some +cat-birds so gentle they hop right down at my feet. Some +people hate jay-birds. But I like them, they seem to be +having such a fine time and enjoy life so. You don’t +mind jay-birds, do you?”</p> +<p>“I love every bird that flies.”</p> +<p>“Except hawks and owls and buzzards——”</p> +<p>“Well, I’ve seen so few I can’t say I’ve anything particular +against them.”</p> +<p>“Yes, they eat chickens—except the buzzards, and +they’re so ugly and filthy. Now, I’ve a chicken to show +you—please don’t let Aunt Cindy—she’s to be your cook—please +don’t let her kill him—he’s crippled—has something +the matter with his foot. He was born that way. +Everybody wanted to kill him, but I wouldn’t let them. +I’ve had an awful time raising him, but he’s all right +now.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span></p> +<p>Marion lifted a box and showed her the lame pet, softly +clucking his protest against the disturbance of his rest.</p> +<p>“I’ll take good care of <i>him</i>, never fear,” said Elsie, with +a tremor in her voice.</p> +<p>“And I have a queer little black cat I wanted to show +you, but he’s gone off somewhere. I’d take him with +me—only it’s bad luck to move cats. He’s awful wild—won’t +let anybody pet him but me. Mamma says he’s an +imp of Satan—but I love him. He runs up a tree when +anybody else tries to get him. But he climbs right up on +my shoulder. I never loved any cat quite as well as this +silly, half-wild one. You don’t mind black cats, do you?”</p> +<p>“No, dear; I like cats.”</p> +<p>“Then I know you’ll be good to him.”</p> +<p>“Is that all?” asked Elsie, with amused interest.</p> +<p>“No, I’ve the funniest yellow dog that comes here at +night to pick up the scraps and things. He isn’t my dog—just +a little personal friend of mine—but I like him very +much, and always give him something. He’s very cute. +I think he’s a nigger dog.”</p> +<p>“A nigger dog? What’s that?”</p> +<p>“He belongs to some coloured people, who don’t give +turn enough to eat. I love him because he’s so faithful +to his own folks. He comes to see me at night and pretends +to love me, but as soon as I feed him he trots back +home. When he first came, I laughed till I cried at his +antics over a carpet—we had a carpet then. He never +saw one before, and barked at the colours and the figures +in the pattern. Then he’d lie down and rub his back +on it and growl. You won’t let anybody hurt him?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span></p> +<p>“No. Are there any others?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I ’most forgot. If Sam Ross comes—Sam’s an +idiot who lives at the poorhouse—if he comes, he’ll expect +a dinner—my, my, I’m afraid he’ll cry when he finds +we’re not here! But you can send him to the hotel to me. +Don’t let Aunt Cindy speak rough to him. Aunt Cindy’s +awfully good to me, but she can’t bear Sam. She thinks +he brings bad luck.”</p> +<p>“How on earth did you meet him?”</p> +<p>“His father was rich. He was a good friend of my +Papa’s. We came near losing our farm once, because a +bank failed. Mr. Ross sent Papa a signed check on his +own bank, and told him to write the amount he needed on +it, and pay him when he was able. Papa cried over it, +and wouldn’t use it, and wrote a poem on the back of the +check—one of the sweetest of all, I think. In the war +Mr. Ross lost his two younger sons, both killed at Gettysburg. +His wife died heartbroken, and he only lived a +year afterward. He sold his farm for Confederate money +and everything was lost. Sam was sent to the poorhouse. +He found out somehow that we loved him and comes to +see us. He’s as harmless as a kitten, and works in the +garden beautifully.”</p> +<p>“I’ll remember,” Elsie promised.</p> +<p>“And one thing more,” she said hesitatingly. +“Mamma asked me to speak to you of this—that’s +why she slipped away. There one little room we have +locked. It was Papa’s study just as he left it, with his +papers scattered on the desk, the books and pictures that +he loved—you won’t mind?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span></p> +<p>Elsie slipped her arm about Marion, looked into the +blue eyes, dim with tears, drew her close and said:</p> +<p>“It shall be sacred, my child. You must come every +day if possible, and help me.”</p> +<p>“I will. I’ve so many beautiful places to show you +in the woods—places he loved, and taught us to see and +love. They won’t let me go in the woods any more alone. +But you have a big brother. That must be very sweet.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Lenoir hurried to Elsie.</p> +<p>“Come, Marion, we must be going now.”</p> +<p>“I am very sorry to see you leave the home you love so +dearly, Mrs. Lenoir,” said the Northern girl, taking her +extended hand. “I hope you can soon find a way to have +it back.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” replied the mother cheerily. “The +longer you stay, the better for us. You don’t know how +happy I am over your coming. It has lifted a load from +our hearts. In the liberal rent you pay us you are our +benefactors. We are very grateful and happy.”</p> +<p>Elsie watched them walk across the lawn to the street, +the daughter leaning on the mother’s arm. She followed +slowly and stopped behind one of the arbor-vitć bushes +beside the gate. The full moon had risen as the twilight +fell and flooded the scene with soft white light. A whippoorwill +struck his first plaintive note, his weird song +seeming to come from all directions and yet to be under +her feet. She heard the rustle of dresses returning along +the walk, and Marion and her mother stood at the gate. +They looked long and tenderly at the house. Mrs. Lenoir +uttered a broken sob, Marion slipped an arm around her, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +brushed the short curling hair back from her forehead, +and softly said:</p> +<p>“Mamma, dear, you know it’s best. I don’t mind. +Everybody in town loves us. Every boy and girl in +Piedmont worships you. We will be just as happy at the +hotel.”</p> +<p>In the pauses between the strange bird’s cry, Elsie +caught the sound of another sob, and then a soothing +murmur as of a mother bending over a cradle, and they +were gone.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_THE_EYES_OF_THE_JUNGLE' id='II_THE_EYES_OF_THE_JUNGLE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Eyes of the Jungle</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Elsie stood dreaming for a moment in the shadow +of the arbor-vitć, breathing the sensuous perfumed +air and listening to the distant music of +the falls, her heart quivering in pity for the anguish of +which she had been a witness. Again the spectral cry +of the whippoorwill rang near-by, and she noted for the +first time the curious cluck with which the bird punctuated +each call. A sense of dim foreboding oppressed her.</p> +<p>She wondered if the chatter of Marion about the girl +in Nashville were only a child’s guess or more. She +laughed softly at the absurdity of the idea. Never since +she had first looked into Ben Cameron’s face did she feel +surer of the honesty and earnestness of his love than to-day +in this quiet home of his native village. It must be +the queer call of the bird which appealed to superstitions +she did not know were hidden within her being.</p> +<p>Still dreaming under its spell, she was startled at the +tread of two men approaching the gate.</p> +<p>The taller, more powerful-looking man put his hand +on the latch and paused.</p> +<p>“Allow no white man to order you around. Remember +you are a freeman and as good as any pale-face who walks +this earth.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span></p> +<p>She recognized the voice of Silas Lynch.</p> +<p>“Ben Cameron dare me to come about de house,” said +the other voice.</p> +<p>“What did he say?”</p> +<p>“He say, wid his eyes batten’ des like lightnen’, ‘Ef I +ketch you hangin’ ’roun’ dis place agin’, Gus, I’ll jump +on you en stomp de life outen ye.’”</p> +<p>“Well, you tell him that your name is Augustus, not +‘Gus,’ and that the United States troops quartered in this +town will be with him soon after the stomping begins. +You wear its uniform. Give the white trash in this town +to understand that they are not even citizens of the +nation. As a sovereign voter, you, once their slave, are +not only their equal—you are their master.”</p> +<p>“Dat I will!” was the firm answer.</p> +<p>The negro to whom Lynch spoke disappeared in the +direction taken by Marion and her mother, and the figure +of the handsome mulatto passed rapidly up the walk, +ascended the steps and knocked at the door.</p> +<p>Elsie followed him.</p> +<p>“My father is too much fatigued with his journey to be +seen now; you must call to-morrow,” she said.</p> +<p>The negro lifted his hat and bowed:</p> +<p>“Ah, we are delighted to welcome you, Miss Stoneman, +to our land! Your father asked me to call immediately on +his arrival. I have but obeyed his orders.”</p> +<p>Elsie shrank from the familiarity of his manner and +the tones of authority and patronage with which he +spoke.</p> +<p>“He cannot be seen at this hour,” she answered shortly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span></p> +<p>“Perhaps you will present my card, then—say that I +am at his service, and let him appoint the time at which +I shall return?”</p> +<p>She did not invite him in, but with easy assurance he +took his seat on the joggle-board beside the door and +awaited her return.</p> +<p>Against her urgent protest, Stoneman ordered Lynch to +be shown at once to his bedroom.</p> +<p>When the door was closed, the old Commoner, without +turning to greet his visitor or moving his position in bed, +asked:</p> +<p>“Are you following my instructions?”</p> +<p>“To the letter, sir.”</p> +<p>“You are initiating the negroes into the League and +teaching them the new catechism?”</p> +<p>“With remarkable success. Its secrecy and ritual +appeal to them. Within six months we shall have the +whole race under our control almost to a man.”</p> +<p>“<i>Almost</i> to a man?”</p> +<p>“We find some so attached to their former masters that +reason is impossible with them. Even threats and the +promise of forty acres of land have no influence.”</p> +<p>The old man snorted with contempt.</p> +<p>“If anything could reconcile me to the Satanic Institution +it is the character of the wretches who submit to it +and kiss the hand that strikes. After all, a slave deserves +to be a slave. The man who is mean enough to wear +chains ought to wear them. You must teach, <i>teach</i>, +<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>TEACH</span> these black hounds to know they are men, not +brutes!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span></p> +<p>The old man paused a moment, and his restless hands +fumbled the cover.</p> +<p>“Your first task, as I told you in the beginning, is to +teach every negro to stand erect in the presence of his +former master and assert his manhood. Unless he does +this, the South will bristle with bayonets in vain. The +man who believes he is a dog, is one. The man who believes +himself a king, may become one. Stop this snivelling +and sneaking round the back doors. I can do nothing, +God Almighty can do nothing, for a coward. Fix this as +the first law of your own life. Lift up your head! The +world is yours. Take it. Beat this into the skulls of +your people, if you do it with an axe. Teach them the +military drill at once. I’ll see that Washington sends +the guns. The state, when under your control, can +furnish the powder.”</p> +<p>“It will surprise you to know the thoroughness with +which this has been done already by the League,” said +Lynch. “The white master believed he could vote the +negro as he worked him in the fields during the war. The +League, with its blue flaming altar, under the shadows +of night, has wrought a miracle. The negro is the enemy +of his former master and will be for all time.”</p> +<p>“For the present,” said the old man meditatively, +“not a word to a living soul as to my connection with this +work. When the time is ripe, I’ll show my hand.”</p> +<p>Elsie entered, protesting against her father’s talking +longer, and showed Lynch to the door.</p> +<p>He paused on the moonlit porch and tried to engage her +in familiar talk. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span></p> +<p>She cut him short, and he left reluctantly.</p> +<p>As he bowed his thick neck in pompous courtesy, she +caught with a shiver the odour of pomade on his black half-kinked +hair. He stopped on the lower step, looked back +with smiling insolence, and gazed intently at her beauty. +The girl shrank from the gleam of the jungle in his eyes +and hurried within.</p> +<p>She found her father sunk in a stupor. Her cry brought +the young surgeon hurrying into the room, and at the end +of an hour he said to Elsie and Phil:</p> +<p>“He has had a stroke of paralysis. He may lie in +mental darkness for months and then recover. His heart +action is perfect. Patience, care, and love will save him. +There is no cause for immediate alarm.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_AUGUSTUS_CSAR' id='III_AUGUSTUS_CSAR'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Augustus Cćsar</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Phil early found the home of the Camerons the +most charming spot in town. As he sat in the +old-fashioned parlour beside Margaret, his brain +seethed with plans for building a hotel on a large scale on +the other side of the Square and restoring her home intact.</p> +<p>The Cameron homestead was a large brick building +with an ample porch looking out directly on the Court +House Square, standing in the middle of a lawn full of +trees, flowers, shrubbery, and a wilderness of evergreen +boxwood planted fifty years before. It was located on the +farm from which it had always derived its support. The +farm extended up into the village itself, with the great +barn easily seen from the street.</p> +<p>Phil was charmed with the doctor’s genial personality. +He often found the father a decidedly easier person to get +along with than his handsome daughter. The Rev. +Hugh McAlpin was a daily caller, and Margaret had a +tantalizing way of showing her deference to his opinions.</p> +<p>Phil hated this preacher from the moment he laid eyes +on him. His pugnacious piety he might have endured +but for the fact that he was good-looking and eloquent. +When he rose in the pulpit in all his sacred dignity, fixed +his eyes on Margaret, and began in tenderly modulated +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +voice to tell about the love of God, Phil clinched his fist. +He didn’t care to join the Presbyterian church, but he +quietly made up his mind that, if it came to the worst +and she asked him, he would join anything. What made +him furious was the air of assurance with which the young +divine carried himself about Margaret, as if he had but to +say the word and it would be fixed as by a decree issued +from before the foundations of the world.</p> +<p>He was pleased and surprised to find that his being a +Yankee made no difference in his standing or welcome. +The people seemed unconscious of the part his father +played at Washington. Stoneman’s Confiscation Bill +had not yet been discussed in Congress, and the promise +of land to the negroes was universally regarded as a hoax +of the League to win their followers. The old Commoner +was not an orator. Hence his name was scarcely known +in the South. The Southern people could not conceive of +a great leader except one who expressed his power through +the megaphone of oratory. They held Charles Sumner +chiefly responsible for Reconstruction.</p> +<p>The fact that Phil was a Yankee who had no axe to +grind in the South caused the people to appeal to him in +a pathetic way that touched his heart. He had not been +in town two weeks before he was on good terms with +every youngster, had the entrée to every home, and Ben +had taken him, protesting vehemently, to see every pretty +girl there. He found that, in spite of war and poverty, +troubles present and troubles to come, the young Southern +woman was the divinity that claimed and received +the chief worship of man. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span></p> +<p>The tremendous earnestness with which these youngsters +pursued the work of courting, all of them so poor +they scarcely had enough to eat, amazed and alarmed +him beyond measure. He found in several cases as many +as four making a dead set for one girl, as if heaven and +earth depended on the outcome, while the girl seemed to +receive it all as a matter of course—her just tribute.</p> +<p>Every instinct of his quiet reserved nature revolted at +any such attempt to rush his cause with Margaret, and +yet it made the cold chills run down his spine to see that +Presbyterian preacher drive his buggy up to the hotel, +take her to ride, and stay three hours. He knew where +they had gone—to Lover’s Leap and along the beautiful +road which led to the North Carolina line. He knew the +way—Margaret had showed him. This road was the Way +of Romance. Every farmhouse, cabin, and shady nook +along its beaten track could tell its tale of lovers fleeing +from the North to find happiness in the haven of matrimony +across the line in South Carolina. Everything +seemed to favour marriage in this climate. The state +required no license. A legal marriage could be celebrated, +anywhere, at any time, by a minister in the presence of +two witnesses, with or without the consent of parent or +guardian. Marriage was the easiest thing in the state—divorce +the one thing impossible. Death alone could +grant divorce.</p> +<p>He was now past all reason in love. He followed the +movement of Margaret’s queenly figure with pathetic +abandonment. Beneath her beautiful manners he swore +with a shiver that she was laughing at him. Now and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +then he caught a funny expression about her eyes, as +if she were consumed with a sly sense of humour in her +love affairs.</p> +<p>What he felt to be his manliest traits, his reserve, dignity, +and moral earnestness, she must think cold and slow +beside the dash, fire, and assurance of these Southerners. +He could tell by the way she encouraged the preacher +before his eyes that she was criticizing and daring him +to let go for once. Instead of doing it, he sank back +appalled at the prospect and let the preacher carry +her off again.</p> +<p>He sought solace in Dr. Cameron, who was utterly +oblivious of his daughter’s love affairs.</p> +<p>Phil was constantly amazed at the variety of his knowledge, +the genuineness of his culture, his modesty, and the +note of youth and cheer with which he still pursued the +study of medicine.</p> +<p>His company was refreshing for its own sake. The +slender graceful figure, ruddy face, with piercing, dark-brown +eyes in startling contrast to his snow-white hair +and beard, had for Phil a perpetual charm. He never +tired listening to his talk, and noting the peculiar grace +and dignity with which he carried himself, unconscious +of the commanding look of his brilliant eyes.</p> +<p>“I hear that you have used hypnotism in your +practice, Doctor,” Phil said to him one day, as he +watched with fascination the changing play of his mobile +features.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes! used it for years. Southern doctors have +always been pioneers in the science of medicine. Dr. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span> +Crawford Long, of Georgia, you know, was the first practitioner +in America to apply anesthesia to surgery.”</p> +<p>“But where did you run up against hypnotism? I +thought this a new thing under the sun?”</p> +<p>The doctor laughed.</p> +<p>“It’s not a home industry, exactly. I became interested +in it in Edinburgh while a medical student, and +pursued it with increased interest in Paris.”</p> +<p>“Did you study medicine abroad?” Phil asked in +surprise.</p> +<p>“Yes; I was poor, but I managed to raise and to borrow +enough to take three years on the other side. I put +all I had and all my credit in it. I’ve never regretted the +sacrifice. The more I saw of the great world, the better +I liked my own world. I’ve given these farmers and their +families the best God gave to me.”</p> +<p>“Do you find much use for your powers of hypnosis?” +Phil asked.</p> +<p>“Only in an experimental way. Naturally I am +endowed with this gift—especially over certain classes +who are easily the subjects of extreme fear. I owned a +rascally slave named Gus whom I used to watch stealing. +Suddenly confronting him, I’ve thrown him into unconsciousness +with a steady gaze of the eye, until he would +drop on his face, trembling like a leaf, unable to speak +until I allowed him.”</p> +<p>“How do you account for such powers?”</p> +<p>“I don’t account for them at all. They belong to the +world of spiritual phenomena of which we know so little +and yet which touch our material lives at a thousand +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +points every day. How do we account for sleep and +dreams, or second sight, or the day dreams which we call +visions?”</p> +<p>Phil was silent, and the doctor went on dreamily:</p> +<p>“The day my boy Richard was killed at Gettysburg, I +saw him lying dead in a field near a house. I saw some +soldiers bury him in the corner of that field, and then an +old man go to the grave, dig up his body, cart it away into +the woods, and throw it into a ditch. I saw it before I +heard of the battle or knew that he was in it. He was +reported killed, and his body has never been found. It is +the one unspeakable horror of the war to me. I’ll never +get over it.”</p> +<p>“How very strange!” exclaimed Phil.</p> +<p>“And yet the war was nothing, my boy, to the horrors +I feel clutching the throat of the South to-day. I’m glad +you and your father are down here. Your disinterested +view of things may help us at Washington when we need +it most. The South seems to have no friend at court.”</p> +<p>“Your younger men, I find, are hopeful, Doctor,” said +Phil.</p> +<p>“Yes, the young never see danger until it’s time to die. +I’m not a pessimist, but I was happier in jail. Scores of +my old friends have given up in despair and died. Delicate +and cultured women are living on cowpeas, corn +bread, and molasses—and of such quality they would not +have fed it to a slave. Children go to bed hungry. +Droves of brutal negroes roam at large, stealing, murdering, +and threatening blacker crimes. We are under +the heel of petty military tyrants, few of whom ever +smelled gunpowder in a battle. At the approaching +election, not a decent white man in this country can take +the infamous test oath. I am disfranchised because I +gave a cup of water to the lips of one of my dying boys on +the battlefield. My slaves are all voters. There will be +a negro majority of more than one hundred thousand in +this state. Desperadoes are here teaching these negroes +insolence and crime in their secret societies. The future +is a nightmare.”</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-214.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 395px; height: 585px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 395px;'> +HENRY WALTHALL AS BEN CAMERON.<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span></div> +<p>“You have my sympathy, sir,” said Phil warmly, extending +his hand. “These Reconstruction Acts, conceived +in sin and brought forth in iniquity, can bring only +shame and disgrace until the last trace of them is wiped +from our laws. I hope it will not be necessary to do it in +blood.”</p> +<p>The doctor was deeply touched. He could not be mistaken +in the genuineness of any man’s feeling. He never +dreamed this earnest straightforward Yankee youngster +was in love with Margaret, and it would have made no +difference in the accuracy of his judgment.</p> +<p>“Your sentiments do you honour, sir,” he said with +grave courtesy. “And you honour us and our town with +your presence and friendship.”</p> +<p>As Phil hurried home in a warm glow of sympathy for +the people whose hospitality had made him their friend +and champion, he encountered a negro trooper standing +on the corner, watching the Cameron house with furtive +glance.</p> +<p>Instinctively he stopped, surveyed the man from head +to foot and asked: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span></p> +<p>“What’s the trouble?”</p> +<p>“None er yo’ business,” the negro answered, slouching +across to the opposite side of the street.</p> +<p>Phil watched him with disgust. He had the short, +heavy-set neck of the lower order of animals. His skin +was coal black, his lips so thick they curled both ways up +and down with crooked blood marks across them. His +nose was flat, and its enormous nostrils seemed in perpetual +dilation. The sinister bead eyes, with brown +splotches in their whites, were set wide apart and gleamed +apelike under his scant brows. His enormous cheekbones +and jaws seemed to protrude beyond the ears +and almost hide them.</p> +<p>“That we should send such soldiers here to flaunt our +uniform in the faces of these people!” he exclaimed, with +bitterness.</p> +<p>He met Ben hurrying home from a visit to Elsie. The +two young soldiers whose prejudices had melted in the +white heat of battle had become fast friends.</p> +<p>Phil laughed and winked:</p> +<p>“I’ll meet you to-night around the family altar!”</p> +<p>When he reached home, Ben saw, slouching in front of +the house, walking back and forth and glancing furtively +behind him, the negro trooper whom his friend had +passed.</p> +<p>He walked quickly in front of him, and blinking his +eyes rapidly, said:</p> +<p>“Didn’t I tell you, Gus, not to let me catch you hanging +around this house again?”</p> +<p>The negro drew himself up, pulling his blue uniform +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span> +into position as his body stretched out of its habitual +slouch, and answered:</p> +<p>“My name ain’t ‘Gus.’”</p> +<p>Ben gave a quick little chuckle and leaned back against +the palings, his hand resting on one that was loose. He +glanced at the negro carelessly and said:</p> +<p>“Well, Augustus Cćsar, I give your majesty thirty +seconds to move off the block.”</p> +<p>Gus’ first impulse was to run, but remembering himself +he threw back his shoulders and said:</p> +<p>“I reckon de streets free——”</p> +<p>“Yes, and so is kindling wood!”</p> +<p>Quick as a flash of lightning the paling suddenly left +the fence and broke three times in such bewildering rapidity +on the negro’s head he forgot everything he ever knew +or thought he knew save one thing—the way to run. He +didn’t fly, but he made remarkable use of the facilities +with which he had been endowed.</p> +<p>Ben watched him disappear toward the camp.</p> +<p>He picked up the pieces of paling, pulled a strand of +black wool from a splinter, looked at it curiously and said:</p> +<p>“A sprig of his majesty’s hair—I’ll doubtless remember +him without it!”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_AT_THE_POINT_OF_THE_BAYONET' id='IV_AT_THE_POINT_OF_THE_BAYONET'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>At the Point of the Bayonet</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Within an hour from Ben’s encounter he was +arrested without warrant by the military +commandant, handcuffed, and placed on the +train for Columbia, more than a hundred miles distant. +The first purpose of sending him in charge of a negro guard +was abandoned for fear of a riot. A squad of white troops +accompanied him.</p> +<p>Elsie was waiting at the gate, watching for his coming, +her heart aglow with happiness.</p> +<p>When Marion and little Hugh ran to tell the exciting +news, she thought it a joke and refused to believe it.</p> +<p>“Come, dear, don’t tease me; you know it’s not true!”</p> +<p>“I wish I may die if ’tain’t so!” Hugh solemnly declared. +“He run Gus away ’cause he scared Aunt Margaret +so. They come and put handcuffs on him and took +him to Columbia. I tell you Grandpa and Grandma and +Aunt Margaret are mad!”</p> +<p>Elsie called Phil and begged him to see what had happened.</p> +<p>When Phil reported Ben’s arrest without a warrant, and +the indignity to which he had been subjected on the +amazing charge of resisting military authority, Elsie hurried +with Marion and Hugh to the hotel to express her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +indignation, and sent Phil to Columbia on the next train +to fight for his release.</p> +<p>By the use of a bribe Phil discovered that a special inquisition +had been hastily organized to procure perjured +testimony against Ben on the charge of complicity in the +murder of a carpet-bag adventurer named Ashburn, who +had been killed at Columbia in a row in a disreputable +resort. This murder had occurred the week Ben +Cameron was in Nashville. The enormous reward of +$25,000 had been offered for the conviction of any man +who could be implicated in the killing. Scores of venal +wretches, eager for this blood money, were using +every device of military tyranny to secure evidence on +which to convict—no matter who the man might be. +Within six hours of his arrival they had pounced on +Ben.</p> +<p>They arrested as a witness an old negro named John +Stapler, noted for his loyalty to the Camerons. The +doctor had saved his life once in a dangerous illness. +They were going to put him to torture and force him to +swear that Ben Cameron had tried to bribe him to kill +Ashburn. General Howle, the Commandant of the Columbia +district, was in Charleston on a visit to headquarters.</p> +<p>Phil resorted to the ruse of pretending, as a Yankee, the +deepest sympathy for Ashburn, and by the payment of a +fee of twenty dollars to the Captain, was admitted to the +fort to witness the torture.</p> +<p>They led the old man trembling into the presence of the +Captain, who sat on an improvised throne in full uniform. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span></p> +<p>“Have you ordered a barber to shave this man’s head?” +sternly asked the judge.</p> +<p>“Please, Marster, fer de Lawd’s sake, I ain’ done +nuttin‘—doan’ shave my head. Dat ha’r been wropped +lak dat fur ten year! I die sho’ ef I lose my ha’r.”</p> +<p>“Bring the barber, and take him back until he comes,” +was the order. In an hour they led him again into the +room blindfolded, and placed him in a chair.</p> +<p>“Have you let him see a preacher before putting +him through?” the Captain asked. “I have an order +from the General in Charleston to put him through to-day.”</p> +<p>“For Gawd’s sake, Marster, doan’ put me froo—I ain’t +done nuttin’ en I doan’ know nuttin’!”</p> +<p>The old negro slipped to his knees, trembling from head +to foot.</p> +<p>The guards caught him by the shoulders and threw him +back into the chair. The bandage was removed, and just +in front of him stood a brass cannon pointed at his head, +a soldier beside it holding the string ready to pull. John +threw himself backward, yelling:</p> +<p>“Goddermighty!”</p> +<p>When he scrambled to his feet and started to run, another +cannon swung on him from the rear. He dropped +to his knees and began to pray.</p> +<p>“Yas, Lawd, I’se er comin’. I hain’t ready—but, +Lawd, I got ter come! Save me!”</p> +<p>“Shave him!” the Captain ordered.</p> +<p>While the old man sat moaning, they lathered his head +with two scrubbing-brushes and shaved it clean. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span></p> +<p>“Now stand him up by the wall and measure him for +his coffin,” was the order.</p> +<p>They snatched him from the chair, pushed him against +the wall, and measured him. While they were taking his +measure, the man next to him whispered:</p> +<p>“Now’s the time to save your hide—tell all about Ben +Cameron trying to hire you to kill Ashburn.”</p> +<p>“Give him a few minutes,” said the Captain, “and +maybe we can hear what Mr. Cameron said about Ashburn.”</p> +<p>“I doan’ know nuttin’, General,” pleaded the old +darkey. “I ain’t heard nuttin’—I ain’t seed Marse Ben +fer two monts.”</p> +<p>“You needn’t lie to us. The rebels have been posting +you. But it’s no use. We’ll get it out of you.”</p> +<p>“‘Fo’ Gawd, Marster, I’se telling de truf!”</p> +<p>“Put him in the dark cell and keep him there the balance +of his life unless he tells,” was the order.</p> +<p>At the end of four days, Phil was summoned again to +witness the show.</p> +<p>John was carried to another part of the fort and shown +the sweat-box.</p> +<p>“Now tell all you know or in you go!” said his tormentor.</p> +<p>The negro looked at the engine of torture in abject terror—a +closet in the walls of the fort just big enough to +admit the body, with an adjustable top to press down too +low for the head to be held erect. The door closed tight +against the breast of the victim. The only air admitted +was through an auger-hole in the door. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span></p> +<p>The old man’s lips moved in prayer.</p> +<p>“Will you tell?” growled the Captain.</p> +<p>“I cain’t tell ye nuttin’ ‘cept’n’ a lie!” he moaned.</p> +<p>They thrust him in, slammed the door, and in a loud +voice the Captain said:</p> +<p>“Keep him there for thirty days unless he tells.”</p> +<p>He was left in the agony of the sweat-box for thirty-three +hours and taken out. His limbs were swollen and +when he attempted to walk he tottered and fell.</p> +<p>The guard jerked him to his feet, and the Captain said:</p> +<p>“I’m afraid we’ve taken him out too soon, but if he +don’t tell he can go back and finish the month out.”</p> +<p>The poor old negro dropped in a faint, and they carried +him back to his cell.</p> +<p>Phil determined to spare no means, fair or foul, to +secure Ben’s release from the clutches of these devils. He +had as yet been unable to locate his place of confinement.</p> +<p>He continued his ruse of friendly curiosity, kept in +touch with the Captain, and the Captain in touch with +his pocketbook.</p> +<p>Summoned to witness another interesting ceremony, he +hurried to the fort.</p> +<p>The officer winked at him confidentially, and took him +out to a row of dungeons built of logs and ceiled inside +with heavy boards. A single pane of glass about eight +inches square admitted light ten feet from the ground.</p> +<p>There was a commotion inside, curses, groans, and cries +for mercy mingling in rapid succession.</p> +<p>“What is it?” asked Phil.</p> +<p>“Hell’s goin’ on in there!” laughed the officer. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span></p> +<p>“Evidently.”</p> +<p>A heavy crash, as though a ton weight had struck the +floor, and then all was still.</p> +<p>“By George, it’s too bad we can’t see it all!” exclaimed +the officer.</p> +<p>“What does it mean?” urged Phil.</p> +<p>Again the Captain laughed immoderately.</p> +<p>“I’ve got a blue-blood in there taking the bluin’ out of +his system. He gave me some impudence. I’m teaching +him who’s running this country!”</p> +<p>“What are you doing to him?” Phil asked with a +sudden suspicion.</p> +<p>“Oh, just having a little fun! I put two big white +drunks in there with him—half-fighting drunks, you +know—and told them to work on his teeth and manicure +his face a little to initiate him into the ranks of the common +people, so to speak!”</p> +<p>Again he laughed.</p> +<p>Phil, listening at the keyhole, held up his hand:</p> +<p>“Hush, they’re talking——”</p> +<p>He could hear Ben Cameron’s voice in the softest drawl:</p> +<p>“Say it again.”</p> +<p>“Please, Marster!”</p> +<p>“Now both together, and a little louder!”</p> +<p>“<i>Please, Marster</i>,” came the united chorus.</p> +<p>“Now what kind of a dog did I say you are?”</p> +<p>“The kind as comes when his marster calls.”</p> +<p>“Both together—the under dog seems to have too much +cover, like his mouth might be full of cotton.”</p> +<p>They repeated it louder. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span></p> +<p>“A common—stump-tailed—cur-dog?”</p> +<p>“Yessir.”</p> +<p>“Say it.”</p> +<p>“A common—stump-tailed—cur-dog—Marster!”</p> +<p>“A pair of them.”</p> +<p>“A pair of ’em.”</p> +<p>“No, the whole thing—all together—‘we—are—a—pair!’”</p> +<p>“Yes—Marster.” They repeated it in chorus.</p> +<p>“With apologies to the dogs——”</p> +<p>“Apologies to the dogs——”</p> +<p>“And why does your master honour the kennel with his +presence to-day?”</p> +<p>“He hit a nigger on the head so hard that he strained +the nigger’s ankle, and he’s restin’ from his labours.”</p> +<p>“That’s right, Towser. If I had you and Tige a few +hours every day I could make good squirrel-dogs out of +you.”</p> +<p>There was a pause. Phil looked up and smiled.</p> +<p>“What does it sound like?” asked the Captain, with a +shade of doubt in his voice.</p> +<p>“Sounds to me like a Sunday-school teacher taking his +class through a new catechism.”</p> +<p>The Captain fumbled hurriedly for his keys.</p> +<p>“There’s something wrong in there.”</p> +<p>He opened the door and sprang in.</p> +<p>Ben Cameron was sitting on top of the two toughs, knocking +their heads together as they repeated each chorus.</p> +<p>“Walk in, gentlemen. The show is going on now—the +animals are doing beautifully,” said Ben. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span></p> +<p>The Captain muttered an oath. Phil suddenly grasped +him by the throat, hurled him against the wall, and +snatched the keys from his hand.</p> +<p>“Now open your mouth, you white-livered cur, and +inside of twenty-four hours I’ll have you behind the bars. +I have all the evidence I need. I’m an ex-officer of the +United States Army, of the fighting corps—not the vulture +division. This is my friend. Accompany us to the +street and strike your charges from the record.”</p> +<p>The coward did as he was ordered, and Ben hurried +back to Piedmont with a friend toward whom he began +to feel closer than a brother.</p> +<p>When Elsie heard the full story of the outrage, she bore +herself toward Ben with unusual tenderness, and yet he +knew that the event had driven their lives farther apart. +He felt instinctively the cold silent eye of her father, and +his pride stiffened under it. The girl had never considered +the possibility of a marriage without her father’s +blessing. Ben Cameron was too proud to ask it. He +began to fear that the differences between her father and +his people reached to the deepest sources of life.</p> +<p>Phil found himself a hero at the Cameron House. Margaret +said little, but her bearing spoke in deeper language +than words. He felt it would be mean to take advantage +of her gratitude.</p> +<p>But he was quick to respond to the motherly tenderness +of Mrs. Cameron. In the groups of neighbours who +gathered in the evenings to discuss with the doctor the +hopes, fears, and sorrows of the people, Phil was a +charmed listener to the most brilliant conversations he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +had ever heard. It seemed the normal expression of their +lives. He had never before seen people come together +to talk to one another after this fashion. More and +more the simplicity, dignity, patience, courtesy, and +sympathy of these people in their bearing toward one +another impressed him. More and more he grew to like +them.</p> +<p>Marion went out of her way to express her open admiration +for Phil and tease him about Margaret. The Rev. +Hugh McAlpin was monopolizing her on the Wednesday +following his return from Columbia and Phil sought +Marion for sympathy.</p> +<p>“What will you give me if I tease you about Margaret +right before her?” she asked.</p> +<p>He blushed furiously.</p> +<p>“Don’t you dare such a thing on peril of your life!”</p> +<p>“You know you like to be teased about her,” she cried, +her blue eyes dancing with fun.</p> +<p>“With such a pretty little friend to do the teasing all by +ourselves, perhaps——”</p> +<p>“You’ll never get her unless you have more spunk.”</p> +<p>“Then I’ll find consolation with you.”</p> +<p>“No, I mean to marry young.”</p> +<p>“And your ideal of life?”</p> +<p>“To fill the world with flowers, laughter, and music—especially +my own home—and never do a thing I can +make my husband do for me! How do you like it?”</p> +<p>“I think it very sweet,” Phil answered soberly.</p> +<p>At noon on the following Friday, the Piedmont <i>Eagle</i> +appeared with an editorial signed by Dr. Cameron, denouncing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +in the fine language of the old school the +arrest of Ben as “despotism and the usurpation of +authority.”</p> +<p>At three o’clock, Captain Gilbert, in command of the +troops stationed in the village, marched a squad of soldiers +to the newspaper office. One of them carried a sledge-hammer. +In ten minutes he demolished the office, +heaped the type and their splintered cases on top of the +battered press in the middle of the street, and set fire to +the pile.</p> +<p>On the courthouse door he nailed this proclamation:</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p><i>To the People of Ulster County</i>:</p> +<p>The censures of the press, directed against the servants of +the people, may be endured; but the military force in command +of this district are not the servants of the people of +South Carolina. <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>We are your masters.</span> The impertinence +of newspaper comment on the military will not be brooked +<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>under any circumstances whatever</span>.</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p style=' margin-right:2em;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>G. C. Gilbert</span>,</p> +<p>Captain in Command.</p> +</div> + +</div> +<p>Not content with this display of power, he determined +to make an example of Dr. Cameron, as the leader of +public opinion in the county.</p> +<p>He ordered a squad of his negro troops to arrest him +immediately and take him to Columbia for obstructing +the execution of the Reconstruction Acts. He placed +the squad under command of Gus, whom he promoted to +be a corporal, with instructions to wait until the doctor +was inside his house, boldly enter it and arrest him.</p> +<p>When Gus marched his black janizaries into the house, +no one was in the office. Margaret had gone for a ride +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +with Phil, and Ben had strolled with Elsie to Lover’s +Leap, unconscious of the excitement in town.</p> +<p>Dr. Cameron himself had heard nothing of it, having +just reached home from a visit to a country patient.</p> +<p>Gus stationed his men at each door, and with another +trooper walked straight into Mrs. Cameron’s bedroom, +where the doctor was resting on a lounge.</p> +<p>Had an imp of perdition suddenly sprung through the +floor, the master of the house of Cameron would not have +been more enraged or surprised.</p> +<p>A sudden leap, as the spring of a panther, and he stood +before his former slave, his slender frame erect, his face +a livid spot in its snow-white hair, his brilliant eyes +flashing with fury.</p> +<p>Gus suddenly lost control of his knees.</p> +<p>His old master transfixed him with his eyes, and in a +voice, whose tones gripped him by the throat, said:</p> +<p>“How dare you?”</p> +<p>The gun fell from the negro’s hand, and he dropped to +the floor on his face.</p> +<p>His companion uttered a yell and sprang through the +door, rallying the men as he went:</p> +<p>“Fall back! Fall back! He’s killed Gus! Shot him +dead wid his eye. He’s conjured him! Git de whole +army quick.”</p> +<p>They fled to the Commandant.</p> +<p>Gilbert ordered the negroes to their tents and led his +whole company of white regulars to the hotel, arrested +Dr. Cameron, and rescued his fainting trooper, who had +been revived and placed under a tree on the lawn. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span></p> +<p>The little Captain had a wicked look on his face. He +refused to allow the doctor a moment’s delay to leave +instructions for his wife, who had gone to visit a neighbour. +He was placed in the guard-house, and a detail of +twenty soldiers stationed around it.</p> +<p>The arrest was made so quickly, not a dozen people in +town had heard of it. As fast as it was known, people +poured into the house, one by one, to express their sympathy. +But a greater surprise awaited them.</p> +<p>Within thirty minutes after he had been placed in +prison, a Lieutenant entered, accompanied by a soldier +and a negro blacksmith who carried in his hand two big +chains with shackles on each end.</p> +<p>The doctor gazed at the intruders a moment with incredulity, +and then, as the enormity of the outrage +dawned on him, he flushed and drew himself erect, his +face livid and rigid.</p> +<p>He clutched his throat with his slender fingers, slowly +recovered himself, glanced at the shackles in the black +hands and then at the young Lieutenant’s face, and said +slowly, with heaving breast:</p> +<p>“My God! Have you been sent to place these irons +on me?”</p> +<p>“Such are my orders, sir,” replied the officer, motioning +to the negro smith to approach. He stepped forward, +unlocked the padlock, and prepared the fetters to be +placed on his arms and legs. These fetters were of +enormous weight, made of iron rods three quarters +of an inch thick and connected together by chains of +like weight. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span></p> +<p>“This is monstrous!” groaned the doctor, with choking +agony, glancing helplessly about the bare cell for some +weapon with which to defend himself.</p> +<p>Suddenly looking the Lieutenant in the face, he said:</p> +<p>“I demand, sir, to see your commanding officer. He +cannot pretend that these shackles are needed to hold a +weak unarmed man in prison, guarded by two hundred +soldiers?”</p> +<p>“It is useless. I have his orders direct.”</p> +<p>“But I must see him. No such outrage has ever been +recorded in the history of the American people. I appeal +to the Magna Charta rights of every man who speaks +the English tongue—no man shall be arrested or imprisoned +or deprived of his own household, or of his liberties, +unless by the legal judgment of his peers or by the +law of the land!”</p> +<p>“The bayonet is your only law. My orders admit of +no delay. For your own sake, I advise you to submit. +As a soldier, Dr. Cameron, you know I must execute +orders.”</p> +<p>“These are not the orders of a soldier!” shouted the +prisoner, enraged beyond all control. “They are orders +for a jailer, a hangman, a scullion—no soldier who wears +the sword of a civilized nation can take such orders. The +war is over; the South is conquered; I have no country +save America. For the honour of the flag, for which I +once poured out my blood on the heights of Buena Vista, +I protest against this shame!”</p> +<p>The Lieutenant fell back a moment before the burst of +his anger. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span></p> +<p>“Kill me! Kill me!” he went on passionately, throwing +his arms wide open and exposing his breast. “Kill—I +am in your power. I have no desire to live under such +conditions. Kill, but you must not inflict on me and on +my people this insult worse than death!”</p> +<p>“Do your duty, blacksmith,” said the officer, turning +his back and walking toward the door.</p> +<p>The negro advanced with the chains cautiously, and +attempted to snap one of the shackles on the doctor’s +right arm.</p> +<p>With sudden maniac frenzy, Dr. Cameron seized the +negro by the throat, hurled him to the floor, and backed +against the wall.</p> +<p>The Lieutenant approached and remonstrated:</p> +<p>“Why compel me to add the indignity of personal violence? +You must submit.”</p> +<p>“I am your prisoner,” fiercely retorted the doctor. +“I have been a soldier in the armies of America, and I +know how to die. Kill me, and my last breath will be a +blessing. But while I have life to resist, for myself and +for my people, this thing shall not be done!”</p> +<p>The Lieutenant called a sergeant and a file of soldiers, +and the sergeant stepped forward to seize the prisoner.</p> +<p>Dr. Cameron sprang on him with the ferocity of a +tiger, seized his musket, and attempted to wrench it from +his grasp.</p> +<p>The men closed in on him. A short passionate fight +and the slender, proud, gray-haired man lay panting on +the floor.</p> +<p>Four powerful assailants held his hands and feet, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +the negro smith, with a grin, secured the rivet on the +right ankle and turned the key in the padlock on the left.</p> +<p>As he drove the rivet into the shackle on his left arm, +a spurt of bruised blood from the old Mexican War wound +stained the iron.</p> +<p>Dr. Cameron lay for a moment in a stupor. At length +he slowly rose. The clank of the heavy chains seemed +to choke him with horror. He sank on the floor, covering +his face with his hands and groaned:</p> +<p>“The shame! The shame! O God, that I might have +died! My poor, poor wife!”</p> +<p>Captain Gilbert entered and said with a sneer:</p> +<p>“I will take you now to see your wife and friends if +you would like to call before setting out for Columbia.”</p> +<p>The doctor paid no attention to him.</p> +<p>“Will you follow me while I lead you through this town, +to show them their chief has fallen, or will you force me +to drag you?”</p> +<p>Receiving no answer, he roughly drew the doctor to +his feet, held him by the arm, and led him thus in half-unconscious +stupor through the principal street, followed +by a drove of negroes. He ordered a squad of troops to +meet him at the depot. Not a white man appeared on +the streets. When one saw the sight and heard the clank +of those chains, there was a sudden tightening of the lip, a +clinched fist, and an averted face.</p> +<p>When they approached the hotel, Mrs. Cameron ran to +meet him, her face white as death.</p> +<p>In silence she kissed his lips, kissed each shackle on +his wrists, took her handkerchief and wiped the bruised +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span> +blood from the old wound on his arm the iron had opened +afresh, and then with a look, beneath which the Captain +shrank, she said in low tones:</p> +<p>“Do your work quickly. You have but a few moments +to get out of this town with your prisoner. I have sent +a friend to hold my son. If he comes before you go, he +will kill you on sight as he would a mad dog.”</p> +<p>With a sneer, the Captain passed the hotel and led the +doctor, still in half-unconscious stupor, toward the depot +down past his old slave quarters. He had given his +negroes who remained faithful each a cabin and a lot.</p> +<p>They looked on in awed silence as the Captain proclaimed:</p> +<p>“Fellow citizens, you are the equal of any white man +who walks the ground. The white man’s day is done. +Your turn has come.”</p> +<p>As he passed Jake’s cabin, the doctor’s faithful man +stepped suddenly in front of him, looking at the Captain +out of the corners of his eyes, and asked:</p> +<p>“Is I yo’ equal?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Des lak any white man?”</p> +<p>“Exactly.”</p> +<p>The negro’s fist suddenly shot into Gilbert’s nose with +the crack of a sledge-hammer, laying him stunned on the +pavement.</p> +<p>“Den take dat f’um yo’ equal, d—n you!” he cried, +bending over his prostrate figure. “I’ll show you how to +treat my ole marster, you low-down slue-footed devil!”</p> +<p>The stirring little drama roused the doctor and he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +turned to his servant with his old-time courtesy, and +said:</p> +<p>“Thank you, Jake.”</p> +<p>“Come in here, Marse Richard; I knock dem things +off’n you in er minute, ’en I get you outen dis town in er +jiffy.”</p> +<p>“No, Jake, that is not my way; bring this gentleman +some water, and then my horse and buggy. You can +take me to the depot. This officer can follow with his +men.” And he did.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_FORTY_ACRES_AND_A_MULE' id='V_FORTY_ACRES_AND_A_MULE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Forty Acres and a Mule</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>When Phil returned with Margaret, he drove at +Mrs. Cameron’s request to find Ben, brought +him with all speed to the hotel, took him to his +room, and locked the door before he told him the news. +After an hour’s blind rage, he agreed to obey his father’s +positive orders to keep away from the Captain until his +return, and to attempt no violence against the authorities.</p> +<p>Phil undertook to manage the case in Columbia, and +spent three days collecting his evidence before leaving.</p> +<p>Swifter feet had anticipated him. Two days after the +arrival of Dr. Cameron at the fort in Colombia, a dust-stained, +tired negro was ushered into the presence of +General Howle.</p> +<p>He looked about timidly and laughed loudly.</p> +<p>“Well, my man, what’s the trouble? You seem to +have walked all the way, and laugh as if you were glad +of it.”</p> +<p>“I ‘spec’ I is, sah,” said Jake, sidling up confidentially.</p> +<p>“Well?” said Howle good-humouredly.</p> +<p>Jake’s voice dropped to a whisper.</p> +<p>“I hears you got my ole marster, Dr. Cameron, in dis +place.”</p> +<p>“Yes. What do you know against him?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></p> +<p>“Nuttin’, sah. I des hurry ’long down ter take his +place, so’s you can sen’ him back home. He’s erbleeged +ter go. Dey’s er pow’ful lot er sick folks up dar in de +country cain’t git ’long widout him, an er pow’ful lot er +well ones gwiner be raisin’ de debbel ’bout dis. You can +hol’ me, sah. Des tell my ole marster when ter be yere, +en he sho’ come.”</p> +<p>Jake paused and bowed low.</p> +<p>“Yessah, hit’s des lak I tell you. Fuddermo’, I ’spec’ +I’se de man what done de damages. I ’spec’ I bus’ de +Capt’n’s nose so ’tain gwine be no mo’ good to ’im.”</p> +<p>Howle questioned Jake as to the whole affair, asked him +a hundred questions about the condition of the county, +the position of Dr. Cameron, and the possible effect of +this event on the temper of the people.</p> +<p>The affair had already given him a bad hour. The +news of this shackling of one of the most prominent men +in the State had spread like wildfire, and had caused the +first deep growl of anger from the people. He saw that it +was a senseless piece of stupidity. The election was rapidly +approaching. He was master of the State, and the less +friction the better. His mind was made up instantly. +He released Dr. Cameron with an apology, and returned +with him and Jake for a personal inspection of the affairs +of Ulster county.</p> +<p>In a thirty-minutes’ interview with Captain Gilbert, +Howle gave him more pain than his broken nose.</p> +<p>“And why did you nail up the doors of that Presbyterian +church?” he asked suavely.</p> +<p>“Because McAlpin, the young cub who preaches there, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +dared come to this camp and insult me about the arrest of +old Cameron.”</p> +<p>“I suppose you issued an order silencing him from the +ministry?”</p> +<p>“I did, and told him I’d shackle him if he opened his +mouth again.”</p> +<p>“Good. The throne of Russia needn’t worry about a +worthy successor. Any further ecclesiastical orders?”</p> +<p>“None, except the oaths I’ve prescribed for them before +they shall preach again.”</p> +<p>“Fine! These Scotch Covenanters will feel at home +with you.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’ve made them bite the dust—and they know +who’s runnin’ this town, and don’t you forget it.”</p> +<p>“No doubt. Yet we may have too much of even a +good thing. The League is here to run this country. +The business of the military is to keep still and back them +when they need it.”</p> +<p>“We’ve the strongest council here to be found in any +county in this section,” said Gilbert with pride.</p> +<p>“Just so. The League meets once a week. We have +promised them the land of their masters and equal social +and political rights. Their members go armed to these +meetings and drill on Saturdays in the public square. +The white man is afraid to interfere lest his house or +barn take fire. A negro prisoner in the dock needs only +to make the sign to be acquitted. Not a negro will dare +to vote against us. Their women are formed into +societies, sworn to leave their husbands and refuse to +marry any man who dares our anger. The negro churches +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +have pledged themselves to expel him from their membership. +What more do you want?”</p> +<p>“There’s another side to it,” protested the Captain. +“Since the League has taken in the negroes, every Union +white man has dropped it like a hot iron, except the lone +scallawag or carpet-bagger who expects an office. In the +church, the social circle, in business or pleasure, these +men are lepers. How can a human being stand it? I’ve +tried to grind this hellish spirit in the dirt under my heel, +and unless you can do it they’ll beat you in the long run! +You’ve got to have some Southern white men or you’re +lost.”</p> +<p>“I’ll risk it with a hundred thousand negro majority,” +said Howle with a sneer. “The fun will just begin then. +In the meantime, I’ll have you ease up on this county’s +government. I’ve brought that man back who knocked +you down. Let him alone. I’ve pardoned him. The +less said about this affair, the better.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>As the day of the election under the new régime of Reconstruction +drew near, the negroes were excited by +rumours of the coming great events. Every man was to +receive forty acres of land for his vote, and the enthusiastic +speakers and teachers had made the dream a resistless +one by declaring that the Government would throw in a +mule with the forty acres. Some who had hesitated +about the forty acres of land, remembering that it must be +worked, couldn’t resist the idea of owning a mule.</p> +<p>The Freedman’s Bureau reaped a harvest in $2 marriage +fees from negroes who were urged thus to make +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span> +their children heirs of landed estates stocked with +mules.</p> +<p>Every stranger who appeared in the village was regarded +with awe as a possible surveyor sent from Washington +to run the lines of these forty-acre plots.</p> +<p>And in due time the surveyors appeared. Uncle Aleck, +who now devoted his entire time to organizing the League, +and drinking whiskey which the dues he collected made +easy, was walking back to Piedmont from a League meeting +in the country, dreaming of this promised land.</p> +<p>He lifted his eyes from the dusty way and saw before +him two surveyors with their arms full of line stakes +painted red, white, and blue. They were well-dressed +Yankees—he could not be mistaken. Not a doubt disturbed +his mind. The kingdom of heaven was at hand!</p> +<p>He bowed low and cried:</p> +<p>“Praise de Lawd! De messengers is come! I’se +waited long, but I sees ’em now wid my own eyes!”</p> +<p>“You can bet your life on that, old pard,” said the +spokesman of the pair. “We go two and two, just as the +apostles did in the olden times. We have only a few left. +The boys are hurrying to get their homes. All you’ve got +to do is to drive one of these red, white, and blue stakes +down at each corner of the forty acres of land you want, +and every rebel in the infernal regions can’t pull it up.”</p> +<p>“Hear dat now!”</p> +<p>“Just like I tell you. When this stake goes into the +ground, it’s like planting a thousand cannon at each +corner.”</p> +<p>“En will the Lawd’s messengers come wid me right +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span> +now to de bend er de creek whar I done pick out my +forty acres?”</p> +<p>“We will, if you have the needful for the ceremony. +The fee for the surveyor is small—only two dollars for +each stake. We have no time to linger with foolish +virgins who have no oil in their lamps. The bridegroom +has come. They who have no oil must remain +in outer darkness.” The speaker had evidently been +a preacher in the North, and his sacred accent sealed his +authority with the old negro, who had been an exhorter +himself.</p> +<p>Aleck felt in his pocket the jingle of twenty gold dollars, +the initiation fees of the week’s harvest of the League. He +drew them, counted out eight, and took his four stakes. +The surveyors kindly showed him how to drive them +down firmly to the first stripe of blue. When they had +stepped off a square of about forty acres of the Lenoir +farm, including the richest piece of bottom land on the +creek, which Aleck’s children under his wife’s direction +were working for Mrs. Lenoir, and the four stakes were +planted, old Aleck shouted:</p> +<p>“Glory ter God!”</p> +<p>“Now,” said the foremost surveyor, “you want a deed—a +deed in fee simple with the big seal of the Government +on it, and you’re fixed for life. The deed you can +take to the courthouse and make the clerk record it.”</p> +<p>The man drew from his pocket an official-looking +paper, with a red circular seal pasted on its face.</p> +<p>Uncle Aleck’s eyes danced.</p> +<p>“Is dat de deed?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span></p> +<p>“It will be if I write your name on it and describe the +land.”</p> +<p>“En what’s de fee fer dat?”</p> +<p>“Only twelve dollars; you can take it now or wait until +we come again. There’s no particular hurry about this. +The wise man, though, leaves nothing for to-morrow that +he can carry with him to-day.”</p> +<p>“I takes de deed right now, gemmen,” said Aleck, +eagerly counting out the remaining twelve dollars. “Fix +’im up for me.”</p> +<p>The surveyor squatted in the field and carefully wrote +the document.</p> +<p>They went on their way rejoicing, and old Aleck hurried +into Piedmont with the consciousness of lordship of +the soil. He held himself so proudly that it seemed to +straighten some of the crook out of his bow legs.</p> +<p>He marched up to the hotel where Margaret sat reading +and Marion was on the steps playing with a setter.</p> +<p>“Why, Uncle Aleck!” Marion exclaimed, “I haven’t +seen you in a long time.”</p> +<p>Aleck drew himself to his full height—at least, as full +as his bow legs would permit, and said gruffly:</p> +<p>“Miss Ma’ian, I axes you to stop callin’ me ‘uncle’; my +name is Mr. Alexander Lenoir——”</p> +<p>“Until Aunt Cindy gets after you,” laughed the girl. +“Then it’s much shorter than that, Uncle Aleck.”</p> +<p>He shuffled his feet and looked out at the square unconcernedly.</p> +<p>“Yaas’m, dat’s what fetch me here now. I comes ter +tell yer Ma ter tell dat ’oman Cindy ter take her chillun +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +off my farm. I gwine ’low no mo’ rent-payin’ ter nobody +off’n my lan’!”</p> +<p>“Your land, Uncle Aleck? When did you get it?” +asked Marion, placing her cheek against the setter.</p> +<p>“De Gubment gim it ter me to-day,” he replied, fumbling +in his pocket, and pulling out the document. “You +kin read it all dar yo’sef.”</p> +<p>He handed Marion the paper, and Margaret hurried +down and read it over her shoulder.</p> +<p>Both girls broke into screams of laughter.</p> +<p>Aleck looked up sharply.</p> +<p>“Do you know what’s written on this paper, Uncle +Aleck?” Margaret asked.</p> +<p>“Cose I do. Dat’s de deed ter my farm er forty acres +in de land er de creek, whar I done stuck off wid de red, +white, an’ blue sticks de Gubment gimme.”</p> +<p>“I’ll read it to you,” said Margaret.</p> +<p>“Wait a minute,” interrupted Marion. “I want +Aunt Cindy to hear it—she’s here to see Mamma in the +kitchen now.”</p> +<p>She ran for Uncle Aleck’s spouse. Aunt Cindy walked +around the house and stood by the steps, eying her erstwhile +lord with contempt.</p> +<p>“Got yer deed, is yer, ter stop me payin’ my missy her +rent fum de lan’ my chillun wucks? Yu’se er smart boy, +you is—let’s hear de deed!”</p> +<p>Aleck edged away a little, and said with a bow:</p> +<p>“Dar’s de paper wid de big mark er de Gubment.”</p> +<p>Aunt Cindy sniffed the air contemptuously.</p> +<p>“What is it, honey?” she asked of Margaret. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span></p> +<p>Margaret read in mock solemnity the mystic writing +on the deed:</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p><i>To Whom It May Concern</i>:</p> +<p>As Moses lifted up the brazen serpent in the wilderness +for the enlightenment of the people, even so have I lifted +twenty shining plunks out of this benighted nigger! Selah!</p> +</div> +<p>As Uncle Aleck walked away with Aunt Cindy shouting +in derision, “Dar, now! Dar, now!” the bow in his +legs seemed to have sprung a sharper curve.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_A_WHISPER_IN_THE_CROWD' id='VI_A_WHISPER_IN_THE_CROWD'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Whisper in the Crowd</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>The excitement which preceded the first Reconstruction +election in the South paralyzed the +industries of the country. When demagogues +poured down from the North and began their raving before +crowds of ignorant negroes, the plow stopped in the furrow, +the hoe was dropped, and the millennium was at hand.</p> +<p>Negro tenants, working under contracts issued by the +Freedman’s Bureau, stopped work, and rode their landlords’ +mules and horses around the county, following +these orators.</p> +<p>The loss to the cotton crop alone from the abandonment +of the growing plant was estimated at over $60,000,000.</p> +<p>The one thing that saved the situation from despair +was the large grain and forage crops of the previous +season which thrifty farmers had stored in their barns. +So important was the barn and its precious contents that +Dr. Cameron hired Jake to sleep in his.</p> +<p>This immense barn, which was situated at the foot of +the hill some two hundred yards behind the house, had +become a favourite haunt of Marion and Hugh. She +had made a pet of the beautiful thoroughbred mare +which had belonged to Ben during the war. Marion +went every day to give her an apple or lump of sugar, or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +carry her a bunch of clover. The mare would follow her +about like a cat.</p> +<p>Another attraction at the barn for them was Becky +Sharpe, Ben’s setter. She came to Marion one morning, +wagging her tail, seized her dress and led her into an +empty stall, where beneath the trough lay sleeping +snugly ten little white-and-black spotted puppies.</p> +<p>The girl had never seen such a sight before and went +into ecstasies. Becky wagged her tail with pride at her +compliments. Every morning she would pull her gently +into the stall just to hear her talk and laugh and pet her +babies.</p> +<p>Whatever election day meant to the men, to Marion it +was one of unalloyed happiness: she was to ride horseback +alone and dance at her first ball. Ben had taught +her to ride, and told her she could take Queen to Lover’s +Leap and back alone. Trembling with joy, her beautiful +face wreathed in smiles, she led the mare to the pond in +the edge of the lot and watched her drink its pure spring +water.</p> +<p>When he helped her to mount in front of the hotel +under her mother’s gaze, and saw her ride out of the +gate, with the exquisite lines of her little figure melting +into the graceful lines of the mare’s glistening form, he +exclaimed:</p> +<p>“I declare, I don’t know which is the prettier, Marion +or Queen!”</p> +<p>“I know,” was the mother’s soft answer.</p> +<p>“They are both thoroughbreds,” said Ben, watching +them admiringly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span></p> +<p>“Wait till you see her to-night in her first ball dress,” +whispered Mrs. Lenoir.</p> +<p>At noon Ben and Phil strolled to the polling-place to +watch the progress of the first election under negro rule. +The Square was jammed with shouting, jostling, perspiring +negroes, men, women, and children. The day was warm, +and the African odour was supreme even in the open air.</p> +<p>A crowd of two hundred were packed around a peddler’s +box. There were two of them—one crying the wares, +and the other wrapping and delivering the goods. They +were selling a new patent poison for rats.</p> +<p>“I’ve only a few more bottles left now, gentlemen,” he +shouted, “and the polls will close at sundown. A great +day for our brother in black. Two years of army rations +from the Freedman’s Bureau, with old army +clothes thrown in, and now the ballot—the priceless +glory of American citizenship. But better still the +very land is to be taken from these proud aristocrats +and given to the poor down-trodden black man. Forty +acres and a mule—think of it! Provided, mind you—that +you have a bottle of my wonder-worker to kill the +rats and save your corn for the mule. No man can have +the mule unless he has corn; and no man can have corn if +he has rats—and only a few bottles left——”</p> +<p>“Gimme one,” yelled a negro.</p> +<p>“Forty acres and a mule, your old masters to work +your land and pay his rent in corn, while you sit back in +the shade and see him sweat.”</p> +<p>“Gimme er bottle and two er dem pictures!” bawled +another candidate for a mule. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span></p> +<p>The peddler handed him the bottle and the pictures +and threw a handful of his labels among the crowd. +These labels happened to be just the size of the ballots, +having on them the picture of a dead rat lying on his back, +and above, the emblem of death, the crossbones and skull.</p> +<p>“Forty acres and a mule for every black man—why +was I ever born white? I never had no luck, nohow!”</p> +<p>Phil and Ben passed on nearer the polling-place, around +which stood a cordon of soldiers with a line of negro voters +two hundred yards in length extending back into the crowd.</p> +<p>The negro Leagues came in armed battalions and voted +in droves, carrying their muskets in their hands. Less +than a dozen white men were to be seen about the place.</p> +<p>The negroes, under the drill of the League and the +Freedman’s Bureau, protected by the bayonet, were +voting to enfranchise themselves, disfranchise their +former masters, ratify a new constitution, and elect a +legislature to do their will. Old Aleck was a candidate +for the House, chief poll-holder, and seemed to be in +charge of the movements of the voters outside the booth +as well as inside. He appeared to be omnipresent, and +his self-importance was a sight Phil had never dreamed. +He could not keep his eyes off him.</p> +<p>“By George, Cameron, he’s a wonder!” he laughed.</p> +<p>Aleck had suppressed as far as possible the story of the +painted stakes and the deed, after sending out warnings +to the brethren to beware of two enticing strangers. +The surveyors had reaped a rich harvest and passed on. +Aleck made up his mind to go to Columbia, make the laws +himself, and never again trust a white man from the North +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span> +or South. The agent of the Freedman’s Bureau at Piedmont +tried to choke him off the ticket. The League +backed him to a man. He could neither read nor write, +but before he took to whiskey he had made a specialty of +revival exhortation, and his mouth was the most effective +thing about him. In this campaign he was an orator of +no mean powers. He knew what he wanted, and he +knew what his people wanted, and he put the thing in +words so plain that a wayfaring man, though a fool, +couldn’t make any mistake about it.</p> +<p>As he bustled past, forming a battalion of his brethren +in line to march to the polls, Phil followed his every movement +with amused interest.</p> +<p>Besides being so bow-legged that his walk was a moving +joke he was so striking a negro in his personal appearance, +he seemed to the young Northerner almost a distinct +type of man.</p> +<p>His head was small and seemed mashed on the sides +until it bulged into a double lobe behind. Even his ears, +which he had pierced and hung with red earbobs, seemed +to have been crushed flat to the side of his head. His +kinked hair was wrapped in little hard rolls close to the +skull and bound tightly with dirty thread. His receding +forehead was high and indicated a cunning intelligence. +His nose was broad and crushed flat against his face. +His jaws were strong and angular, mouth wide, and lips +thick, curling back from rows of solid teeth set obliquely +in their blue gums. The one perfect thing about him +was the size and setting of his mouth—he was a born +African orator, undoubtedly descended from a long line +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +of savage spell-binders, whose eloquence in the palaver +houses of the jungle had made them native leaders. His +thin spindle-shanks supported an oblong, protruding +stomach, resembling an elderly monkey’s, which seemed +so heavy it swayed his back to carry it.</p> +<p>The animal vivacity of his small eyes and the flexibility +of his eyebrows, which he worked up and down rapidly with +every change of countenance, expressed his eager desires.</p> +<p>He had laid aside his new shoes, which hurt him, and +went barefooted to facilitate his movements on the great +occasion. His heels projected and his foot was so flat +that what should have been the hollow of it made a hole +in the dirt where he left his track.</p> +<p>He was already mellow with liquor, and was dressed in +an old army uniform and cap, with two horse pistols +buckled around his waist. On a strap hanging from his +shoulder were strung a half-dozen tin canteens filled with +whiskey.</p> +<p>A disturbance in the line of voters caused the young +men to move forward to see what it meant.</p> +<p>Two negro troopers had pulled Jake out of the line, and +were dragging him toward old Aleck.</p> +<p>The election judge straightened himself up with great +dignity:</p> +<p>“What wuz de rapscallion doin’?”</p> +<p>“In de line, tryin’ ter vote.”</p> +<p>“Fetch ’im befo’ de judgment bar,” said Aleck, taking +a drink from one of his canteens.</p> +<p>The troopers brought Jake before the judge.</p> +<p>“Tryin’ ter vote, is yer?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span></p> +<p>“’Lowed I would.”</p> +<p>“You hear ’bout de great sassieties de Gubment’s +fomentin’ in dis country?”</p> +<p>“Yas, I hear erbout ’em.”</p> +<p>“Is yer er member er de Union League?”</p> +<p>“Na-sah. I’d rudder steal by myself. I doan’ lak too +many in de party!”</p> +<p>“En yer ain’t er No’f Ca’liny gemmen, is yer—yer +ain’t er member er de ‘Red Strings?’”</p> +<p>“Na-sah, I come when I’se called—dey doan’ hatter +put er string on me—ner er block, ner er collar, ner er +chain, ner er muzzle——”</p> +<p>“Will yer ’splain ter dis cote——” railed Aleck.</p> +<p>“What cote? Dat ole army cote?” Jake laughed in +loud peals that rang over the square.</p> +<p>Aleck recovered his dignity and demanded angrily:</p> +<p>“Does yer belong ter de Heroes ob Americky?”</p> +<p>“Na-sah. I ain’t burnt nobody’s house ner barn yet, +ner hamstrung no stock, ner waylaid nobody atter night—honey, +I ain’t fit ter jine. Heroes ob Americky! Is +you er hero?”</p> +<p>“Ef yer doan’ b’long ter no s’iety,” said Aleck with +judicial deliberation, “what is you?”</p> +<p>“Des er ole-fashun all-wool-en-er-yard-wide nigger dat +stan’s by his ole marster ’cause he’s his bes’ frien’, stays +at home, en tends ter his own business.”</p> +<p>“En yer pay no ’tenshun ter de orders I sent yer ter jine +de League?”</p> +<p>“Na-sah. I ain’t er takin’ orders f’um er skeer-crow.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span></p> +<p>Aleck ignored his insolence, secure in his power.</p> +<p>“You doan b’long ter no s’iety, what yer git in dat +line ter vote for?”</p> +<p>“Ain’t I er nigger?”</p> +<p>“But yer ain’t de right kin’ er nigger. ‘Res’ dat man +fer ‘sturbin’ de peace.”</p> +<p>They put Jake in jail, persuaded his wife to leave him, +and expelled him from the Baptist church, all within the +week.</p> +<p>As the troopers led Jake to prison, a young negro apparently +about fifteen years old approached Aleck, holding +in his hand one of the peddler’s rat labels, which had +gotten well distributed among the crowd. A group of +negro boys followed him with these rat labels in their +hands, studying them intently.</p> +<p>“Look at dis ticket, Uncle Aleck,” said the leader.</p> +<p>“Mr. Alexander Lenoir, sah—is I yo’ uncle, nigger?”</p> +<p>The youth walled his eyes angrily.</p> +<p>“Den doan’ you call me er nigger!”</p> +<p>“Who’ yer talkin to, sah? You kin fling yer sass at +white folks, but, honey, yuse er projeckin’ wid death +now!”</p> +<p>“I ain’t er nigger—I’se er gemman, I is,” was the sullen +answer.</p> +<p>“How ole is you?” asked Aleck in milder tones.</p> +<p>“Me mudder say sixteen—but de Buro man say I’se +twenty-one yistiddy, de day ‘fo’ ’lection.”</p> +<p>“Is you voted to-day?”</p> +<p>“Yessah; vote in all de boxes ‘cept’n dis one. Look at +dat ticket. Is dat de straight ticket?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span></p> +<p>Aleck, who couldn’t read the twelve-inch letters of his +favourite bar-room sign, took the rat label and examined +it critically.</p> +<p>“What ail it?” he asked at length.</p> +<p>The boy pointed at the picture of the rat.</p> +<p>“What dat rat doin’, lyin’ dar on his back, wid his heels +cocked up in de air—’pear ter me lak a rat otter be standin’ +on his feet!”</p> +<p>Aleck reëxamined it carefully, and then smiled benignly +on the youth.</p> +<p>“De ignance er dese folks. What ud yer do widout er +man lak me enjued wid de sperit en de power ter splain +tings?”</p> +<p>“You sho’ got de sperits,” said the boy impudently, +touching a canteen.</p> +<p>Aleck ignored the remark and looked at the rat label +smilingly.</p> +<p>“Ain’t we er votin’, ter-day, on de Constertooshun +what’s ter take de ballot away f’um de white folks en gib +all de power ter de cullud gemmen—I axes yer dat?”</p> +<p>The boy stuck his thumbs under his arms and walled +his eyes.</p> +<p>“Yessah!”</p> +<p>“Den dat means de ratification ob de Constertooshun!”</p> +<p>Phil laughed, followed, and watched them fold their +tickets, get in line, and vote the rat labels.</p> +<p>Ben turned toward a white man with gray beard, who +stood watching the crowd.</p> +<p>He was a pious member of the Presbyterian church but +his face didn’t have a pious expression to-day. He had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span> +been refused the right to vote because he had aided the +Confederacy by nursing one of his wounded boys.</p> +<p>He touched his hat politely to Ben.</p> +<p>“What do you think of it, Colonel Cameron?” he +asked with a touch of scorn.</p> +<p>“What’s your opinion, Mr. McAllister?”</p> +<p>“Well, Colonel, I’ve been a member of the church for +over forty years. I’m not a cussin’ man—but there’s a +sight I never expected to live to see. I’ve been a faithful +citizen of this State for fifty years. I can’t vote, and a +nigger is to be elected to-day to represent me in the +Legislature. Neither you, Colonel, nor your father are +good enough to vote. Every nigger in this county sixteen +years old and up voted to-day—I ain’t a cussing man, +and I don’t say it as a cuss word, but all I’ve got to say +is, IF there BE such a thing as a d—d shame—that’s it!”</p> +<p>“Mr. McAllister, the recording angel wouldn’t have +made a mark had you said it without the ‘IF.’”</p> +<p>“God knows what this country’s coming to—I don’t,” +said the old man bitterly. “I’m afraid to let my wife +and daughter go out of the house, or stay in it, without +somebody with them.”</p> +<p>Ben leaned closer and whispered, as Phil approached:</p> +<p>“Come to my office to-night at ten o’clock; I want to +see you on some important business.”</p> +<p>The old man seized his hand eagerly.</p> +<p>“Shall I bring the boys?”</p> +<p>Ben smiled.</p> +<p>“No. I’ve seen them some time ago.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_BY_THE_LIGHT_OF_A_TORCH' id='VII_BY_THE_LIGHT_OF_A_TORCH'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>By the Light of a Torch</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>On the night of the election Mrs. Lenoir gave a +ball at the hotel in honour of Marion’s entrance +into society. She was only in her sixteenth year, +yet older than her mother when mistress of her own household. +The only ambition the mother cherished was that +she might win the love of an honest man and build for +herself a beautiful home on the site of the cottage covered +with trailing roses. In this home dream for Marion she +found a great sustaining joy to which nothing in the life +of man answers.</p> +<p>The ball had its political significance which the military +martinet who commanded the post understood. It +was the way the people of Piedmont expressed to him +and the world their contempt for the farce of an election +he had conducted, and their indifference as to the result +he would celebrate with many guns before midnight.</p> +<p>The young people of the town were out in force. +Marion was a universal favourite. The grace, charm, and +tender beauty of the Southern girl of sixteen were combined +in her with a gentle and unselfish disposition. Amid +poverty that was pitiful, unconscious of its limitations, +her thoughts were always of others, and she was the one +human being everybody had agreed to love. In the village +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span> +in which she lived wealth counted for naught. She +belonged to the aristocracy of poetry, beauty, and intrinsic +worth, and her people knew no other.</p> +<p>As she stood in the long dining-room, dressed in her +first ball costume of white organdy and lace, the little +plump shoulders peeping through its meshes, she was the +picture of happiness. A half-dozen boys hung on every +word as the utterance of an oracle. She waved gently +an old ivory fan with white down on its edges in a way +the charm of which is the secret birthright of every +Southern girl.</p> +<p>Now and then she glanced at the door for some one +who had not yet appeared.</p> +<p>Phil paid his tribute to her with genuine feeling, and +Marion repaid him by whispering:</p> +<p>“Margaret’s dressed to kill—all in soft azure blue—her +rosy cheeks, black hair, and eyes never shone as +they do to-night. She doesn’t dance on account of her +Sunday-school—it’s all for you.”</p> +<p>Phil blushed and smiled.</p> +<p>“The preacher won’t be here?”</p> +<p>“Our rector will.”</p> +<p>“He’s a nice old gentleman. I’m fond of him. Miss +Marion, your mother is a genius. I hope she can plan +these little affairs oftener.”</p> +<p>It was half-past ten o’clock when Ben Cameron entered +the room with Elsie a little ruffled at his delay over +imaginary business at his office. Ben answered her +criticisms with a strange elation. She had felt a secret +between them and resented it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span></p> +<p>At Mrs. Lenoir’s special request, he had put on his full +uniform of a Confederate Colonel in honour of Marion +and the poem her father had written of one of his gallant +charges. He had not worn it since he fell that day in +Phil’s arms.</p> +<p>No one in the room had ever seen him in this Colonel’s +uniform. Its yellow sash with the gold fringe and tassels +was faded and there were two bullet holes in the coat. A +murmur of applause from the boys, sighs and exclamations +from the girls swept the room as he took Marion’s +hand, bowed and kissed it. Her blue eyes danced and +smiled on him with frank admiration.</p> +<p>“Ben, you’re the handsomest thing I’ve ever seen!” +she said softly.</p> +<p>“Thanks. I thought you had a mirror. I’ll send you +one,” he answered, slipping his arm around her and gliding +away to the strains of a waltz. The girl’s hand trembled +as she placed it on his shoulder, her cheeks were +flushed, and her eyes had a wistful dreamy look in their +depths.</p> +<p>When Ben rejoined Elsie and they strolled on the +lawn, the military commandant suddenly confronted +them with a squad of soldiers.</p> +<p>“I’ll trouble you for those buttons and shoulder +straps,” said the Captain.</p> +<p>Elsie’s amber eyes began to spit fire. Ben stood still +and smiled.</p> +<p>“What do you mean?” she asked.</p> +<p>“That I will not be insulted by the wearing of this +uniform to-day.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span></p> +<p>“I dare you to touch it, coward, poltroon!” cried the +girl, her plump little figure bristling in front of her lover.</p> +<p>Ben laid his hand on her arm and gently drew her +back to his side: “He has the power to do this. It is a +technical violation of law to wear them. I have surrendered. +I am a gentleman and I have been a soldier. He +can have his tribute. I’ve promised my father to offer no +violence to the military authority of the United States.”</p> +<p>He stepped forward, and the officer cut the buttons +from his coat and ripped the straps from his shoulders.</p> +<p>While the performance was going on, Ben quietly said:</p> +<p>“General Grant at Appomattox, with the instincts of +a great soldier, gave our men his spare horses and ordered +that Confederate officers retain their side-arms. The +General is evidently not in touch with this force.”</p> +<p>“No: I’m in command in this county,” said the +Captain.</p> +<p>“Evidently.”</p> +<p>When he had gone, Elsie’s eyes were dim. They +strolled under the shadow of the great oak and stood in +silence, listening to the music within and the distant +murmur of the falls.</p> +<p>“Why is it, sweetheart, that a girl will persist in admiring +brass buttons?” Ben asked softly.</p> +<p>She raised her lips to his for a kiss and answered:</p> +<p>“Because a soldier’s business is to die for his country.”</p> +<p>As Ben led her back into the ballroom and surrendered +her to a friend for a dance, the first gun pealed its +note of victory from the square in the celebration of the +triumph of the African slave over his white master. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span></p> +<p>Ben strolled out in the street to hear the news.</p> +<p>The Constitution had been ratified by an enormous +majority, and a Legislature elected composed of 101 negroes +and 23 white men. Silas Lynch had been elected +Lieutenant-Governor, a negro Secretary of State, a +negro Treasurer, and a negro Justice of the Supreme +Court.</p> +<p>When Bizzel, the wizzen-faced agent of the Freedman’s +Bureau, made this announcement from the courthouse +steps, pandemonium broke lose. An incessant rattle of +musketry began in which ball cartridges were used, the +missiles whistling over the town in every direction. Yet +within half an hour the square was deserted and a strange +quiet followed the storm.</p> +<p>Old Aleck staggered by the hotel, his drunkenness +having reached the religious stage.</p> +<p>“Behold, a curiosity, gentlemen,” cried Ben to a group +of boys who had gathered, “a voter is come among us—in +fact, he is the people, the king, our representative +elect, the Honourable Alexander Lenoir, of the county of +Ulster!”</p> +<p>“Gemmens, de Lawd’s bin good ter me,” said Aleck, +weeping copiously.</p> +<p>“They say the rat labels were in a majority in this precinct—how +was that?” asked Ben.</p> +<p>“Yessah—dat what de scornful say—dem dat sets in +de seat o’ de scornful, but de Lawd er Hosts He fetch ’em +low. Mistah Bissel de Buro man count all dem rat votes +right, sah—dey couldn’t fool him—he know what dey +mean—he count ’em all for me an’ de ratification.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span></p> +<p>“Sure-pop!” said Ben; “if you can’t ratify with a rat, +I’d like to know why?”</p> +<p>“Dat’s what I tells ’em, sah.”</p> +<p>“Of course,” said Ben good-humouredly. “The voice +of the people is the voice of God—rats or no rats—if you +know how to count.”</p> +<p>As old Aleck staggered away, the sudden crash of a +volley of musketry echoed in the distance.</p> +<p>“What’s that?” asked Ben, listening intently. The +sound was unmistakable to a soldier’s ear—that volley +from a hundred rifles at a single word of command. It +was followed by a shot on a hill in the distance, and then +by a faint echo, farther still. Ben listened a few moments +and turned into the lawn of the hotel. The music suddenly +stopped, the tramp of feet echoed on the porch, a +woman screamed, and from the rear of the house came the +cry:</p> +<p>“Fire! Fire!”</p> +<p>Almost at the same moment an immense sheet of flame +shot skyward from the big barn.</p> +<p>“My God!” groaned Ben. “Jake’s in jail to-night, +and they’ve set the barn on fire. It’s worth more than +the house.”</p> +<p>The crowd rushed down the hill to the blazing building, +Marion’s fleet figure in its flying white dress leading the +crowd.</p> +<p>The lowing of the cows and the wild neighing of the +horses rang above the roar of the flames.</p> +<p>Before Ben could reach the spot Marion had opened +every stall. Two cows leaped out to safety, but not a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +horse would move from its stall, and each moment wilder +and more pitiful grew their death cries.</p> +<p>Marion rushed to Ben, her eyes dilated, her face as +white as the dress she wore.</p> +<p>“Oh, Ben, Queen won’t come out! What shall I do?”</p> +<p>“You can do nothing, child. A horse won’t come out +of a burning stable unless he’s blindfolded. They’ll all be +burned to death.”</p> +<p>“Oh! no!” the girl cried in agony.</p> +<p>“They’d trample you to death if you tried to get them +out. It can’t be helped. It’s too late.”</p> +<p>As Ben looked back at the gathering crowd, Marion +suddenly snatched a horse blanket, lying at the door, ran +with the speed of a deer to the pond, plunged in, sprang out, +and sped back to the open door of Queen’s stall, through +which her shrill cry could be heard above the others.</p> +<p>As the girl ran toward the burning building, her thin +white dress clinging close to her exquisite form, she looked +like the marble figure of a sylph by the hand of some great +master into which God had suddenly breathed the breath +of life.</p> +<p>As they saw her purpose, a cry of horror rose from the +crowd, her mother’s scream loud above the rest.</p> +<p>Ben rushed to catch her, shouting:</p> +<p>“Marion! Marion! She’ll trample you to death!”</p> +<p>He was too late. She leaped into the stall. The +crowd held their breath. There was a moment of awful +suspense, and the mare sprang through the open door +with the little white figure clinging to her mane and holding +the blanket over her head. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span></p> +<p>A cheer rang above the roar of the flames. The girl +did not loose her hold until her beautiful pet was led to a +place of safety, while she clung to her neck and laughed +and cried for joy. First her mother, then Margaret, +Mrs. Cameron, and Elsie took her in their arms.</p> +<p>As Ben approached the group, Elsie whispered to him: +“Kiss her!”</p> +<p>Ben took her hand, his eyes full of unshed tears, and said:</p> +<p>“The bravest deed a woman ever did—you’re a heroine, +Marion!”</p> +<p>Before she knew it he stooped and kissed her.</p> +<p>She was very still for a moment, smiled, trembled from +head to foot, blushed scarlet, took her mother by the +hand, and without a word hurried to the house.</p> +<p>Poor Becky was whining among the excited crowd and +sought in vain for Marion. At last she got Margaret’s +attention, caught her dress in her teeth and led her +to a corner of the lot, where she had laid side by side her +puppies, smothered to death. She stood and looked at +them with her tail drooping, the picture of despair. Margaret +burst into tears and called Ben.</p> +<p>He bent and put his arm around the setter’s neck and +stroked her head with his hand. Looking at up his sister, +he said:</p> +<p>“Don’t tell Marion of this. She can’t stand any more +to-night.”</p> +<p>The crowd had all dispersed, and the flames had died +down for want of fuel. The odour of roasting flesh, pungent +and acrid, still lingered a sharp reminder of the +tragedy. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span></p> +<p>Ben stood on the back porch, talking in low tones to his +father.</p> +<p>“Will you join us now, sir? We need the name and influence +of men of your standing.”</p> +<p>“My boy, two wrongs never made a right. It’s better +to endure awhile. The sober commonsense of the Nation +will yet save us. We must appeal to it.”</p> +<p>“Eight more fires were seen from town to-night.”</p> +<p>“You only guess their origin.”</p> +<p>“I know their origin. It was done by the League at +a signal as a celebration of the election and a threat of +terror to the county. One of our men concealed a faithful +negro under the floor of the school-house and heard +the plot hatched. We expected it a month ago—but +hoped they had given it up.”</p> +<p>“Even so, my boy, a secret society such as you have +planned means a conspiracy that may bring exile or +death. I hate lawlessness and disorder. We have had +enough of it. Your clan means ultimately martial law. +At least we will get rid of these soldiers by this election. +They have done their worst to me, but we may save +others by patience.”</p> +<p>“It’s the only way, sir. The next step will be a black +hand on a white woman’s throat!”</p> +<p>The doctor frowned. “Let us hope for the best. +Your clan is the last act of desperation.”</p> +<p>“But if everything else fail, and this creeping horror +becomes a fact—then what?”</p> +<p>“My boy, we will pray that God may never let us live +to see the day!”</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-262.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 538px; height: 386px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 538px;'> +THE BLACK MASTERS OF THE SOUTH DURING RECONSTRUCTION.<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_THE_RIOT_IN_THE_MASTER_S_HALL' id='VIII_THE_RIOT_IN_THE_MASTER_S_HALL'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Riot in the Master’s Hall</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Alarmed at the possible growth of the secret clan +into which Ben had urged him to enter, Dr. +Cameron determined to press for relief from oppression +by an open appeal to the conscience of the Nation.</p> +<p>He called a meeting of conservative leaders in a +Taxpayers’ Convention at Columbia. His position as +leader had been made supreme by the indignities he +had suffered, and he felt sure of his ability to accomplish +results. Every county in the State was represented by +its best men in this gathering at the Capitol.</p> +<p>The day he undertook to present his memorial to the +Legislature was one he never forgot. The streets were +crowded with negroes who had come to town to hear +Lynch, the Lieutenant-Governor, speak in a mass-meeting. +Negro policemen swung their clubs in his face as +he pressed through the insolent throng up the street to +the stately marble Capitol. At the door a black, greasy +trooper stopped him to parley. Every decently dressed +white man was regarded a spy.</p> +<p>As he passed inside the doors of the House of Representatives +the rush of foul air staggered him. The reek +of vile cigars and stale whiskey, mingled with the odour of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span> +perspiring negroes, was overwhelming. He paused and +gasped for breath.</p> +<p>The space behind the seats of the members was strewn +with corks, broken glass, stale crusts, greasy pieces of +paper, and picked bones. The hall was packed with +negroes, smoking, chewing, jabbering, pushing, perspiring.</p> +<p>A carpet-bagger at his elbow was explaining to an old +darkey from down east why his forty acres and a mule +hadn’t come.</p> +<p>On the other side of him a big negro bawled:</p> +<p>“Dat’s all right! De cullud man on top!”</p> +<p>The doctor surveyed the hall in dismay. At first not a +white member was visible. The galleries were packed +with negroes. The Speaker presiding was a negro, the +Clerk a negro, the doorkeepers negroes, the little pages all +coal-black negroes, the Chaplain a negro. The negro +party consisted of one hundred and one—ninety-four +blacks and seven scallawags, who claimed to be white. +The remains of Aryan civilization were represented by +twenty-three white men from the Scotch-Irish hill +counties.</p> +<p>The doctor had served three terms as the member from +Ulster in this hall in the old days, and its appearance +now was beyond any conceivable depth of degradation.</p> +<p>The ninety-four Africans, constituting almost its solid +membership, were a motley crew. Every negro type was +there, from the genteel butler to the clodhopper from the +cotton and rice fields. Some had on second-hand seedy +frock-coats their old master had given them before the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span> +war, glossy and threadbare. Old stovepipe hats, of every +style in vogue since Noah came out of the ark, were +placed conspicuously on the desks or cocked on the backs +of the heads of the honourable members. Some wore the +coarse clothes of the field, stained with red mud.</p> +<p>Old Aleck, he noted, had a red woollen comforter wound +round his neck in place of a shirt or collar. He had tried +to go barefooted, but the Speaker had issued a rule that +members should come shod. He was easing his feet by +placing his brogans under the desk, wearing only his red +socks.</p> +<p>Each member had his name painted in enormous gold +letters on his desk, and had placed beside it a sixty-dollar +French imported spittoon. Even the Congress of the +United States, under the inspiration of Oakes Ames and +Speaker Colfax, could only afford one of domestic make, +which cost a dollar.</p> +<p>The uproar was deafening. From four to six negroes +were trying to speak at the same time. Aleck’s majestic +mouth with blue gums and projecting teeth led the chorus +as he ambled down the aisle, his bow-legs flying their red-sock +ensigns.</p> +<p>The Speaker singled him out—his voice was something +which simply could not be ignored—rapped and yelled:</p> +<p>“De gemman from Ulster set down!”</p> +<p>Aleck turned crestfallen and resumed his seat, throwing +his big flat feet in their red woollens up on his desk +and hiding his face behind their enormous spread.</p> +<p>He had barely settled in his chair before a new idea +flashed through his head and up he jumped again: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span></p> +<p>“Mistah Speaker!” he bawled.</p> +<p>“Orda da!” yelled another.</p> +<p>“Knock ’im in de head!”</p> +<p>“Seddown, nigger!”</p> +<p>The Speaker pointed his gavel at Aleck and threatened +him laughingly:</p> +<p>“Ef de gemman from Ulster doan set down I gwine call +’im ter orda!”</p> +<p>Uncle Aleck greeted this threat with a wild guffaw, +which the whole House about him joined in heartily. +They laughed like so many hens cackling—when one +started the others would follow.</p> +<p>The most of them were munching peanuts, and the +crush of hulls under heavy feet added a subnote to the +confusion like the crackle of a prairie fire.</p> +<p>The ambition of each negro seemed to be to speak at +least a half-dozen times on each question, saying the same +thing every time.</p> +<p>No man was allowed to talk five minutes without an +interruption which brought on another and another +until the speaker was drowned in a storm of contending +yells. Their struggles to get the floor with bawlings, +bellowings, and contortions, and the senseless rap of the +Speaker’s gavel, were something appalling.</p> +<p>On this scene, through fetid smoke and animal roar, +looked down from the walls, in marble bas-relief, the still +white faces of Robert Hayne and George McDuffie, +through whose veins flowed the blood of Scottish kings, +while over it brooded in solemn wonder the face of John +Laurens, whose diplomatic genius at the court of France +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +won millions of gold for our tottering cause, and sent a +French fleet and army into the Chesapeake to entrap +Cornwallis at Yorktown.</p> +<p>The little group of twenty-three white men, the descendants +of these spirits, to whom Dr. Cameron had brought +his memorial, presented a pathetic spectacle. Most of +them were old men, who sat in grim silence with nothing +to do or say as they watched the rising black tide, their +dignity, reserve, and decorum at once the wonder and the +shame of the modern world.</p> +<p>At least they knew that the minstrel farce being enacted +on that floor was a tragedy as deep and dark as +was ever woven of the blood and tears of a conquered +people. Beneath those loud guffaws they could hear the +death rattle in the throat of their beloved State, barbarism +strangling civilization by brute force.</p> +<p>For all the stupid uproar, the black leaders of this mob +knew what they wanted. One of them was speaking now, +the leader of the House, the Honourable Napoleon +Whipper.</p> +<p>Dr. Cameron had taken his seat in the little group of +white members in one corner of the chamber, beside an +old friend from an adjoining county whom he had known +in better days.</p> +<p>“Now listen,” said his friend. “When Whipper talks +he always says something.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Speaker, I move you, sir, in view of the arduous +duties which our presiding officer has performed this +week for the State, that he be allowed one thousand +dollars extra pay.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span></p> +<p>The motion was put without debate and carried.</p> +<p>The Speaker then called Whipper to the Chair and +made the same motion, to give the Leader of the House +an extra thousand dollars for the performance of his heavy +duties.</p> +<p>It was carried.</p> +<p>“What does that mean?” asked the doctor.</p> +<p>“Very simple; Whipper and the Speaker adjourned the +House yesterday afternoon to attend a horse race. They +lost a thousand dollars each betting on the wrong horse. +They are recuperating after the strain. They are booked +for judges of the Supreme Court when they finish this job. +The negro mass-meeting to-night is to indorse their names +for the Supreme Bench.”</p> +<p>“Is it possible!” the doctor exclaimed.</p> +<p>When Whipper resumed his place at his desk, the introduction +of bills began. One after another were sent to +the Speaker’s desk, a measure to disarm the whites and +equip with modern rifles a negro militia of 80,000 men; +to make the uniform of Confederate gray the garb of convicts +in South Carolina, with a sign of the rank to signify +the degree of crime; to prevent any person calling another +a “nigger”; to require men to remove their hats in the +presence of all officers, civil or military, and all disfranchised +men to remove their hats in the presence of voters; +to force black and whites to attend the same schools and +open the State University to negroes; to permit the intermarriage +of whites and blacks; and to inforce social +equality.</p> +<p>Whipper made a brief speech on the last measure: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span></p> +<p>“Before I am through, I mean that it shall be known +that Napoleon Whipper is as good as any man in South +Carolina. Don’t tell me that I am not on an equality with +any man God ever made.”</p> +<p>Dr. Cameron turned pale, and trembling with excitement, +asked his friend:</p> +<p>“Can that man pass such measures, and the Governor +sign them?”</p> +<p>“He can pass anything he wishes. The Governor is +his creature—a dirty little scallawag who tore the Union +flag from Fort Sumter, trampled it in the dust, and helped +raise the flag of Confederacy over it. Now he is backed +by the Government at Washington. He won his election +by dancing at negro balls and the purchase of delegates. +His salary as Governor is $3,500 a year, and he spends +over $40,000. Comment is unnecessary. This Legislature +has stolen millions of dollars, and already bankrupted +the treasury. The day Howle was elected to the +Senate of the United States every negro on the floor had +his roll of bills and some of them counted it out on their +desks. In your day the annual cost of the State government +was $400,000. This year it is $2,000,000. These +thieves steal daily. They don’t deny it. They simply +dare you to prove it. The writing paper on the desks +cost $16,000. These clocks on the wall $600 each, and +every little Radical newspaper in the State has been subsidized +in sums varying from $1,000 to $7,000. Each +member is allowed to draw for mileage, per diem, and +‘sundries.’ God only knows what the bill for ‘sundries’ +will aggregate by the end of the session.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span></p> +<p>“I couldn’t conceive of this!” exclaimed the doctor.</p> +<p>“I’ve only given you a hint. We are a conquered race. +The iron hand of Fate is on us. We can only wait for the +shadows to deepen into night. President Grant appears +to be a babe in the woods. Schuyler Colfax, the Vice-president, +and Belknap, the Secretary of War, are in the +saddle in Washington. I hear things are happening +there that are quite interesting. Besides, Congress now +can give little relief. The real lawmaking power in +America is the State Legislature. The State lawmaker +enters into the holy of holies of our daily life. Once +more we are a sovereign State—a sovereign negro +State.”</p> +<p>“I fear my mission is futile,” said the doctor.</p> +<p>“It’s ridiculous—I’ll call for you to-night and take you +to hear Lynch, our Lieutenant-Governor. He is a remarkable +man. Our negro Supreme Court Judge will preside—”</p> +<p>Uncle Aleck, who had suddenly spied Dr. Cameron, +broke in with a laughing welcome:</p> +<p>“I ’clar ter goodness, Dr. Cammun, I didn’t know you +wuz here, sah. I sho’ glad ter see you. I axes yer ter +come across de street ter my room; I got sumfin’ pow’ful +pertickler ter say ter you.”</p> +<p>The doctor followed Aleck out of the hall and across +the street to his room in a little boarding-house. His door +was locked, and the windows darkened by blinds. Instead +of opening the blinds he lighted a lamp.</p> +<p>“Ob cose, Dr. Cammun, you say nuffin ’bout what I +gwine tell you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span></p> +<p>“Certainly not, Aleck.”</p> +<p>The room was full of drygoods boxes. The space under +the bed was packed, and they were piled to the ceiling +around the walls.</p> +<p>“Why, what’s all this, Aleck?”</p> +<p>The member from Ulster chuckled:</p> +<p>“Dr. Cammun, yu’se been er pow’ful frien’ ter me—gimme +medicine lots er times, en I hain’t nebber paid +you nuttin’. I’se sho’ come inter de kingdom now, en I +wants ter pay my respects ter you, sah. Des look ober +dat paper, en mark what you wants, en I hab ’em sont +home fur you.”</p> +<p>The member from Ulster handed his physician a +printed list of more than five hundred articles of merchandise. +The doctor read it over with amazement.</p> +<p>“I don’t understand it, Aleck. Do you own a store?”</p> +<p>“Na-sah, but we git all we wants fum mos’ eny ob ’em. +Dem’s ‘sundries,’ sah, dat de Gubment gibs de members. +We des orda what we needs. No trouble ’tall, sah. De +men what got de goods come roun’ en beg us ter take ’em.”</p> +<p>The doctor smiled in spite of the tragedy back of the +joke.</p> +<p>“Let’s see some of the goods, Aleck—are they first +class?”</p> +<p>“Yessah; de bes’ goin’. I show you.”</p> +<p>He pulled out a number of boxes and bundles, exhibiting +carpets, door mats, hassocks, dog collars, cow bells, +oilcloths, velvets, mosquito nets, damask, Irish linen, +billiard outfits, towels, blankets, flannels, quilts, women’s +hoods, hats, ribbons, pins, needles, scissors, dumb bells, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span> +skates, crape skirt braids, tooth brushes, face powder, +hooks and eyes, skirts, bustles, chignons, garters, artificial +busts, chemises, parasols, watches, jewellery, diamond earrings, +ivory-handled knives and forks, pistols and +guns, and a Webster’s Dictionary.</p> +<p>“Got lots mo’ in dem boxes nailed up dar—yessah, hit’s +no use er lettin’ good tings go by yer when you kin des put +out yer han’ en stop ’em! Some er de members ordered +horses en carriages, but I tuk er par er fine mules wid +harness en two buggies an er wagin. Dey ’roun at de +libry stable, sah.”</p> +<p>The doctor thanked Aleck for his friendly feeling, but +told him it was, of course, impossible for him at this time, +being only a taxpayer and neither a voter nor a member +of the Legislature, to share in his supply of “sundries.”</p> +<p>He went to the warehouse that night with his friend to +hear Lynch, wondering if his mind were capable of receiving +another shock.</p> +<p>This meeting had been called to indorse the candidacy, +for Justice of the Supreme Court, of Napoleon Whipper, +the Leader of the House, the notorious negro thief and +gambler, and of William Pitt Moses, an ex-convict, his +confederate in crime. They had been unanimously chosen +for the positions by a secret caucus of the ninety-four +negro members of the House. This addition to the Court, +with the negro already a member, would give a majority +to the black man on the last Tribunal of Appeal.</p> +<p>The few white men of the party who had any sense of +decency were in open revolt at this atrocity. But their +influence was on the wane. The carpet-bagger shaped +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +the first Convention and got the first plums of office. +Now the negro was in the saddle, and he meant to stay. +There were not enough white men in the Legislature to +force a roll-call on a division of the House. This meeting +was an open defiance of all pale-faces inside or outside +party lines.</p> +<p>Every inch of space in the big cotton warehouse was +jammed—a black living cloud, pungent and piercing.</p> +<p>The distinguished Lieutenant-Governor, Silas Lynch, +had not yet arrived, but the negro Justice of the Supreme +Court, Pinchback, was in his seat as the presiding officer.</p> +<p>Dr. Cameron watched the movements of the black +judge, already notorious for the sale of his opinions, with +a sense of sickening horror. This man was but yesterday +a slave, his father a medicine man in an African jungle +who decided the guilt or innocence of the accused by the +test of administering poison. If the poison killed the man, +he was guilty; if he survived, he was innocent. For +four thousand years his land had stood a solid bulwark +of unbroken barbarism. Out of its darkness he had +been thrust upon the seat of judgment of the laws of the +proudest and highest type of man evolved in time. It +seemed a hideous dream.</p> +<p>His thoughts were interrupted by a shout. It came +spontaneous and tremendous in its genuine feeling. The +magnificent figure of Lynch, their idol, appeared walking +down the aisle escorted by the little scallawag who was the +Governor.</p> +<p>He took his seat on the platform with the easy assurance +of conscious power. His broad shoulders, superb +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +head, and gleaming jungle eyes held every man in the +audience before he had spoken a word.</p> +<p>In the first masterful tones of his voice the doctor’s +keen intelligence caught the ring of his savage metal and +felt the shock of his powerful personality—a personality +which had thrown to the winds every mask, whose sole +aim of life was sensual, whose only fears were of physical +pain and death, who could worship a snake and sacrifice a +human being.</p> +<p>His playful introduction showed him a child of Mystery, +moved by Voices and inspired by a Fetish. His face +was full of good humour, and his whole figure rippled with +sleek animal vivacity. For the moment, life was a +comedy and a masquerade teeming with whims, fancies, +ecstasies and superstitions.</p> +<p>He held the surging crowd in the hollow of his hand. +They yelled, laughed, howled, or wept as he willed.</p> +<p>Now he painted in burning words the imaginary horrors +of slavery until the tears rolled down his cheeks and +he wept at the sound of his own voice. Every dusky +hearer burst into tears and moans.</p> +<p>He stopped, suddenly brushed the tears from his eyes, +sprang to the edge of the platform, threw both arms above +his head and shouted:</p> +<p>“Hosannah to the Lord God Almighty for Emancipation!”</p> +<p>Instantly five thousand negroes, as one man, were on +their feet, shouting and screaming. Their shouts rose +in unison, swelled into a thunder peal, and died away as +one voice. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span></p> +<p>Dead silence followed, and every eye was again riveted +on Lynch. For two hours the doctor sat transfixed, +listening and watching him sway the vast audience with +hypnotic power.</p> +<p>There was not one note of hesitation or of doubt. It +was the challenge of race against race to mortal combat. +His closing words again swept every negro from his seat +and melted every voice into a single frenzied shout:</p> +<p>“Within five years,” he cried, “the intelligence and the +wealth of this mighty State will be transferred to the +negro race. Lift up your heads. The world is yours. +Take it. Here and now I serve notice on every white +man who breathes that I am as good as he is. I demand, +and I am going to have, the privilege of going to see him +in his house or his hotel, eating with him and sleeping +with him, and when I see fit, to take his daughter in +marriage!”</p> +<p>As the doctor emerged from the stifling crowd with his +friend, he drew a deep breath of fresh air, took from his +pocket his conservative memorial, picked it into little +bits, and scattered them along the street as he walked in +silence back to his hotel.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_AT_LOVER_S_LEAP' id='IX_AT_LOVER_S_LEAP'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>At Lover’s Leap</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>In spite of the pitiful collapse of old Stoneman under +his stroke of paralysis, his children still saw the unconquered +soul shining in his colourless eyes. They +had both been on the point of confessing their love +affairs to him and joining in the inevitable struggle when +he was stricken. They knew only too well that he would +not consent to a dual alliance with the Camerons under the +conditions of fierce hatreds and violence into which the +State had drifted. They were too high-minded to consider +a violation of his wishes while thus helpless, with his +strange eyes following them about in childlike eagerness. +His weakness was mightier than his iron will.</p> +<p>So, for eighteen months, while he slowly groped out of +mental twilight, each had waited—Elsie with a tender +faith struggling with despair, and Phil in a torture of +uncertainty and fear.</p> +<p>In the meantime, the young Northerner had become as +radical in his sympathies with the Southern people as his +father had ever been against them. This power of assimilation +has always been a mark of Southern genius. +The sight of the Black Hand on their throats now roused +his righteous indignation. The patience with which they +endured was to him amazing. The Southerner he had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +found to be the last man on earth to become a revolutionist. +All his traits were against it. His genius for command, +the deep sense of duty and honour, his hospitality, his +deathless love of home, his supreme constancy and sense +of civic unity, all combined to make him ultraconservative. +He began now to see that it was reverence for +authority as expressed in the Constitution under which +slavery was established which made Secession inevitable.</p> +<p>Besides, the laziness and incapacity of the negro had +been more than he could endure. With no ties of tradition +or habits of life to bind him, he simply refused to +tolerate them. In this feeling Elsie had grown early to +sympathize. She discharged Aunt Cindy for feeding her +children from the kitchen, and brought a cook and house +girl from the North, while Phil would employ only white +men in any capacity.</p> +<p>In the desolation of negro rule the Cameron farm had +become worthless. The taxes had more than absorbed +the income, and the place was only kept from execution +by the indomitable energy of Mrs. Cameron, who made +the hotel pay enough to carry the interest on a mortgage +which was increasing from season to season.</p> +<p>The doctor’s practice was with him a divine calling. +He never sent bills to his patients. They paid something +if they had it. Now they had nothing.</p> +<p>Ben’s law practice was large for his age and experience, +but his clients had no money.</p> +<p>While the Camerons were growing each day poorer, +Phil was becoming rich. His genius, skill, and enterprise +had been quick to see the possibilities of the waterpower. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span> +The old Eagle cotton mills had been burned +during the war. Phil organized the Eagle & Phœnix +Company, interested Northern capitalists, bought the +falls, and erected two great mills, the dim hum of whose +spindles added a new note to the river’s music. Eager, +swift, modest, his head full of ideas, his heart full of faith, +he had pressed forward to success.</p> +<p>As the old Commoner’s mind began to clear, and his +recovery was sure, Phil determined to press his suit for +Margaret’s hand to an issue.</p> +<p>Ben had dropped a hint of an interview of the Rev. +Hugh McAlpin with Dr. Cameron, which had thrown +Phil into a cold sweat.</p> +<p>He hurried to the hotel to ask Margaret to drive with +him that afternoon. He would stop at Lover’s Leap and +settle the question.</p> +<p>He met the preacher, just emerging from the door, calm, +handsome, serious, and Margaret by his side. The +dark-haired beauty seemed strangely serene. What +could it mean? His heart was in his throat. Was he +too late? Wreathed in smiles when the preacher had +gone, the girl’s face was a riddle he could not solve.</p> +<p>To his joy, she consented to go.</p> +<p>As he left in his trim little buggy for the hotel, he +stooped and kissed Elsie, whispering:</p> +<p>“Make an offering on the altar of love for me, Sis!”</p> +<p>“You’re too slow. The prayers of all the saints will +not save you!” she replied with a laugh, throwing him a +kiss as he disappeared in the dust.</p> +<p>As they drove through the great forest on the cliffs +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span> +overlooking the river, the Southern world seemed lit with +new splendours to-day for the Northerner. His heart beat +with a strange courage. The odour of the pines, their +sighing music, the subtone of the falls below, the subtle +life-giving perfume of the fullness of summer, the splendour +of the sun gleaming through the deep foliage, and the +sweet sensuous air, all seemed incarnate in the calm, +lovely face and gracious figure beside him.</p> +<p>They took their seat on the old rustic built against the +beech, which was the last tree on the brink of the cliff. +A hundred feet below flowed the river, rippling softly +along a narrow strip of sand which its current had thrown +against the rocks. The ledge of towering granite formed +a cave eighty feet in depth at the water’s edge. From +this projecting wall, tradition said a young Indian princess +once leaped with her lover, fleeing from the wrath of a +cruel father who had separated them. The cave below +was inaccessible from above, being reached by a narrow +footpath along the river’s edge when entered a mile +downstream.</p> +<p>The view from the seat, under the beech, was one of marvellous +beauty. For miles the broad river rolled in calm, +shining glory seaward, its banks fringed with cane and +trees, while fields of corn and cotton spread in waving green +toward the distant hills and blue mountains of the west.</p> +<p>Every tree on this cliff was cut with the initials of generations +of lovers from Piedmont.</p> +<p>They sat in silence for awhile, Margaret idly playing +with a flower she had picked by the pathway, and Phil +watching her devoutly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +The Southern sun had tinged her face the reddish +warm hue of ripened fruit, doubly radiant by contrast +with her wealth of dark-brown hair. The lustrous glance +of her eyes, half veiled by their long lashes, and the graceful, +careless pose of her stately figure held him enraptured. +Her dress of airy, azure blue, so becoming to her dark +beauty, gave Phil the impression of eiderdown feathers +of some rare bird of the tropics. He felt that if he dared +to touch her she might lift her wings and sail over the +cliff into the sky and forget to light again at his side.</p> +<p>“I am going to ask a very bold and impertinent question, +Miss Margaret,” Phil said with resolution. “May +I?”</p> +<p>Margaret smiled incredulously.</p> +<p>“I’ll risk your impertinence, and decide as to its boldness.”</p> +<p>“Tell me, please, what that preacher said to you to-day.”</p> +<p>Margaret looked away, unable to suppress the merriment +that played about her eyes and mouth.</p> +<p>“Will you never breathe it to a soul if I do?”</p> +<p>“Never.”</p> +<p>“Honest Injun, here on the sacred altar of the princess?”</p> +<p>“On my honour.”</p> +<p>“Then I’ll tell you,” she said, biting her lips to keep +back a laugh. “Mr. McAlpin is very handsome and eloquent. +I have always thought him the best preacher we +have ever had in Piedmont——”</p> +<p>“Yes, I know,” Phil interrupted with a frown. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span> +“He is very pious,” she went on evenly, “and seeks +Divine guidance in prayer in everything he does. He +called this morning to see me, and I was playing for him in +the little music-room off the parlour, when he suddenly +closed the door and said:</p> +<p>“‘Miss Margaret, I am going to take, this morning, the +most important step of my life——’</p> +<p>“Of course I hadn’t the remotest idea what he +meant——</p> +<p>“‘Will you join me in a word of prayer?’ he asked, and +knelt right down. I was accustomed, of course, to kneel +with him in family worship at his pastoral calls, and so +from habit I slipped to one knee by the piano stool, wondering +what on earth he was about. When he prayed +with fervour for the Lord to bless the great love with +which he hoped to hallow my life—I giggled. It broke +up the meeting. He rose and asked me to marry him. I +told him the Lord hadn’t revealed it to me——”</p> +<p>Phil seized her hand and held it firmly. The smile +died from the girl’s face, her hand trembled, and the rose +tint on her cheeks flamed to scarlet.</p> +<p>“Margaret, my own, I love you,” he cried with joy. +“You could have told that story only to the one man +whom you love—is it not true?”</p> +<p>“Yes. I’ve loved you always,” said the low, sweet +voice.</p> +<p>“Always?” asked Phil through a tear.</p> +<p>“Before I saw you, when they told me you were as Ben’s +twin brother, my heart began to sing at the sound of your +name——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span></p> +<p>“Call it,” he whispered.</p> +<p>“Phil, my sweetheart!” she said with a laugh.</p> +<p>“How tender and homelike the music of your voice! +The world has never seen the match of your gracious +Southern womanhood! Snowbound in the North, I +dreamed, as a child, of this world of eternal sunshine. +And now every memory and dream I’ve found in you.”</p> +<p>“And you won’t be disappointed in my simple ideal +that finds its all within a home?”</p> +<p>“No. I love the old-fashioned dream of the South. +Maybe you have enchanted me, but I love these green +hills and mountains, these rivers musical with cascade +and fall, these solemn forests—but for the Black Curse, +the South would be to-day the garden of the world!”</p> +<p>“And you will help our people lift this curse?” softly +asked the girl, nestling closer to his side.</p> +<p>“Yes, dearest, thy people shall be mine! Had I a +thousand wrongs to cherish, I’d forgive them all for your +sake. I’ll help you build here a new South on all that’s +good and noble in the old, until its dead fields blossom +again, its harbours bristle with ships, and the hum of a +thousand industries make music in every valley. I’d +sing to you in burning verse if I could, but it is not my +way. I have been awkward and slow in love, perhaps—but +I’ll be swift in your service. I dream to make dead +stones and wood live and breathe for you, of victories +wrung from Nature that are yours. My poems will be +deeds, my flowers the hard-earned wealth that has a soul, +which I shall lay at your feet.”</p> +<p>“Who said my lover was dumb?” she sighed, with a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span> +twinkle in her shining eyes. “You must introduce me +to your father soon. He must like me as my father does +you, or our dream can never come true.”</p> +<p>A pain gripped Phil’s heart, but he answered bravely:</p> +<p>“I will. He can’t help loving you.”</p> +<p>They stood on the rustic seat to carve their initials +within a circle, high on the old beechwood book of love.</p> +<p>“May I write it out in full—Margaret Cameron—Philip +Stoneman?” he asked.</p> +<p>“No—only the initials now—the full names when +you’ve seen my father and I’ve seen yours. Jeannie +Campbell and Henry Lenoir were once written thus in +full, and many a lover has looked at that circle and prayed +for happiness like theirs. You can see there a new one cut +over the old, the bark has filled, and written on the fresh +page is ‘Marion Lenoir’ with the blank below for her +lover’s name.”</p> +<p>Phil looked at the freshly cut circle and laughed:</p> +<p>“I wonder if Marion or her mother did that?”</p> +<p>“Her mother, of course.”</p> +<p>“I wonder whose will be the lucky name some day +within it?” said Phil musingly as he finished his own.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_A_NIGHT_HAWK' id='X_A_NIGHT_HAWK'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Night Hawk</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>When the old Commoner’s private physician +had gone and his mind had fully cleared, he +would sit for hours in the sunshine of the vine-clad +porch, asking Elsie of the village, its life, and its people. +He smiled good-naturedly at her eager sympathy +for their sufferings as at the enthusiasm of a child who +could not understand. He had come possessed by a +great idea—events must submit to it. Her assurance +that the poverty and losses of the people were far in excess +of the worst they had known during the war was too +absurd even to secure his attention.</p> +<p>He had refused to know any of the people, ignoring the +existence of Elsie’s callers. But he had fallen in love +with Marion from the moment he had seen her. The +cold eye of the old fox hunter kindled with the fire of his +forgotten youth at the sight of this beautiful girl seated +on the glistening back of the mare she had saved from +death.</p> +<p>As she rode through the village every boy lifted his hat +as to passing royalty, and no one, old or young, could +allow her to pass without a cry of admiration. Her exquisite +figure had developed into the full tropic splendour +of Southern girlhood. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span></p> +<p>She had rejected three proposals from ardent lovers, on +one of whom her mother had quite set her heart. A great +fear had grown in Mrs. Lenoir’s mind lest she were in +love with Ben Cameron. She slipped her arm around +her one day and timidly asked her.</p> +<p>A faint flush tinged Marion’s face up to the roots of her +delicate blonde hair, and she answered with a quick +laugh:</p> +<p>“Mamma, how silly you are! You know I’ve always +been in love with Ben—since I can first remember. I +know he is in love with Elsie Stoneman. I am too young, +the world too beautiful, and life too sweet to grieve over +my first baby love. I expect to dance with him at his +wedding, then meet my fate and build my own nest.”</p> +<p>Old Stoneman begged that she come every day to see +him. He never tired praising her to Elsie. As she +walked gracefully up to the house one afternoon, holding +Hugh by the hand, he said to Elsie:</p> +<p>“Next to you, my dear, she is the most charming +creature I ever saw. Her tenderness for everything that +needs help touches the heart of an old lame man in a very +soft spot.”</p> +<p>“I’ve never seen any one who could resist her,” Elsie +answered. “Her gloves may be worn, her feet clad in old +shoes, yet she is always neat, graceful, dainty, and serene. +No wonder her mother worships her.”</p> +<p>Sam Ross, her simple friend, had stopped at the gate, +and looked over into the lawn as if afraid to come in.</p> +<p>When Marion saw Sam, she turned back to the gate to +invite him in. The keeper of the poor, a vicious-looking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +negro, suddenly confronted him, and he shrank in terror +close to the girl’s side.</p> +<p>“What you doin’ here, sah?” the black keeper railed. +“Ain’t I done tole you ’bout runnin’ away?”</p> +<p>“You let him alone,” Marion cried.</p> +<p>The negro pushed her roughly from his side and knocked +Sam down. The girl screamed for help, and old Stoneman +hobbled down the steps, following Elsie.</p> +<p>When they reached the gate, Marion was bending over +the prostrate form.</p> +<p>“Oh, my, my, I believe he’s killed him!” she wailed.</p> +<p>“Run for the doctor, sonny, quick,” Stoneman said +to Hugh. The boy darted away and brought Dr. +Cameron.</p> +<p>“How dare you strike that man, you devil?” thundered +the old statesman.</p> +<p>“’Case I tole ’im ter stay home en do de wuk I put +’im at, en he all de time runnin’ off here ter git somfin’ +ter eat. I gwine frail de life outen ’im, ef he doan min’ +me.”</p> +<p>“Well, you make tracks back to the Poorhouse. I’ll +attend to this man, and I’ll have you arrested for this +before night,” said Stoneman, with a scowl.</p> +<p>The black keeper laughed as he left.</p> +<p>“Not ’less you’se er bigger man dan Gubner Silas +Lynch, you won’t!”</p> +<p>When Dr. Cameron had restored Sam, and dressed the +wound on his head where he had struck a stone in falling, +Stoneman insisted that the boy be put to bed.</p> +<p>Turning to Dr. Cameron, he asked: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span></p> +<p>“Why should they put a brute like this in charge of the +poor?”</p> +<p>“That’s a large question, sir, at this time,” said the +doctor politely, “and now that you have asked it, I have +some things I’ve been longing for an opportunity to say +to you.”</p> +<p>“Be seated, sir,” the old Commoner answered, “I shall +be glad to hear them.”</p> +<p>Elsie’s heart leaped with joy over the possible outcome +of this appeal, and she left the room with a smile for the +doctor.</p> +<p>“First, allow me,” said the Southerner pleasantly, “to +express my sorrow at your long illness, and my pleasure +at seeing you so well. Your children have won the love +of all our people and have had our deepest sympathy in +your illness.”</p> +<p>Stoneman muttered an inaudible reply, and the doctor +went on:</p> +<p>“Your question brings up, at once, the problem of the +misery and degradation into which our country has sunk +under negro rule——”</p> +<p>Stoneman smiled coldly and interrupted:</p> +<p>“Of course, you understand my position in politics, +Doctor Cameron—I am a Radical Republican.”</p> +<p>“So much the better,” was the response. “I have been +longing for months to get your ear. Your word will be all +the more powerful if raised in our behalf. The negro is +the master of our State, county, city, and town governments. +Every school, college, hospital, asylum, and +poorhouse is his prey. What you have seen is but a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span> +sample. Negro insolence grows beyond endurance. Their +women are taught to insult their old mistresses and mock +their poverty as they pass in their old, faded dresses. +Yesterday a black driver struck a white child of six with +his whip, and when the mother protested, she was arrested +by a negro policeman, taken before a negro magistrate, +and fined $10 for ‘insulting a freedman.’”</p> +<p>Stoneman frowned: “Such things must be very exceptional.”</p> +<p>“They are everyday occurrences and cease to excite +comment. Lynch, the Lieutenant-Governor, who has +bought a summer home here, is urging this campaign of +insult with deliberate purpose——”</p> +<p>The old man shook his head. “I can’t think the +Lieutenant-Governor guilty of such petty villainy.”</p> +<p>“Our school commissioner,” the doctor continued, “is +a negro who can neither read nor write. The black grand +jury last week discharged a negro for stealing cattle and +indicted the owner for false imprisonment. No such rate +of taxation was ever imposed on a civilized people. A +tithe of it cost Great Britain her colonies. There are +5,000 homes in this county—2,900 of them are advertised +for sale by the sheriff to meet his tax bills. This house +will be sold next court day——”</p> +<p>Stoneman looked up sharply. “Sold for taxes?”</p> +<p>“Yes; with the farm which has always been Mrs. +Lenoir’s support. In part her loss came from the cotton +tax. Congress, in addition to the desolation of war, and +the ruin of black rule, has wrung from the cotton farmers +of the South a tax of $67,000,000. Every dollar of this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span> +money bears the stain of the blood of starving people. +They are ready to give up, or to spring some desperate +scheme of resistance——”</p> +<p>The old man lifted his massive head and his great jaws +came together with a snap:</p> +<p>“Resistance to the authority of the National Government?”</p> +<p>“No; resistance to the travesty of government and +the mockery of civilization under which we are being +throttled! The bayonet is now in the hands of a brutal +negro militia. The tyranny of military martinets was +child’s play to this. As I answered your call this morning +I was stopped and turned back in the street by the drill of +a company of negroes under the command of a vicious +scoundrel named Gus who was my former slave. He is +the captain of this company. Eighty thousand armed +negro troops, answerable to no authority save the savage +instincts of their officers, terrorize the State. Every white +company has been disarmed and disbanded by our scallawag +Governor. I tell you, sir, we are walking on the crust +of a volcano——”</p> +<p>Old Stoneman scowled as the doctor rose and walked +nervously to the window and back.</p> +<p>“An appeal from you to the conscience of the North +might save us,” he went on eagerly. “Black hordes of +former slaves, with the intelligence of children and the +instincts of savages, armed with modern rifles, parade +daily in front of their unarmed former masters. A white +man has no right a negro need respect. The children of +the breed of men who speak the tongue of Burns and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +Shakespeare, Drake and Raleigh, have been disarmed and +made subject to the black spawn of an African jungle! +Can human flesh endure it? When Goth and Vandal barbarians +overran Rome, the negro was the slave of the +Roman Empire. The savages of the North blew out the +light of Ancient Civilization, but in all the dark ages +which followed they never dreamed the leprous infamy of +raising a black slave to rule over his former master! +No people in the history of the world have ever before +been so basely betrayed, so wantonly humiliated and +degraded!”</p> +<p>Stoneman lifted his head in amazement at the burst of +passionate intensity with which the Southerner poured +out his protest.</p> +<p>“For a Russian to rule a Pole,” he went on, “a Turk to +rule a Greek, or an Austrian to dominate an Italian is +hard enough, but for a thick-lipped, flat-nosed, spindle-shanked +negro, exuding his nauseating animal odour, to +shout in derision over the hearths and homes of white men +and women is an atrocity too monstrous for belief. Our +people are yet dazed by its horror. My God! when they +realize its meaning, whose arm will be strong enough to +hold them?”</p> +<p>“I should think the South was sufficiently amused with +resistance to authority,” interrupted Stoneman.</p> +<p>“Even so. Yet there is a moral force at the bottom of +every living race of men. The sense of right, the feeling +of racial destiny—these are unconquered and unconquerable +forces. Every man in South Carolina to-day is glad +that slavery is dead. The war was not too great a price +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +for us to pay for the lifting of its curse. And now to ask a +Southerner to be the slave of a slave——”</p> +<p>“And yet, Doctor,” said Stoneman coolly, “manhood +suffrage is the one eternal thing fixed in the nature of +Democracy. It is inevitable.”</p> +<p>“At the price of racial life? Never!” said the Southerner, +with fiery emphasis. “This Republic is great, not +by reason of the amount of dirt we possess, the size of our +census roll, or our voting register—we are great because +of the genius of the race of pioneer white freemen who +settled this continent, dared the might of kings, and made +a wilderness the home of Freedom. Our future depends +on the purity of this racial stock. The grant of the ballot +to these millions of semi-savages and the riot of debauchery +which has followed are crimes against human progress.”</p> +<p>“Yet may we not train him?” asked Stoneman.</p> +<p>“To a point, yes, and then sink to his level if you walk +as his equal in physical contact with him. His race is not +an infant; it is a degenerate—older than yours in time. +At last we are face to face with the man whom slavery concealed +with its rags. Suffrage is but the new paper +cloak with which the Demagogue has sought to hide the +issue. Can we assimilate the negro? The very question +is pollution. In Hayti no white man can own land. +Black dukes and marquises drive over them and swear at +them for getting under their wheels. Is civilization a +patent cloak with which law-tinkers can wrap an animal +and make him a king?”</p> +<p>“But the negro must be protected by the ballot,” protested +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span> +the statesman. “The humblest man must have +the opportunity to rise. The real issue is Democracy.”</p> +<p>“The issue, sir, is Civilization! Not whether a negro +shall be protected, but whether Society is worth saving +from barbarism.”</p> +<p>“The statesman can educate,” put in the Commoner.</p> +<p>The doctor cleared his throat with a quick little nervous +cough he was in the habit of giving when deeply +moved.</p> +<p>“Education, sir, is the development of that which <i>is</i>. +Since the dawn of history the negro has owned the continent +of Africa—rich beyond the dream of poet’s fancy, +crunching acres of diamonds beneath his bare black feet. +Yet he never picked one up from the dust until a white +man showed to him its glittering light. His land swarmed +with powerful and docile animals, yet he never dreamed +a harness, cart, or sled. A hunter by necessity, he never +made an axe, spear, or arrowhead worth preserving beyond +the moment of its use. He lived as an ox, content to +graze for an hour. In a land of stone and timber he never +sawed a foot of lumber, carved a block, or built a house +save of broken sticks and mud. With league on league +of ocean strand and miles of inland seas, for four thousand +years he watched their surface ripple under the wind, +heard the thunder of the surf on his beach, the howl of the +storm over his head, gazed on the dim blue horizon calling +him to worlds that lie beyond, and yet he never dreamed a +sail! He lived as his fathers lived—stole his food, worked +his wife, sold his children, ate his brother, content to +drink, sing, dance, and sport as the ape! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span></p> +<p>“And this creature, half child, half animal, the sport of +impulse, whim, and conceit, ‘pleased with a rattle, tickled +with a straw,’ a being who, left to his will, roams at night +and sleeps in the day, whose speech knows no word of +love, whose passions, once aroused, are as the fury of the +tiger—they have set this thing to rule over the Southern +people——”</p> +<p>The doctor sprang to his feet, his face livid, his eyes +blazing with emotion. “Merciful God—it surpasses +human belief!”</p> +<p>He sank exhausted in his chair, and, extending his hand +in an eloquent gesture, continued:</p> +<p>“Surely, surely, sir, the people of the North are not +mad? We can yet appeal to the conscience and the brain +of our brethren of a common race?”</p> +<p>Stoneman was silent as if stunned. Deep down in his +strange soul he was drunk with the joy of a triumphant +vengeance he had carried locked in the depths of his +being, yet the intensity of this man’s suffering for a +people’s cause surprised and distressed him as all individual +pain hurt him.</p> +<p>Dr. Cameron rose, stung by his silence and the consciousness +of the hostility with which Stoneman had +wrapped himself.</p> +<p>“Pardon my apparent rudeness, Doctor,” he said at +length, extending his hand. “The violence of your feeling +stunned me for the moment. I’m obliged to you for +speaking. I like a plain-spoken man. I am sorry to +learn of the stupidity of the former military commandant +in this town——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span></p> +<p>“My personal wrongs, sir,” the doctor broke in, “are +nothing!”</p> +<p>“I am sorry, too, about these individual cases of suffering. +They are the necessary incidents of a great upheaval. +But may it not all come out right in the end? +After the Dark Ages, day broke at last. We have the +printing press, railroad, and telegraph—a revolution in +human affairs. We may do in years what it took ages to +do in the past. May not the black man speedily emerge? +Who knows? An appeal to the North will be a waste of +breath. This experiment is going to be made. It is +written in the book of Fate. But I like you. Come to see +me again.”</p> +<p>Dr. Cameron left with a heavy heart. He had grown a +great hope in this long-wished-for appeal to Stoneman. +It had come to his ears that the old man, who had dwelt +as one dead in their village, was a power.</p> +<p>It was ten o’clock before the doctor walked slowly back +to the hotel. As he passed the armoury of the black +militia, they were still drilling under the command of Gus. +The windows were open, through which came the steady +tramp of heavy feet and the cry of “Hep! Hep! Hep!” +from the Captain’s thick cracked lips. The full-dress +officer’s uniform, with its gold epaulets, yellow stripes, and +glistening sword, only accentuated the coarse bestiality of +Gus. His huge jaws seemed to hide completely the gold +braid on his collar.</p> +<p>The doctor watched, with a shudder, his black bloated +face covered with perspiration and the huge hand gripping +his sword. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span></p> +<p>They suddenly halted in double ranks and Gus yelled:</p> +<p>“Odah, arms!”</p> +<p>The butts of their rifles crashed to the floor with precision, +and they were allowed to break ranks for a brief +rest.</p> +<p>They sang “John Brown’s Body,” and as its echoes +died away a big negro swung his rifle in a circle over his +head, shouting:</p> +<p>“Here’s your regulator for white trash! En dey’s +nine hundred ob ’em in dis county!”</p> +<p>“Yas, Lawd!” howled another.</p> +<p>“We got ’em down now en we keep ’em dar, chile!” +bawled another.</p> +<p>The doctor passed on slowly to the hotel. The night +was dark, the streets were without lights under their present +rulers, and the stars were hidden with swift-flying +clouds which threatened a storm. As he passed under the +boughs of an oak in front of his house, a voice above him +whispered:</p> +<p>“A message for you, sir.”</p> +<p>Had the wings of a spirit suddenly brushed his cheek, he +would not have been more startled.</p> +<p>“Who are you?” he asked, with a slight tremor.</p> +<p>“A Night Hawk of the Invisible Empire, with a message +from the Grand Dragon of the Realm,” was the low +answer, as he thrust a note in the doctor’s hand. “I +will wait for your answer.”</p> +<p>The doctor fumbled to his office on the corner of the +lawn, struck a match, and read:</p> +<p>“A great Scotch-Irish leader of the South from Memphis +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span> +is here to-night and wishes to see you. If you will +meet General Forrest, I will bring him to the hotel in fifteen +minutes. Burn this. Ben.”</p> +<p>The doctor walked quickly back to the spot where he +had heard the voice, and said:</p> +<p>“I’ll see him with pleasure.”</p> +<p>The invisible messenger wheeled his horse, and in a +moment the echo of his muffled hoofs had died away in +the distance.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XI_THE_BEAT_OF_A_SPARROW_S_WING' id='XI_THE_BEAT_OF_A_SPARROW_S_WING'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Beat of a Sparrow’s Wing</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Dr. Cameron’s appeal had left the old Commoner +unshaken in his idea. There could be but +one side to any question with such a man, and +that was his side. He would stand by his own men, too. +He believed in his own forces. The bayonet was essential +to his revolutionary programme—hence the hand which +held it could do no wrong. Wrongs were accidents which +might occur under any system.</p> +<p>Yet in no way did he display the strange contradictions +of his character so plainly as in his inability to hate the +individual who stood for the idea he was fighting with +maniac fury. He liked Dr. Cameron instantly, though he +had come to do a crime that would send him into beggared +exile.</p> +<p>Individual suffering he could not endure. In this the +doctor’s appeal had startling results.</p> +<p>He sent for Mrs. Lenoir and Marion.</p> +<p>“I understand, Madam,” he said gravely, “that your +house and farm are to be sold for taxes.”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir; we’ve given it up this time. Nothing can be +done,” was the hopeless answer.</p> +<p>“Would you consider an offer of twenty dollars an acre?”</p> +<p>“Nobody would be fool enough to offer it. You can +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span> +buy all the land in the county for a dollar an acre. It’s +not worth anything.”</p> +<p>“I disagree with you,” said Stoneman cheerfully. “I +am looking far ahead. I would like to make an experiment +here with Pennsylvania methods on this land. +I’ll give you ten thousand dollars cash for your five +hundred acres if you will take it.”</p> +<p>“You don’t mean it?” Mrs. Lenoir gasped, choking +back the tears.</p> +<p>“Certainly. You can at once return to your home. +I’ll take another house, and invest your money for you in +good Northern securities.”</p> +<p>The mother burst into sobs, unable to speak, while +Marion threw her arms impulsively around the old man’s +neck and kissed him.</p> +<p>His cold eyes were warmed with the first tear they had +shed in years.</p> +<p>He moved the next day to the Ross estate, which he +rented, had Sam brought back to the home of his childhood +in charge of a good-natured white attendant, and +installed in one of the little cottages on the lawn. He +ordered Lynch to arrest the keeper of the poor, and hold +him on a charge of assault with intent to kill, awaiting the +action of the Grand Jury. The Lieutenant-Governor +received this order with sullen anger—yet he saw to its +execution. He was not quite ready for a break with the +man who had made him.</p> +<p>Astonished at his new humour, Phil and Elsie hastened +to confess to him their love affairs and ask his approval +of their choice. His reply was cautious, yet he did not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span> +refuse his consent. He advised them to wait a few +months, allow him time to know the young people, and +get his bearings on the conditions of Southern society. +His mood of tenderness was a startling revelation to them +of the depth and intensity of his love.</p> +<p>When Mrs. Lenoir returned with Marion to her vine-clad +home, she spent the first day of perfect joy since the +death of her lover husband. The deed had not yet been +made of the transfer of the farm, but it was only a question +of legal formality. She was to receive the money in +the form of interest-bearing securities and deliver the +title on the following morning.</p> +<p>Arm in arm, mother and daughter visited again each +hallowed spot, with the sweet sense of ownership. The +place was in perfect order. Its flowers were in gorgeous +bloom, its walks clean and neat, the fences painted, and +the gates swung on new hinges.</p> +<p>They stood with their arms about one another, watching +the sun sink behind the mountains, with tears of gratitude +and hope stirring their souls.</p> +<p>Ben Cameron strode through the gate, and they hurried +to meet him with cries of joy.</p> +<p>“Just dropped in a minute to see if you are snug for the +night,” he said.</p> +<p>“Of course, snug and so happy we’ve been hugging one +another for hours,” said the mother. “Oh, Ben, the +clouds have lifted at last!”</p> +<p>“Has Aunt Cindy come yet?” he asked.</p> +<p>“No, but she’ll be here in the morning to get breakfast. +We don’t want anything to eat,” she answered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span></p> +<p>“Then I’ll come out when I’m through my business to-night, +and sleep in the house to keep you company.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense,” said the mother, “we couldn’t think of +putting you to the trouble. We’ve spent many a night +here alone.”</p> +<p>“But not in the past two years,” he said with a frown.</p> +<p>“We’re not afraid,” Marion said with a smile. “Besides, +we’d keep you awake all night with our laughter and +foolishness, rummaging through the house.”</p> +<p>“You’d better let me,” Ben protested.</p> +<p>“No,” said the mother, “we’ll be happier to-night alone, +with only God’s eye to see how perfectly silly we can be. +Come and take supper with us to-morrow night. Bring +Elsie and her guitar—I don’t like the banjo—and we’ll +have a little love feast with music in the moonlight.”</p> +<p>“Yes, do that,” cried Marion. “I know we owe this +good luck to her. I want to tell her how much I love her +for it.”</p> +<p>“Well, if you insist on staying alone,” said Ben reluctantly, +“I’ll bring Miss Elsie to-morrow, but I don’t +like your being here without Aunt Cindy to-night.”</p> +<p>“Oh, we’re all right!” laughed Marion, “but what I +want to know is what you are doing out so late every +night since you’ve come home, and where you were gone +for the past week?”</p> +<p>“Important business,” he answered soberly.</p> +<p>“Business—I expect!” she cried. “Look here, Ben +Cameron, have you another girl somewhere you’re flirting +with?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” he answered slowly, coming closer and his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span> +voice dropping to a whisper, “and her name is +Death.”</p> +<p>“Why, Ben!” Marion gasped, placing her trembling +hand unconsciously on his arm, a faint flush mantling her +cheek and leaving it white.</p> +<p>“What do you mean?” asked the mother in low +tones.</p> +<p>“Nothing that I can explain. I only wish to warn you +both never to ask me such questions before any one.”</p> +<p>“Forgive me,” said Marion, with a tremor. “I didn’t +think it serious.”</p> +<p>Ben pressed the little warm hand, watching her mouth +quiver with a smile that was half a sigh, as he answered:</p> +<p>“You know I’d trust either of you with my life, but I +can’t be too careful.”</p> +<p>“We’ll remember, Sir Knight,” said the mother. +“Don’t forget, then, to-morrow—and spend the evening +with us. I wish I had one of Marion’s new dresses done. +Poor child, she has never had a decent dress in her life +before. You know I never look at my pretty baby +grown to such a beautiful womanhood without hearing +Henry say over and over again—‘Beauty is a sign of +the soul—the body is the soul!’”</p> +<p>“Well, I’ve my doubts about your improving her with +a fine dress,” he replied thoughtfully. “I don’t believe +that more beautifully dressed women ever walked the +earth than our girls of the South who came out of the war +clad in the pathos of poverty, smiling bravely through +the shadows, bearing themselves as queens though they +wore the dress of the shepherdess.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span></p> +<p>“I’m almost tempted to kiss you for that, as you once +took advantage of me!” said Marion, with enthusiasm.</p> +<p>The moon had risen and a whippoorwill was chanting +his weird song on the lawn as Ben left them leaning on the +gate.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>It was past midnight before they finished the last +touches in restoring their nest to its old homelike appearance +and sat down happy and tired in the room in which +Marion was born, brooding and dreaming and talking +over the future.</p> +<p>The mother was hanging on the words of her daughter, +all the baffled love of the dead poet husband, her griefs +and poverty consumed in the glowing joy of new hopes. +Her love for this child was now a triumphant passion, +which had melted her own being into the object of worship, +until the soul of the daughter was superimposed on +the mother’s as the magnetized by the magnetizer.</p> +<p>“And you’ll never keep a secret from me, dear?” she +asked Marion.</p> +<p>“Never.”</p> +<p>“You’ll tell me all your love affairs?” she asked softly, +as she drew the shining blonde head down on her shoulder.</p> +<p>“Faithfully.”</p> +<p>“You know I’ve been afraid sometimes you were keeping +something back from me, deep down in your heart—and +I’m jealous. You didn’t refuse Henry Grier because +you loved Ben Cameron—now, did you?”</p> +<p>The little head lay still before she answered:</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-302.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 394px; height: 582px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 394px;'> +MAE MARSH AS THE VICTIM OF RECONSTRUCTION.<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span></div> +<p>“How many times must I tell you, Silly, that I’ve +loved Ben since I can remember, that I will always love +him, and when I meet my fate, at last, I shall boast to my +children of my sweet girl romance with the Hero +of Piedmont, and they shall laugh and cry with me +over——”</p> +<p>“What’s that?” whispered the mother, leaping to her +feet.</p> +<p>“I heard nothing,” Marion answered, listening.</p> +<p>“I thought I heard footsteps on the porch.”</p> +<p>“Maybe it’s Ben, who decided to come anyhow,” said +the girl.</p> +<p>“But he’d knock!” whispered the mother.</p> +<p>The door flew open with a crash, and four black brutes +leaped into the room, Gus in the lead, with a revolver in +his hand, his yellow teeth grinning through his thick lips.</p> +<p>“Scream now, an’ I blow yer brains out,” he growled.</p> +<p>Blanched with horror, the mother sprang before Marion +with a shivering cry:</p> +<p>“What do you want?”</p> +<p>“Not you,” said Gus, closing the blinds and handing a +rope to another brute. “Tie de ole one ter de bedpost.”</p> +<p>The mother screamed. A blow from a black fist in her +mouth, and the rope was tied.</p> +<p>With the strength of despair she tore at the cords, half +rising to her feet, while with mortal anguish she gasped:</p> +<p>“For God’s sake, spare my baby! Do as you will with +me, and kill me—do not touch her!”</p> +<p>Again the huge fist swept her to the floor.</p> +<p>Marion staggered against the wall, her face white, her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span> +delicate lips trembling with the chill of a fear colder than +death.</p> +<p>“We have no money—the deed has not been delivered,” +she pleaded, a sudden glimmer of hope flashing +in her blue eyes.</p> +<p>Gus stepped closer, with an ugly leer, his flat nose dilated, +his sinister bead eyes wide apart, gleaming apelike, +as he laughed:</p> +<p>“We ain’t atter money!”</p> +<p>The girl uttered a cry, long, tremulous, heart-rending, +piteous.</p> +<p>A single tiger spring, and the black claws of the beast +sank into the soft white throat and she was still.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII_AT_THE_DAWN_OF_DAY' id='XII_AT_THE_DAWN_OF_DAY'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>At the Dawn of Day</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>It was three o’clock before Marion regained consciousness, +crawled to her mother, and crouched in +dumb convulsions in her arms.</p> +<p>“What can we do, my darling?” the mother asked at last.</p> +<p>“Die—thank God, we have the strength left!”</p> +<p>“Yes, my love,” was the faint answer.</p> +<p>“No one must ever know. We will hide quickly every +trace of crime. They will think we strolled to Lover’s +Leap and fell over the cliff, and my name will always +be sweet and clean—you understand—come, we must +hurry——”</p> +<p>With swift hands, her blue eyes shining with a strange +light, the girl removed the shreds of torn clothes, bathed, +and put on the dress of spotless white she wore the night +Ben Cameron kissed her and called her a heroine.</p> +<p>The mother cleaned and swept the room, piled the torn +clothes and cord in the fireplace and burned them, dressed +herself as if for a walk, softly closed the doors, and hurried +with her daughter along the old pathway through the +moonlit woods.</p> +<p>At the edge of the forest she stopped and looked back +tenderly at the little home shining amid the roses, caught +their faint perfume and faltered: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span></p> +<p>“Let’s go back a minute—I want to see his room, and +kiss Henry’s picture again.”</p> +<p>“No, we are going to him now—I hear him calling us +in the mists above the cliff,” said the girl—“come, we +must hurry. We might go mad and fail!”</p> +<p>Down the dim cathedral aisles of the woods, hallowed +by tender memories, through which the poet lover and +father had taught them to walk with reverent feet and +without fear, they fled to the old meeting-place of Love.</p> +<p>On the brink of the precipice, the mother trembled, +paused, drew back, and gasped:</p> +<p>“Are you not afraid, my dear?”</p> +<p>“No; death is sweet now,” said the girl. “I fear only +the pity of those we love.”</p> +<p>“Is there no other way? We might go among strangers,” +pleaded the mother.</p> +<p>“We could not escape ourselves! The thought of life is +torture. Only those who hate me could wish that I live. +The grave will be soft and cool, the light of day a burning +shame.”</p> +<p>“Come back to the seat a moment—let me tell you my +love again,” urged the mother. “Life still is dear while +I hold your hand.”</p> +<p>As they sat in brooding anguish, floating up from the +river valley came the music of a banjo in a negro cabin, +mingled with vulgar shout and song and dance. A verse +of the ribald senseless lay of the player echoed above the +banjo’s pert refrain:</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>“Chicken in de bread tray, pickin’ up dough;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Granny, will your dog bite? No, chile, no!”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span></div> +<p>The mother shivered and drew Marion closer.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear! oh, dear! has it come to this—all my +hopes of your beautiful life!”</p> +<p>The girl lifted her head and kissed the quivering +lips.</p> +<p>“With what loving wonder we saw you grow,” she +sighed, “from a tottering babe on to the hour we watched +the mystic light of maidenhood dawn in your blue eyes—and +all to end in this hideous, leprous shame. No—No! +I will not have it! It’s only a horrible dream! God is +not dead!”</p> +<p>The young mother sank to her knees and buried her +face in Marion’s lap in a hopeless paroxysm of grief.</p> +<p>The girl bent, kissed the curling hair, and smoothed it +with her soft hand.</p> +<p>A sparrow chirped in the tree above, a wren twittered +in a bush, and down on the river’s bank a mocking-bird +softly waked his mate with a note of thrilling sweetness. +“The morning is coming, dearest; we must go,” said +Marion. “This shame I can never forget, nor will the +world forget. Death is the only way.”</p> +<p>They walked to the brink, and the mother’s arms stole +round the girl.</p> +<p>“Oh, my baby, my beautiful darling, life of my life, +heart of my heart, soul of my soul!”</p> +<p>They stood for a moment, as if listening to the music of +the falls, looking out over the valley faintly outlining itself +in the dawn. The first far-away streaks of blue +light on the mountain ranges, defining distance, slowly +appeared. A fresh motionless day brooded over the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span> +world as the amorous stir of the spirit of morning rose +from the moist earth of the fields below.</p> +<p>A bright star still shone in the sky, and the face of the +mother gazed on it intently. Did the Woman-spirit, the +burning focus of the fiercest desire to live and will, catch +in this supreme moment the star’s Divine speech before +which all human passions sink into silence? Perhaps, +for she smiled. The daughter answered with a smile; +and then, hand in hand, they stepped from the cliff into +the mists and on through the opal gates of death. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span></p> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>Book IV—The Ku Klux Klan</p> +</div> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_THE_HUNT_FOR_THE_ANIMAL' id='I_THE_HUNT_FOR_THE_ANIMAL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Hunt for the Animal</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Aunt Cindy came at seven o’clock to get breakfast, +and finding the house closed and no one at +home, supposed Mrs. Lenoir and Marion had +remained at the Cameron House for the night. She sat +down on the steps, waited grumblingly an hour, and then +hurried to the hotel to scold her former mistress for keeping +her out so long.</p> +<p>Accustomed to enter familiarly, she thrust her head +into the dining-room, where the family were at breakfast +with a solitary guest, muttering the speech she had been +rehearsing on the way:</p> +<p>“I lak ter know what sort er way dis—whar’s Miss +Jeannie?”</p> +<p>Ben leaped to his feet.</p> +<p>“Isn’t she at home?”</p> +<p>“Been waitin’ dar two hours.”</p> +<p>“Great God!” he groaned, springing through the door +and rushing to saddle the mare. As he left he called to +his father: “Let no one know till I return.”</p> +<p>At the house he could find no trace of the crime he had +suspected. Every room was in perfect order. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span> +searched the yard carefully and under the cedar by the +window he saw the barefoot tracks of a negro. The +white man was never born who could make that track. +The enormous heel projected backward, and in the hollow +of the instep where the dirt would scarcely be touched by +an Aryan was the deep wide mark of the African’s flat +foot. He carefully measured it, brought from an outhouse +a box, and fastened it over the spot.</p> +<p>It might have been an ordinary chicken thief, of +course. He could not tell, but it was a fact of big import. +A sudden hope flashed through his mind that they might +have risen with the sun and strolled to their favourite +haunt at Lover’s Leap.</p> +<p>In two minutes he was there, gazing with hard-set eyes +at Marion’s hat and handkerchief lying on the shelving rock.</p> +<p>The mare bent her glistening neck, touched the hat +with her nose, lifted her head, dilated her delicate nostrils, +looked out over the cliff with her great soft half-human +eyes and whinnied gently.</p> +<p>Ben leaped to the ground, picked up the handkerchief, +and looked at the initials, “M. L.,” worked in the corner. +He knew what lay on the river’s brink below as well as if +he stood over the dead bodies. He kissed the letters of +her name, crushed the handkerchief in his locked hands, +and cried:</p> +<p>“Now, Lord God, give me strength for the service of +my people!”</p> +<p>He hurriedly examined the ground, amazed to find no +trace of a struggle or crime. Could it be possible they +had ventured too near the brink and fallen over? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span></p> +<p>He hurried to report to his father his discoveries, instructed +his mother and Margaret to keep the servants +quiet until the truth was known, and the two men returned +along the river’s brink to the foot of the cliff.</p> +<p>They found the bodies close to the water’s edge, +Marion had been killed instantly. Her fair blonde head +lay in a crimson circle sharply defined in the white sand. +But the mother was still warm with life. She had scarcely +ceased to breathe. In one last desperate throb of love the +trembling soul had dragged the dying body to the girl’s +side, and she had died with her head resting on the fair +round neck as though she had kissed her and fallen asleep.</p> +<p>Father and son clasped hands and stood for a moment +with uncovered heads. The doctor said at length:</p> +<p>“Go to the coroner at once and see that he summons +the jury <i>you</i> select and hand to him. Bring them immediately. +I will examine the bodies before they arrive.”</p> +<p>Ben took the negro coroner into his office alone, turned +the key, told him of the discovery, and handed him the +list of the jury.</p> +<p>“I’ll hatter see Mr. Lynch fust, sah,” he answered.</p> +<p>Ben placed his hand on his hip pocket and said coldly:</p> +<p>“Put your cross-mark on those forms I’ve made out +there for you, go with me immediately, and summon these +men. If you dare put a negro on this jury, or open your +mouth as to what has occurred in this room, I’ll kill +you.”</p> +<p>The negro tremblingly did as he was commanded.</p> +<p>The coroner’s jury reported that the mother and daughter +had been killed by accidentally failing over the cliff. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span></p> +<p>In all the throng of grief-stricken friends who came to +the little cottage that day, but two men knew the hell-lit +secret beneath the tragedy.</p> +<p>When the bodies reached the home, Doctor Cameron +placed Mrs. Cameron and Margaret outside to receive +visitors and prevent any one from disturbing him. He +took Ben into the room and locked the doors.</p> +<p>“My boy, I wish you to witness an experiment.”</p> +<p>He drew from its case a powerful microscope of French +make.</p> +<p>“What on earth are you going to do, sir?”</p> +<p>The doctor’s brilliant eyes flashed with a mystic light +as he replied:</p> +<p>“Find the fiend who did this crime—and then we will +hang him on a gallows so high that all men from the rivers +to ends of the earth shall see and feel and know the might +of an unconquerable race of men.”</p> +<p>“But there’s no trace of him here.”</p> +<p>“We shall see,” said the doctor, adjusting his instrument.</p> +<p>“I believe that a microscope of sufficient power will +reveal on the retina of these dead eyes the image of this +devil as if etched there by fire. The experiment has been +made successfully in France. No word or deed of man +is lost. A German scholar has a memory so wonderful +he can repeat whole volumes of Latin, German, and +French without an error. A Russian officer has been +known to repeat the roll-call of any regiment by reading +it twice. Psychologists hold that nothing is lost from the +memory of man. Impressions remain in the brain like +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span> +words written on paper in invisible ink. So I believe of +images in the eye if we can trace them early enough. If +no impression were made subsequently on the mother’s +eye by the light of day, I believe the fire-etched record of +this crime can yet be traced.”</p> +<p>Ben watched him with breathless interest.</p> +<p>He first examined Marion’s eyes. But in the cold +azure blue of their pure depths he could find nothing.</p> +<p>“It’s as I feared with the child,” he said. “I can see +nothing. It is on the mother I rely. In the splendour of +life, at thirty-seven she was the full-blown perfection +of womanhood, with every vital force at its highest tension——”</p> +<p>He looked long and patiently into the dead mother’s +eye, rose and wiped the perspiration from his face.</p> +<p>“What is it, sir?” asked Ben.</p> +<p>Without reply, as if in a trance, he returned to the +microscope and again rose with the little, quick, nervous +cough he gave only in the greatest excitement, and whispered:</p> +<p>“Look now and tell me what you see.”</p> +<p>Ben looked and said:</p> +<p>“I can see nothing.”</p> +<p>“Your powers of vision are not trained as mine,” replied +the doctor, resuming his place at the instrument.</p> +<p>“What do you see?” asked the younger man, bending +nervously.</p> +<p>“The bestial figure of a negro—his huge black hand +plainly defined—the upper part of the face is dim, as if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span> +obscured by a gray mist of dawn—but the massive jaws +and lips are clear—merciful God—yes—it’s Gus!”</p> +<p>The doctor leaped to his feet livid with excitement.</p> +<p>Ben bent again, looked long and eagerly, but could see +nothing.</p> +<p>“I’m afraid the image is in your eye, sir, not the +mother’s,” said Ben sadly.</p> +<p>“That’s possible, of course,” said the doctor, “yet I +don’t believe it.”</p> +<p>“I’ve thought of the same scoundrel and tried blood +hounds on that track, but for some reason they couldn’t +follow it. I suspected him from the first, and especially +since learning that he left for Columbia on the early morning +train on pretended official business.”</p> +<p>“Then I’m not mistaken,” insisted the doctor, trembling +with excitement. “Now do as I tell you. Find +when he returns. Capture him, bind, gag, and carry him +to your meeting-place under the cliff, and let me know.”</p> +<p>On the afternoon of the funeral, two days later, Ben +received a cypher telegram from the conductor on the +train telling him that Gus was on the evening mail due at +Piedmont at nine o’clock.</p> +<p>The papers had been filled with accounts of the accident, +and an enormous crowd from the county and many +admirers of the fiery lyrics of the poet father had come +from distant parts to honour his name. All business was +suspended, and the entire white population of the village +followed the bodies to their last resting-place.</p> +<p>As the crowds returned to their homes, no notice was +taken of a dozen men on horseback who rode out of town +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span> +by different ways about dusk. At eight o’clock they met +in the woods near the first little flag-station located on +McAllister’s farm four miles from Piedmont, where a +buggy awaited them. Two men of powerful build, who +were strangers in the county, alighted from the buggy and +walked along the track to board the train at the station +three miles beyond and confer with the conductor.</p> +<p>The men, who gathered in the woods, dismounted, removed +their saddles, and from the folds of the blankets +took a white disguise for horse and man. In a moment it +was fitted on each horse, with buckles at the throat, +breast, and tail, and the saddles replaced. The white robe +for the man was made in the form of an ulster overcoat +with cape, the skirt extending to the top of the shoes. +From the red belt at the waist were swung two revolvers +which had been concealed in their pockets. On each man’s +breast was a scarlet circle within which shone a white +cross. The same scarlet circle and cross appeared on the +horse’s breast, while on his flanks flamed the three red +mystic letters, K. K. K. Each man wore a white cap, +from the edges of which fell a piece of cloth extending to +the shoulders. Beneath the visor was an opening for the +eyes and lower down one for the mouth. On the front of +the caps of two of the men appeared the red wings of a +hawk as the ensign of rank. From the top of each cap +rose eighteen inches high a single spike held erect by a +twisted wire. The disguises for man and horse were made +of cheap unbleached domestic and weighed less than three +pounds. They were easily folded within a blanket and +kept under the saddle in a crowd without discovery. It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span> +required less than two minutes to remove the saddles, +place the disguises, and remount.</p> +<p>At the signal of a whistle, the men and horses arrayed in +white and scarlet swung into double-file cavalry formation +and stood awaiting orders. The moon was now +shining brightly, and its light shimmering on the silent +horses and men with their tall spiked caps made a picture +such as the world had not seen since the Knights of the +Middle Ages rode on their Holy Crusades.</p> +<p>As the train neared the flag-station, which was dark +and unattended, the conductor approached Gus, leaned +over, and said: “I’ve just gotten a message from the sheriff +telling me to warn you to get off at this station and slip +into town. There’s a crowd at the depot there waiting +for you and they mean trouble.”</p> +<p>Gus trembled and whispered:</p> +<p>“Den fur Gawd’s sake lemme off here.”</p> +<p>The two men who got on at the station below stepped +out before the negro, and as he alighted from the car, +seized, tripped, and threw him to the ground. The engineer +blew a sharp signal, and the train pulled on.</p> +<p>In a minute Gus was bound and gagged.</p> +<p>One of the men drew a whistle and blew twice. A +single tremulous call like the cry of an owl answered. +The swift beat of horses’ feet followed, and four white-and-scarlet +clansmen swept in a circle around the +group.</p> +<p>One of the strangers turned to the horseman with red-winged +ensign on his cap, saluted, and said:</p> +<p>“Here’s your man, Night Hawk.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span></p> +<p>“Thanks, gentlemen,” was the answer. “Let us know +when we can be of service to your county.”</p> +<p>The strangers sprang into their buggy and disappeared +toward the North Carolina line.</p> +<p>The clansmen blindfolded the negro, placed him on a +horse, tied his legs securely, and his arms behind him to +the ring in the saddle.</p> +<p>The Night Hawk blew his whistle four sharp blasts, and +his pickets galloped from their positions and joined him.</p> +<p>Again the signal rang, and his men wheeled with the +precision of trained cavalrymen into column formation +three abreast, and rode toward Piedmont, the single black +figure tied and gagged in the centre of the white-and-scarlet +squadron.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_THE_FIERY_CROSS' id='II_THE_FIERY_CROSS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Fiery Cross</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>The clansmen with their prisoner skirted the +village and halted in the woods on the river +bank. The Night Hawk signalled for single file, +and in a few minutes they stood against the cliff under +Lover’s Leap and saluted their chief, who sat his horse, +awaiting their arrival.</p> +<p>Pickets were placed in each direction on the narrow +path by which the spot was approached, and one was sent +to stand guard on the shelving rock above.</p> +<p>Through the narrow crooked entrance they led Gus into +the cave which had been the rendezvous of the Piedmont +Den of the Clan since its formation. The meeting-place +was a grand hall eighty feet deep, fifty feet wide, and more +than forty feet in height, which had been carved out of the +stone by the swift current of the river in ages past when +its waters stood at a higher level.</p> +<p>To-night it was lighted by candles placed on the ledges +of the walls. In the centre, on a fallen boulder, sat the +Grand Cyclops of the Den, the presiding officer of the +township, his rank marked by scarlet stripes on the white-cloth +spike of his cap. Around him stood twenty or more +clansmen in their uniform, completely disguised. One +among them wore a yellow sash, trimmed in gold, about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span> +his waist, and on his breast two yellow circles with red +crosses interlapping, denoting his rank to be the Grand +Dragon of the Realm, or Commander-in-Chief of the +State.</p> +<p>The Cyclops rose from his seat:</p> +<p>“Let the Grand Turk remove his prisoner for a moment +and place him in charge of the Grand Sentinel at the door, +until summoned.”</p> +<p>The officer disappeared with Gus, and the Cyclops +continued:</p> +<p>“The Chaplain will open our Council with prayer.”</p> +<p>Solemnly every white-shrouded figure knelt on the +ground, and the voice of the Rev. Hugh McAlpin, trembling +with feeling, echoed through the cave:</p> +<p>“Lord God of our Fathers, as in times past thy children, +fleeing from the oppressor, found refuge beneath the earth +until once more the sun of righteousness rose, so are we +met to-night. As we wrestle with the powers of darkness +now strangling our life, give to our souls to endure as +seeing the invisible, and to our right arms the strength of +the martyred dead of our people. Have mercy on the +poor, the weak, the innocent and defenceless, and deliver +us from the body of the Black Death. In a land of light +and beauty and love our women are prisoners of danger +and fear. While the heathen walks his native heath unharmed +and unafraid, in this fair Christian Southland +our sisters, wives, and daughters dare not stroll at twilight +through the streets or step beyond the highway at noon. +The terror of the twilight deepens with the darkness, and +the stoutest heart grows sick with fear for the red message +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320' name='page_320'></a>320</span> +the morning bringeth. Forgive our sins—they are many—but +hide not thy face from us, O God, for thou art our +refuge!”</p> +<p>As the last echoes of the prayer lingered and died in the +vaulted roof, the clansmen rose and stood a moment in +silence.</p> +<p>Again the voice of the Cyclops broke the stillness:</p> +<p>“Brethren, we are met to-night at the request of the +Grand Dragon of the Realm, who has honoured us with +his presence, to constitute a High Court for the trial of a +case involving life. Are the Night Hawks ready to submit +their evidence?”</p> +<p>“We are ready,” came the answer.</p> +<p>“Then let the Grand Scribe read the objects of the +Order on which your authority rests.”</p> +<p>The Scribe opened his Book of Record, “<i>The Prescript +of the Order of the Invisible Empire</i>,” and solemnly read:</p> +<p>“To the lovers of law and order, peace and justice, and +to the shades of the venerated dead, greeting:</p> +<p>“This is an institution of Chivalry, Humanity, Mercy, +and Patriotism: embodying in its genius and principles all +that is chivalric in conduct, noble in sentiment, generous +in manhood, and patriotic in purpose: its particular +objects being,</p> +<p>“First: To protect the weak, the innocent, and the +defenceless from the indignities, wrongs, and outrages of +the lawless, the violent, and the brutal; to relieve the injured +and the oppressed: to succour the suffering and unfortunate, +and especially the widows and the orphans of +Confederate Soldiers. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321' name='page_321'></a>321</span></p> +<p>“Second: To protect and defend the Constitution of +the United States, and all the laws passed in conformity +thereto, and to protect the States and the people thereof +from all invasion from any source whatever.</p> +<p>“Third: To aid and assist in the execution of all Constitutional +laws, and to protect the people from unlawful +seizure, and from trial except by their peers in conformity +to the laws of the land.”</p> +<p>“The Night Hawks will produce their evidence,” said +the Cyclops, “and the Grand Monk will conduct the case +of the people against the negro Augustus Cćsar, the +former slave of Dr. Richard Cameron.”</p> +<p>Dr. Cameron advanced and removed his cap. His +snow-white hair and beard, ruddy face and dark-brown +brilliant eyes made a strange picture in its weird surroundings, +like an ancient alchemist ready to conduct +some daring experiment in the problem of life.</p> +<p>“I am here, brethren,” he said, “to accuse the black +brute about to appear of the crime of assault on a daughter +of the South——”</p> +<p>A murmur of thrilling surprise and horror swept the +crowd of white-and-scarlet figures as with one common +impulse they moved closer.</p> +<p>“His feet have been measured and they exactly tally +with the negro tracks found under the window of the Lenoir +cottage. His flight to Columbia and return on the +publication of their deaths as an accident is a confirmation +of our case. I will not relate to you the scientific experiment +which first fixed my suspicion of this man’s +guilt. My witness could not confirm it, and it might not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322' name='page_322'></a>322</span> +be to you credible. But this negro is peculiarly sensitive +to hypnotic influence. I propose to put him under this +power to-night before you, and, if he is guilty, I can make +him tell his confederates, describe and rehearse the crime +itself.”</p> +<p>The Night Hawks led Gus before Doctor Cameron, +untied his hands, removed the gag, and slipped the blindfold +from his head.</p> +<p>Under the doctor’s rigid gaze the negro’s knees struck +together, and he collapsed into complete hypnosis, merely +lifting his huge paws lamely as if to ward a blow.</p> +<p>They seated him on the boulder from which the Cyclops +rose, and Gus stared about the cave and grinned as if in a +dream seeing nothing.</p> +<p>The doctor recalled to him the day of the crime, and he +began to talk to his three confederates, describing his plot +in detail, now and then pausing and breaking into a +fiendish laugh.</p> +<p>Old McAllister, who had three lovely daughters at +home, threw off his cap, sank to his knees, and buried his +face in his hands, while a dozen of the white figures +crowded closer, nervously gripping the revolvers which +hung from their red belts.</p> +<p>Doctor Cameron pushed them back and lifted his hand +in warning.</p> +<p>The negro began to live the crime with fearful realism—the +journey past the hotel to make sure the victims had +gone to their home; the visit to Aunt Cindy’s cabin to +find her there; lying in the field waiting for the last light +of the village to go out; gloating with vulgar exultation +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323' name='page_323'></a>323</span> +over their plot, and planning other crimes to follow its +success—how they crept along the shadows of the hedgerow +of the lawn to avoid the moonlight, stood under the +cedar, and through the open windows watched the mother +and daughter laughing and talking within——</p> +<p>“Min’ what I tells you now—Tie de ole one, when I +gib you de rope,” said Gus in a whisper.</p> +<p>“My God!” cried the agonized voice of the figure with +the double cross—“that’s what the piece of burnt rope in +the fireplace meant!”</p> +<p>Doctor Cameron again lifted his hand for silence.</p> +<p>Now they burst into the room, and with the light of hell +in his beady, yellow-splotched eyes, Gus gripped his imaginary +revolver and growled:</p> +<p>“Scream, an’ I blow yer brains out!”</p> +<p>In spite of Doctor Cameron’s warning, the white-robed +figures jostled and pressed closer——</p> +<p>Gus rose to his feet and started across the cave as if to +spring on the shivering figure of the girl, the clansmen +with muttered groans, sobs, and curses falling back as he +advanced. He still wore his full Captain’s uniform, its +heavy epaulets flashing their gold in the unearthly light, +his beastly jaws half covering the gold braid on the collar. +His thick lips were drawn upward in an ugly leer and his +sinister bead eyes gleamed like a gorilla’s. A single +fierce leap and the black claws clutched the air slowly as +if sinking into the soft white throat.</p> +<p>Strong men began to cry like children.</p> +<p>“Stop him! Stop him!” screamed a clansman, springing +on the negro and grinding his heel into his big thick +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324' name='page_324'></a>324</span> +neck. A dozen more were on him in a moment, kicking, +stamping, cursing, and crying like madmen.</p> +<p>Doctor Cameron leaped forward and beat them off:</p> +<p>“Men! Men! You must not kill him in this condition!”</p> +<p>Some of the white figures had fallen prostrate on the +ground, sobbing in a frenzy of uncontrollable emotion. +Some were leaning against the walls, their faces buried +in their arms.</p> +<p>Again old McAllister was on his knees crying over and +over again:</p> +<p>“God have mercy on my people!”</p> +<p>When at length quiet was restored, the negro was revived, +and again bound, blindfolded, gagged, and thrown +to the ground before the Grand Cyclops.</p> +<p>A sudden inspiration flashed in Doctor Cameron’s eyes. +Turning to the figure with yellow sash and double cross +he said:</p> +<p>“Issue your orders and despatch your courier to-night +with the old Scottish rite of the Fiery Cross. It will send +a thrill of inspiration to every clansman in the hills.”</p> +<p>“Good—prepare it quickly!” was the answer.</p> +<p>Doctor Cameron opened his medicine case, drew the +silver drinking-cover from a flask, and passed out of the +cave to the dark circle of blood still shining in the sand by +the water’s edge. He knelt and filled the cup half full of +the crimson grains, and dipped it into the river. From a +saddle he took the lightwood torch, returned within, and +placed the cup on the boulder on which the Grand +Cyclops had sat. He loosed the bundle of lightwood, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325' name='page_325'></a>325</span> +took two pieces, tied them into the form of a cross, and +laid it beside a lighted candle near the silver cup.</p> +<p>The silent figures watched his every movement. He +lifted the cup and said:</p> +<p>“Brethren, I hold in my hand the water of your river +bearing the red stain of the life of a Southern woman, a +priceless sacrifice on the altar of outraged civilization. +Hear the message of your chief.”</p> +<p>The tall figure with the yellow sash and double cross +stepped before the strange altar, while the white forms +of the clansmen gathered about him in a circle. He +lifted his cap, and laid it on the boulder, and his men +gazed on the flushed face of Ben Cameron, the Grand +Dragon of the Realm.</p> +<p>He stood for a moment silent, erect, a smouldering +fierceness in his eyes, something cruel and yet magnetic in +his alert bearing.</p> +<p>He looked on the prostrate negro lying in his uniform +at his feet, seized the cross, lighted the three upper ends +and held it blazing in his hand, while, in a voice full of the +fires of feeling, he said:</p> +<p>“Men of the South, the time for words has passed, the +hour for action has struck. The Grand Turk will execute +this negro to-night and fling his body on the lawn of the +black Lieutenant-Governor of the State.”</p> +<p>The Grand Turk bowed.</p> +<p>“I ask for the swiftest messenger of this Den who can +ride till dawn.”</p> +<p>The man whom Doctor Cameron had already chosen +stepped forward: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326' name='page_326'></a>326</span></p> +<p>“Carry my summons to the Grand Titan of the adjoining +province in North Carolina whom you will find at +Hambright. Tell him the story of this crime and what +you have seen and heard. Ask him to report to me here +the second night from this, at eleven o’clock, with six +Grand Giants from his adjoining counties, each accompanied +by two hundred picked men. In olden times +when the Chieftain of our people summoned the clan on +an errand of life and death, the Fiery Cross, extinguished +in sacrificial blood, was sent by swift courier from village +to village. This call was never made in vain, nor will it +be to-night, in the new world. Here, on this spot made +holy ground by the blood of those we hold dearer than +life, I raise the ancient symbol of an unconquered race +of men——”</p> +<p>High above his head in the darkness of the cave he +lifted the blazing emblem——</p> +<p>“The Fiery Cross of old Scotland’s hills! I quench +its flames in the sweetest blood that ever stained the +sands of Time.”</p> +<p>He dipped its ends in the silver cup, extinguished the +fire, and handed the charred symbol to the courier, who +quickly disappeared.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_THE_PARTING_OF_THE_WAYS' id='III_THE_PARTING_OF_THE_WAYS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327' name='page_327'></a>327</span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Parting of the Ways</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>The discovery of the Captain of the African +Guards lying in his full uniform in Lynch’s +yard send a thrill of terror to the triumphant +leagues. Across the breast of the body was pinned a scrap +of paper on which was written in red ink the letters K. +K. K. It was the first actual evidence of the existence +of this dreaded order in Ulster county.</p> +<p>The First Lieutenant of the Guards assumed command +and held the full company in their armoury under arms +day and night. Beneath his door he had found a notice +which was also nailed on the courthouse. It appeared +in the Piedmont <i>Eagle</i> and in rapid succession in every +newspaper not under negro influence in the State. It +read as follows:</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<div class='ra'> +<p style='margin-right:4em;'>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Headquarters of Realm No 4.</span></p> +<p style='margin-right:2em;'>”<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Dreadful Era, Black Epoch,</span></p> +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Hideous Hour.</span></p> +</div> + +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>General Order No. I.</span></p> +<p>“The Negro Militia now organized in this State threatens +the extinction of civilization. They have avowed their purpose +to make war upon and exterminate the Ku Klux Klan, an +organization which is now the sole guardian of Society. All +negroes are hereby given forty-eight hours from the publication +of this notice in their respective counties to surrender +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328' name='page_328'></a>328</span> +their arms at the courthouse door. Those who refuse must +take the consequences.</p> +<p>“By order of the G. D. of Realm No. 4.</p> +<p>“By the Grand Scribe.”</p> +</div> +<p>The white people of Piedmont read this notice with a +thrill of exultant joy. Men walked the streets with an +erect bearing which said without words:</p> +<p>“Stand out of the way.”</p> +<p>For the first time since the dawn of Black Rule negroes +began to yield to white men and women the right of way +on the streets.</p> +<p>On the day following, the old Commoner sent for Phil.</p> +<p>“What is the latest news?” he asked.</p> +<p>“The town is in a fever of excitement—not over the +discovery in Lynch’s yard—but over the blacker rumour +that Marion and her mother committed suicide to conceal +an assault by this fiend.”</p> +<p>“A trumped-up lie,” said the old man emphatically.</p> +<p>“It’s true, sir. I’ll take Doctor Cameron’s word for +it.”</p> +<p>“You have just come from the Camerons?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Let it be your last visit. The Camerons are on the +road to the gallows, father and son. Lynch informs me +that the murder committed last night, and the insolent +notice nailed on the courthouse door, could have come +only from their brain. They are the hereditary leaders of +these people. They alone would have the audacity to +fling this crime into the teeth of the world and threaten +worse. We are face to face with Southern barbarism. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329' name='page_329'></a>329</span> +Every man now to his own standard! The house of +Stoneman can have no part with midnight assassins.”</p> +<p>“Nor with black barbarians, father. It is a question of +who possesses the right of life and death over the citizen, +the organized virtue of the community, or its organized +crime. You have mistaken for death the patience of a +generous people. We call ourselves the champions of +liberty. Yet for less than they have suffered, kings have +lost their heads and empires perished before the wrath of +freemen.”</p> +<p>“My boy, this is not a question for argument between +us,” said the father with stern emphasis. “This conspiracy +of terror and assassination threatens to shatter +my work to atoms. The election on which turns the destiny +of Congress, and the success or failure of my life, is +but a few weeks away. Unless this foul conspiracy is +crushed, I am ruined, and the Nation falls again beneath +the heel of a slaveholders’ oligarchy.”</p> +<p>“Your nightmare of a slaveholders’ oligarchy does not +disturb me.”</p> +<p>“At least you will have the decency to break your +affair with Margaret Cameron pending the issue of my +struggle of life and death with her father and brother?”</p> +<p>“Never.”</p> +<p>“Then I will do it for you.”</p> +<p>“I warn you, sir,” Phil cried, with anger, “that if it +comes to an issue of race against race, I am a white man. +The ghastly tragedy of the condition of society here is +something for which the people of the South are no longer +responsible——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330' name='page_330'></a>330</span></p> +<p>“I’ll take the responsibility!” growled the old cynic.</p> +<p>“Don’t ask me to share it,” said the younger man +emphatically.</p> +<p>The father winced, his lips trembled, and he answered +brokenly:</p> +<p>“My boy, this is the bitterest hour of my life that has +had little to make it sweet. To hear such words from you +is more than I can bear. I am an old man now—my +sands are nearly run. But two human beings love me, +and I love but two. On you and your sister I have +lavished all the treasures of a maimed and strangled soul—and +it has come to this! Read the notice which one of +your friends thrust into the window of my bedroom last +night.”</p> +<p>He handed Phil a piece of paper on which was written:</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>“The old club-footed beast who has sneaked into our town, +pretending to search for health, in reality the leader of the +infernal Union League, will be given forty-eight hours to +vacate the house and rid this community of his presence.</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p>“K. K. K.”</p> +</div> + +</div> +<p>“Are you an officer of the Union League?” Phil asked +in surprise.</p> +<p>“I am its soul.”</p> +<p>“How could a Southerner discover this, if your own +children didn’t know it?”</p> +<p>“By their spies who have joined the League.”</p> +<p>“And do the rank and file know the Black Pope at the +head of the order?”</p> +<p>“No, but high officials do.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_331' name='page_331'></a>331</span></p> +<p>“Does Lynch?”</p> +<p>“Certainly.”</p> +<p>“Then he is the scoundrel who placed that note in your +room. It is a clumsy attempt to forge an order of the +Klan. The white man does not live in this town capable +of that act. I know these people.”</p> +<p>“My boy, you are bewitched by the smiles of a woman +to deny your own flesh and blood.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense, father—you are possessed by an idea which +has become an insane mania——”</p> +<p>“Will you respect my wishes?” the old man broke in +angrily.</p> +<p>“I will not,” was the clear answer. Phil turned and +left the room, and the old man’s massive head sank on his +breast in helpless baffled rage and grief.</p> +<p>He was more successful in his appeal to Elsie. He convinced +her of the genuineness of the threat against him. +The brutal reference to his lameness roused the girl’s soul. +When the old man, crushed by Phil’s desertion, broke +down the last reserve of his strange cold nature, tore his +wounded heart open to her, cried in agony over his deformity, +his lameness, and the anguish with which he saw the +threatened ruin of his life-work, she threw her arms around +his neck in a flood of tears and cried:</p> +<p>“Hush, father, I will not desert you. I will never leave +you, or wed without your blessing. If I find that my lover +was in any way responsible for this insult, I’ll tear his +image out of my heart and never speak his name again!”</p> +<p>She wrote a note to Ben, asking him to meet her at +sundown on horseback at Lover’s Leap. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_332' name='page_332'></a>332</span></p> +<p>Ben was elated at the unexpected request. He was +hungry for an hour with his sweetheart, whom he had not +seen save for a moment since the storm of excitement +broke following the discovery of the crime.</p> +<p>He hastened through his work of ordering the movement +of the Klan for the night, and determined to surprise +Elsie by meeting her in his uniform of a Grand Dragon.</p> +<p>Secure in her loyalty, he would deliberately thus put his +life in her hands. Using the water of a brook in the woods +for a mirror, he adjusted his yellow sash and pushed the +two revolvers back under the cape out of sight, saying to +himself with a laugh:</p> +<p>“Betray me? Well, if she does, life would not be +worth the living!”</p> +<p>When Elsie had recovered from the first shock of surprise +at the white horse and rider waiting for her under the +shadows of the old beech, her surprise gave way to grief +at the certainty of his guilt, and the greatness of his love +in thus placing his life without a question in her hands.</p> +<p>He tied the horses in the woods, and they sat down on +the rustic.</p> +<p>He removed his helmet cap, threw back the white cape +showing the scarlet lining, and the two golden circles with +their flaming crosses on his breast, with boyish pride. +The costume was becoming to his slender graceful figure, +and he knew it.</p> +<p>“You see, sweetheart, I hold high rank in the Empire,” +he whispered.</p> +<p>From beneath his cape he drew a long bundle which he +unrolled. It was a triangular flag of brilliant yellow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_333' name='page_333'></a>333</span> +edged in scarlet. In the centre of the yellow ground was +the figure of a huge black dragon with fiery red eyes and +tongue. Around it was a Latin motto worked in scarlet: +“<i>quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus</i>”—what +always, what everywhere, what by all has been held to be +true. “The battle-flag of the Klan,” he said; “the +standard of the Grand Dragon.”</p> +<p>Elsie seized his hand and kissed it, unable to speak.</p> +<p>“Why so serious to-night?”</p> +<p>“Do you love me very much?” she answered.</p> +<p>“Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay his +life at the feet of his beloved,” he responded tenderly.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes; I know—and that is why you are breaking +my heart. When first I met you—it seems now ages and +ages ago—I was a vain, self-willed, pert little thing——”</p> +<p>“It’s not so. I took you for an angel—you were one. +You are one to-night.”</p> +<p>“Now,” she went on slowly, “in what I have lived +through you I have grown into an impassioned, serious, +self-disciplined, bewildered woman. Your perfect trust to-night +is the sweetest revelation that can come to a woman’s +soul and yet it brings to me unspeakable pain——”</p> +<p>“For what?”</p> +<p>“You are guilty of murder.”</p> +<p>Ben’s figure stiffened.</p> +<p>“The judge who pronounces sentence of death on a +criminal outlawed by civilized society is not usually called +a murderer, my dear.”</p> +<p>“And by whose authority are you a judge?”</p> +<p>“By authority of the sovereign people who created the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_334' name='page_334'></a>334</span> +State of South Carolina. The criminals who claim to be +our officers are usurpers placed there by the subversion of +law.”</p> +<p>“Won’t you give this all up for my sake?” she pleaded. +“Believe me, you are in great danger.”</p> +<p>“Not so great as is the danger of my sister and mother +and my sweetheart—it is a man’s place to face danger,” +he gravely answered.</p> +<p>“This violence can only lead to your ruin and +shame——”</p> +<p>“I am fighting the battle of a race on whose fate hangs +the future of the South and the Nation. My ruin and +shame will be of small account if they are saved,” was the +even answer.</p> +<p>“Come, my dear,” she pleaded tenderly, “you know +that I have weighed the treasures of music and art and +given them all for one clasp of your hand, one throb of +your heart against mine. I should call you cruel did I +not know you are infinitely tender. This is the only +thing I have ever asked you to do for me——”</p> +<p>“Desert my people! You must not ask of me this +infamy, if you love me,” he cried.</p> +<p>“But, listen; this is wrong—this wild vengeance is a +crime you are doing, however great the provocation. We +cannot continue to love one another if you do this. Listen: +I love you better than father, mother, life, or career—all +my dreams I’ve lost in you. I’ve lived through +eternity to-day with my father——”</p> +<p>“You know me guiltless of the vulgar threat against +him——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_335' name='page_335'></a>335</span></p> +<p>“Yes, and yet you are the leader of desperate men who +might have done it. As I fought this battle to-day, I’ve +lost you, lost myself, and sunk down to the depths of despair, +and at the end rang the one weak cry of a woman’s +heart for her lover! Your frown can darken the brightest +sky. For your sake I can give up all save the sense of +right. I’ll walk by your side in life—lead you gently and +tenderly along the way of my dreams if I can, but if you +go your way, it shall be mine; and I shall still be glad +because you are there! See how humble I am—only you +must not commit crime!”</p> +<p>“Come, sweetheart, you must not use that word,” he +protested, with a touch of wounded pride.</p> +<p>“You are a conspirator——”</p> +<p>“I am a revolutionist.”</p> +<p>“You are committing murder!”</p> +<p>“I am waging war.”</p> +<p>Elsie leaped to her feet in a sudden rush of anger and +extended her hand:</p> +<p>“Good-bye. I shall not see you again. I do not +know you. You are still a stranger to me.”</p> +<p>He held her hand firmly.</p> +<p>“We must not part in anger,” he said slowly. “I have +grave work to do before the day dawns. We may not see +each other again.”</p> +<p>She led her horse to the seat quickly and without waiting +for his assistance sprang into the saddle.</p> +<p>“Do you not fear my betrayal of your secret?” she +asked.</p> +<p>He rode to her side, bent close, and whispered: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_336' name='page_336'></a>336</span></p> +<p>“It’s as safe as if locked in the heart of God.”</p> +<p>A little sob caught her voice, yet she said slowly in +firm tones:</p> +<p>“If another crime is committed in this county by your +Klan, we will never see each other again.”</p> +<p>He escorted her to the edge of the town without a +word, pressed her hand in silence, wheeled his horse, and +disappeared on the road to the North Carolina line.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_THE_BANNER_OF_THE_DRAGON' id='IV_THE_BANNER_OF_THE_DRAGON'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_337' name='page_337'></a>337</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Banner of the Dragon</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Ben Cameron rode rapidly to the rendezvous +of the pickets who were to meet the coming +squadrons.</p> +<p>He returned home and ate a hearty meal. As he +emerged from the dining-room, Phil seized him by the +arm and led him under the big oak on the lawn:</p> +<p>“Cameron, old boy, I’m in a lot of trouble. I’ve had a +quarrel with my father, and your sister has broken me all +up by returning my ring. I want a little excitement to +ease my nerves. From Elsie’s incoherent talk I judge +you are in danger. If there’s going to be a fight, let me +in.”</p> +<p>Ben took his hand:</p> +<p>“You’re the kind of a man I’d like to have for a +brother, and I’ll help you in love—but as for war—it’s +not your fight. We don’t need help.”</p> +<p>At ten o’clock Ben met the local Den at their rendezvous +under the cliff, to prepare for the events of the night.</p> +<p>The forty members present were drawn up before him +in double rank of twenty each.</p> +<p>“Brethren,” he said to them solemnly, “I have called +you to-night to take a step from which there can be no +retreat. We are going to make a daring experiment of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_338' name='page_338'></a>338</span> +the utmost importance. If there is a faint heart among +you, now is the time to retire——”</p> +<p>“We are with you!” cried the men.</p> +<p>“There are laws of our race, old before this Republic +was born in the souls of white freemen. The fiat of fools +has repealed on paper these laws. Your fathers who +created this Nation were first Conspirators, then Revolutionists, +now Patriots and Saints. I need to-night ten +volunteers to lead the coming clansmen over this county +and disarm every negro in it. The men from North Carolina +cannot be recognized. Each of you must run this +risk. Your absence from home to-night will be doubly +dangerous for what will be done here at this negro armoury +under my command. I ask of these ten men to ride their +horses until dawn, even unto death, to ride for their God, +their native land, and the womanhood of the South!</p> +<p>“To each man who accepts this dangerous mission I +offer for your bed the earth, for your canopy the sky, for +your bread stones; and when the flash of bayonets shall +fling into your face from the Square the challenge of +martial law, the protection I promise you—is exile, imprisonment, +and death! Let the ten men who accept +these terms step forward four paces.”</p> +<p>With a single impulse the whole double line of forty +white-and-scarlet figures moved quickly forward four steps!</p> +<p>The leader shook hands with each man, his voice +throbbing with emotion as he said:</p> +<p>“Stand together like this, men, and armies will march +and countermarch over the South in vain! We will save +the life of our people.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_339' name='page_339'></a>339</span></p> +<p>The ten guides selected by the Grand Dragon rode +forward, and each led a division of one hundred men +through the ten townships of the county and successfully +disarmed every negro before day without the loss of a life.</p> +<p>The remaining squadron of two hundred and fifty men +from Hambright, accompanied by the Grand Titan in +command of the Province of Western Hill Counties, were +led by Ben Cameron into Piedmont as the waning moon +rose between twelve and one o’clock.</p> +<p>They marched past Stoneman’s place on the way to the +negro armoury, which stood on the opposite side of the +street a block below.</p> +<p>The wild music of the beat of a thousand hoofs on the +cobblestones of the street waked every sleeper. The old +Commoner hobbled to his window and watched them +pass, his big hands fumbling nervously, and his soul +stirred to its depths.</p> +<p>The ghostlike shadowy columns moved slowly with the +deliberate consciousness of power. The scarlet circles on +their breasts could be easily seen when one turned toward +the house, as could the big red letters K. K. K. on each +horse’s flank.</p> +<p>In the centre of the line waved from a gold-tipped spear +the battle-flag of the Klan. As they passed the bright +lights burning at his gate, old Stoneman could see this +standard plainly. The huge black dragon with flaming +eyes and tongue seemed a living thing crawling over a +scarlet-tipped yellow cloud.</p> +<p>At the window above stood a little figure watching that +banner of the Dragon pass with aching heart. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_340' name='page_340'></a>340</span></p> +<p>Phil stood at another, smiling with admiration for their +daring:</p> +<p>“By George, it stirs the blood to see it! You can’t +crush men of that breed!”</p> +<p>The watchers were not long in doubt as to what the +raiders meant.</p> +<p>They deployed quickly around the armoury. A whistle +rang its shrill cry, and a volley of two hundred and fifty +carbines and revolvers smashed every glass in the building. +The sentinel had already given the alarm, and the +drum was calling the startled negroes to their arms. They +returned the volley twice, and for ten minutes were answered +with the steady crack of two hundred and fifty +guns. A white flag appeared at the door, and the firing +ceased. The negroes laid down their arms and surrendered. +All save three were allowed to go to their homes +for the night and carry their wounded with them.</p> +<p>The three confederates in the crime of their captain +were bound and led away. In a few minutes the crash +of a volley told their end.</p> +<p>The little white figure rapped at Phil’s door and placed +a trembling hand on his arm:</p> +<p>“Phil,” she said softly, “please go to the hotel and stay +until you know all that has happened—until you know +the full list of those killed and wounded. I’ll wait. You +understand?”</p> +<p>As he stooped and kissed her, he felt a hot tear roll +down her cheek.</p> +<p>“Yes, little Sis, I understand,” he answered.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_THE_REIGN_OF_THE_KLAN' id='V_THE_REIGN_OF_THE_KLAN'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_341' name='page_341'></a>341</span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Reign of the Klan</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>In quick succession every county followed the example +of Ulster, and the arms furnished the negroes +by the State and National governments were in the +hands of the Klan. The League began to collapse in a +panic of terror.</p> +<p>A gale of chivalrous passion and high action, contagious +and intoxicating, swept the white race. The +moral, mental, and physical earthquake which followed +the first assault on one of their daughters revealed the +unity of the racial life of the people. Within the span of +a week they had lived a century.</p> +<p>The spirit of the South “like lightning had at last +leaped forth, half startled at itself, its feet upon the ashes +and the rags,” its hands tight-gripped on the throat of +tyrant, thug, and thief.</p> +<p>It was the resistless movement of a race, not of any +man or leader of men. The secret weapon with which +they struck was the most terrible and efficient in human +history—these pale hosts of white-and-scarlet horsemen! +They struck shrouded in a mantle of darkness and terror. +They struck where the power of resistance was weakest +and the blow least suspected. Discovery or retaliation +was impossible. Not a single disguise was ever penetrated. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_342' name='page_342'></a>342</span> +All was planned and ordered as by destiny. The +accused was tried by secret tribunal, sentenced without +a hearing, executed in the dead of night without warning, +mercy, or appeal. The movements of the Klan were like +clockwork, without a word, save the whistle of the Night +Hawk, the crack of his revolver, and the hoofbeat of +swift horses moving like figures in a dream, and vanishing +in mists and shadows.</p> +<p>The old club-footed Puritan, in his mad scheme of vengeance +and party power, had overlooked the Covenanter, +the backbone of the South. This man had just begun to +fight! His race had defied the Crown of Great Britain +a hundred years from the caves and wilds of Scotland +and Ireland, taught the English people how to slay a +king and build a commonwealth, and, driven into exile +into the wilderness of America, led our Revolution, +peopled the hills of the South, and conquered the West.</p> +<p>As the young German patriots of 1812 had organized +the great struggle for their liberties under the noses of the +garrisons of Napoleon, so Ben Cameron had met the +leaders of his race in Nashville, Tennessee, within the +picket lines of thirty-five thousand hostile troops, and in +the ruins of an old homestead discussed and adopted the +ritual of the Invisible Empire.</p> +<p>Within a few months this Empire overspread a territory +larger than modern Europe. In the approaching +election it was reaching out its daring white hands to tear +the fruits of victory from twenty million victorious conquerors.</p> +<p>The triumph at which they aimed was one of incredible +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_343' name='page_343'></a>343</span> +grandeur. They had risen to snatch power out of defeat +and death. Under their clan leadership the Southern +people had suddenly developed the courage of the lion, +the cunning of the fox, and the deathless faith of religious +enthusiasts.</p> +<p>Society was fused in the white heat of one sublime +thought and beat with the pulse of the single will of the +Grand Wizard of the Klan of Memphis.</p> +<p>Women and children had eyes and saw not, ears and +heard not. Over four thousand disguises for men and +horses were made by the women of the South, and not one +secret ever passed their lips!</p> +<p>With magnificent audacity, infinite patience, and remorseless +zeal, a conquered people were struggling to +turn his own weapon against their conqueror, and beat +his brains out with the bludgeon he had placed in the +hands of their former slaves.</p> +<p>Behind the tragedy of Reconstruction stood the remarkable +man whose iron will alone had driven these +terrible measures through the chaos of passion, corruption, +and bewilderment which followed the first assassination +of an American President. As he leaned on his +window in this village of the South and watched in speechless +rage the struggle at that negro armoury, he felt for the +first time the foundations sinking beneath his feet. As +he saw the black cowards surrender in terror, noted the +indifference and cool defiance with which those white +horsemen rode and shot, he knew that he had collided +with the ultimate force which his whole scheme had overlooked. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_344' name='page_344'></a>344</span></p> +<p>He turned on his big club foot from the window, +clinched his fist and muttered:</p> +<p>“But I’ll hang that man for this deed if it’s the last act +of my life!”</p> +<p>The morning brought dismay to the negro, the carpet-bagger, +and the scallawag of Ulster. A peculiar freak of +weather in the early morning added to their terror. The +sun rose clear and bright except for a slight fog that +floated from the river valley, increasing the roar of the +falls. About nine o’clock a huge black shadow suddenly +rushed over Piedmont from the west, and in a moment the +town was shrouded in twilight. The cries of birds were +hushed and chickens went to roost as in a total eclipse of +the sun. Knots of people gathered on the streets and +gazed uneasily at the threatening skies. Hundreds of +negroes began to sing and shout and pray, while sensible +people feared a cyclone or cloud-burst. A furious downpour +of rain was swiftly followed by sunshine, and the +negroes rose from their knees, shouting with joy to find the +end of the world had after all been postponed.</p> +<p>But that the end of their brief reign in a white man’s +land had come, but few of them doubted. The events of +the night were sufficiently eloquent. The movement of +the clouds in sympathy was unnecessary.</p> +<p>Old Stoneman sent for Lynch, and found he had fled to +Columbia. He sent for the only lawyer in town whom +the Lieutenant-Governor had told him could be trusted.</p> +<p>The lawyer was polite, but his refusal to undertake the +prosecution of any alleged member of the Klan was emphatic. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_345' name='page_345'></a>345</span></p> +<p>“I’m a sinful man, sir,” he said with a smile. “Besides, +I prefer to live, on general principles.”</p> +<p>“I’ll pay you well,” urged the old man, “and if you +secure the conviction of Ben Cameron, the man we believe +to be the head of this Klan, I’ll give you ten thousand +dollars.”</p> +<p>The lawyer was whittling on a piece of pine meditatively.</p> +<p>“That’s a big lot of money in these hard times. I’d +like to own it, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t be good at the +bank on the other side. I prefer the green fields of +South Carolina to those of Eden. My harp isn’t in tune.”</p> +<p>Stoneman snorted in disgust:</p> +<p>“Will you ask the Mayor to call to see me at once?”</p> +<p>“We ain’t got none,” was the laconic answer.</p> +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> +<p>“Haven’t you heard what happened to his Honour +last night?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“The Klan called to see him,” went on the lawyer with +a quizzical look “at 3 A. M. Rather early for a visit of +state. They gave him forty-nine lashes on his bare back, +and persuaded him that the climate of Piedmont didn’t +agree with him. His Honour, Mayor Bizzel, left this +morning with his negro wife and brood of mulatto children +for his home, the slums of Cleveland, Ohio. We are +deprived of his illustrious example, and he may not be a +wiser man than when he came, but he’s a much sadder +one.”</p> +<p>Stoneman dismissed the even-tempered member of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_346' name='page_346'></a>346</span> +bar, and wired Lynch to return immediately to Piedmont. +He determined to conduct the prosecution of Ben Cameron +in person. With the aid of the Lieutenant-Governor +he succeeded in finding a man who would dare to swear out +a warrant against him.</p> +<p>As a preliminary skirmish he was charged with a violation +of the statutory laws of the United States relating +to Reconstruction and arraigned before a Commissioner.</p> +<p>Against Elsie’s agonizing protest, old Stoneman appeared +at the courthouse to conduct the prosecution.</p> +<p>In the absence of the United States Marshal, the warrant +had been placed in the hands of the sheriff, returnable +at ten o’clock on the morning fixed for the trial. The +new sheriff of Ulster was no less a personage than Uncle +Aleck, who had resigned his seat in the House to accept +the more profitable one of High Sheriff of the County.</p> +<p>There was a long delay in beginning the trial. At +10:30 not a single witness summoned had appeared, nor +had the prisoner seen fit to honour the court with his +presence.</p> +<p>Old Stoneman sat fumbling his hands in nervous, sullen +rage, while Phil looked on with amusement.</p> +<p>“Send for the sheriff,” he growled to the Commissioner.</p> +<p>In a moment Aleck appeared bowing humbly and politely +to every white man he passed. He bent halfway +to the floor before the Commissioner and said:</p> +<p>“Marse Ben be here in er minute, sah. He’s er eatin’ +his breakfus’. I run erlong erhead.”</p> +<p>Stoneman’s face was a thundercloud as he scrambled to +his feet and glared at Aleck: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_347' name='page_347'></a>347</span></p> +<p>“<i>Marse</i> Ben? Did you say <i>Marse</i> Ben? Who’s he?”</p> +<p>Aleck bowed low again.</p> +<p>“De young Colonel, sah—Marse Ben Cameron.”</p> +<p>“And you the sheriff of this county trotted along in +front to make the way smooth for your prisoner?”</p> +<p>“Yessah!”</p> +<p>“Is that the way you escort prisoners before a court?”</p> +<p>“Dem kin’ er prisoners—yessah.”</p> +<p>“Why didn’t you walk beside him?”</p> +<p>Aleck grinned from ear to ear and bowed very low:</p> +<p>“He say sumfin’ to me, sah!”</p> +<p>“And what did he say?”</p> +<p>Aleck shook his head and laughed:</p> +<p>“I hates ter insinuate ter de cote, sah!”</p> +<p>“What did he say to you?” thundered Stoneman.</p> +<p>“He say—he say—ef I walk ’longside er him—he +knock hell outen me, sah!”</p> +<p>“Indeed.”</p> +<p>“Yessah, en I ‘spec’ he would,” said Aleck insinuatingly. +“La, he’s a gemman, sah, he is! He tell me he +come right on. He be here sho’.”</p> +<p>Stoneman whispered to Lynch, turned with a look of +contempt to Aleck, and said:</p> +<p>“Mr. Sheriff, you interest me. Will you be kind +enough to explain to this court what has happened to you +lately to so miraculously change your manners?”</p> +<p>Aleck glanced around the room nervously.</p> +<p>“I seed sumfin’—a vision, sah!”</p> +<p>“A vision? Are you given to visions?”</p> +<p>“Na-sah. Dis yere wuz er sho’ ’nuff vision! I wuz er +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_348' name='page_348'></a>348</span> +feelin’ bad all day yistiddy. Soon in de mawnin’, ez I +wuz gwine ’long de road, I see a big black bird er settin’ on +de fence. He flop his wings, look right at me en say, +‘Corpse! Corpse! Corpse!’”—Aleck’s voice dropped +to a whisper—“’en las’ night de Ku Kluxes come ter see +me, sah!”</p> +<p>Stoneman lifted his beetling brows.</p> +<p>“That’s interesting. We are searching for information +on that subject.”</p> +<p>“Yessah! Dey wuz Sperits, ridin’ white hosses wid +flowin’ white robes, en big blood-red eyes! De hosses +wuz twenty feet high, en some er de Sperits wuz higher +dan dis cote-house! Dey wuz all bal’ headed, ’cept +right on de top whar dere wuz er straight blaze er fire shot +up in de air ten foot high!”</p> +<p>“What did they say to you?”</p> +<p>“Dey say dat ef I didn’t design de sheriff’s office, go back +ter farmin’ en behave myself, dey had er job waitin’ fer me +in hell, sah. En shos’ you born dey wuz right from dar!”</p> +<p>“Of course!” sneered the old Commoner.</p> +<p>“Yessah! Hit’s des lak I tell yer. One ob ’em makes +me fetch ’im er drink er water. I carry two bucketsful +ter ’im ‘fo’ I git done, en I swar ter God he drink it all +right dar ‘fo’ my eyes! He say hit wuz pow’ful dry down +below, sah! En den I feel sumfin’ bus’ loose inside er me, +en I disremember all dat come ter pass! I made er +jump fer de ribber bank, en de next I knowed I wuz er +pullin’ fur de odder sho’. I’se er pow’ful good swimmer, +sah, but I nebber git ercross er creek befo’ ez quick ez I +got ober de ribber las’ night.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_349' name='page_349'></a>349</span></p> +<p>“And you think of going back to farming?”</p> +<p>“I done begin plowin’ dis mornin’, marster!”</p> +<p>“<i>Don’t</i> you call me marster!” yelled the old man. +“Are you the sheriff of this county?”</p> +<p>Aleck laughed loudly.</p> +<p>“Na-sah! Dat’s er joke! I ain’t nuttin’ but er plain +nigger—I wants peace, judge.”</p> +<p>“Evidently we need a new sheriff.”</p> +<p>“Dat’s what I tell ’em, sah, dis mornin’—en I des +flings mysef on de ignance er de cote!”</p> +<p>Phil laughed aloud, and his father’s colourless eyes +began to spit cold poison.</p> +<p>“About what time do you think your master, Colonel +Cameron, will honour us with his presence?” he asked +Aleck.</p> +<p>Again the sheriff bowed.</p> +<p>“He’s er comin’ right now, lak I tole yer—he’s er gemman, +sah.”</p> +<p>Ben walked briskly into the room and confronted the +Commissioner.</p> +<p>Without apparently noticing his presence, Stoneman +said:</p> +<p>“In the absence of witnesses we accept the discharge +of this warrant, pending developments.”</p> +<p>Ben turned on his heel, pressed Phil’s hand as he passed +through the crowd, and disappeared.</p> +<p>The old Commoner drove to the telegraph office and +sent a message of more than a thousand words to the +White House, a copy of which the operator delivered to +Ben Cameron within an hour. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_350' name='page_350'></a>350</span></p> +<p>President Grant next morning issued a proclamation +declaring the nine Scotch-Irish hill counties of South +Carolina in a state of insurrection, ordered an army corps +of five thousand men to report there for duty, pending +the further necessity of martial law and the suspension +of the writ of <i>Habeas Corpus</i>.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_THE_COUNTER_STROKE' id='VI_THE_COUNTER_STROKE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_351' name='page_351'></a>351</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Counter Stroke</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>From the hour he had watched the capture of the +armoury old Stoneman felt in the air a current +against him which was electric, as if the dead +had heard the cry of the clansmen’s greeting, risen and +rallied to their pale ranks.</p> +<p>The daring campaign these men were waging took +his breath. They were going not only to defeat his delegation +to Congress, but send their own to take their seats, +reinforced by the enormous power of a suppressed negro +vote. The blow was so sublime in its audacity, he laughed +in secret admiration while he raved and cursed.</p> +<p>The army corps took possession of the hill counties, +quartering from five to six hundred regulars at each +courthouse; but the mischief was done. The State was on +fire. The eighty thousand rifles with which the negroes +had been armed were now in the hands of their foes. +A white rifle-club was organized in every town, village, +and hamlet. They attended the public meetings with +their guns, drilled in front of the speakers’ stands, yelled, +hooted, hissed, cursed, and jeered at the orators who +dared to champion or apologize for negro rule. At night +the hoofbeat of squadrons of pale horsemen and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_352' name='page_352'></a>352</span> +crack of their revolvers struck terror to the heart of every +negro, carpet-bagger, and scallawag.</p> +<p>There was a momentary lull in the excitement, which +Stoneman mistook for fear, at the appearance of the +troops. He had the Governor appoint a white sheriff, a +young scallawag from the mountains who was a noted +moonshiner and desperado. He arrested over a hundred +leading men in the county, charged them with complicity +in the killing of the three members of the African Guard, +and instructed the judge and clerk of the court to refuse +bail and commit them to jail under military guard.</p> +<p>To his amazement the prisoners came into Piedmont +armed and mounted. They paid no attention to the +deputy sheriffs who were supposed to have them in +charge. They deliberately formed in line under Ben +Cameron’s direction and he led them in a parade through +the streets.</p> +<p>The five hundred United States regulars who were +camped on the river bank were Westerners. Ben led +his squadron of armed prisoners in front of this camp and +took them through the evolutions of cavalry with the precision +of veterans. The soldiers dropped their games and +gathered, laughing, to watch them. The drill ended +with a double-rank charge at the river embankment. +When they drew every horse on his haunches on the +brink, firing a volley with a single crash, a wild cheer +broke from the soldiers, and the officers rushed from their +tents.</p> +<p>Ben wheeled his men, galloped in front of the camp, +drew them up at dress parade, and saluted. A low word +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_353' name='page_353'></a>353</span> +of command from a trooper, and the Westerners quickly +formed in ranks, returned the salute, and cheered. The +officers rushed up, cursing, and drove the men back to +their tents.</p> +<p>The horsemen laughed, fired a volley in the air, cheered, +and galloped back to the courthouse. The court was +glad to get rid of them. There was no question raised +over technicalities in making out bail-bonds. The clerk +wrote the names of imaginary bondsmen as fast as his pen +could fly, while the perspiration stood in beads on his red +forehead.</p> +<p>Another telegram from old Stoneman to the White +House, and the Writ of <i>Habeas Corpus</i> was suspended +and Martial Law proclaimed.</p> +<p>Enraged beyond measure at the salute from the troops, +he had two companies of negro regulars sent from Columbia, +and they camped in the Courthouse Square.</p> +<p>He determined to make a desperate effort to crush the +fierce spirit before which his forces were being driven like +chaff. He induced Bizzel to return from Cleveland with +his negro wife and children. He was escorted to the City +Hall and reinstalled as Mayor by the full force of seven +hundred troops, and a negro guard placed around his +house. Stoneman had Lynch run an excursion from the +Black Belt, and brought a thousand negroes to attend a +final rally at Piedmont. He placarded the town with +posters on which were printed the Civil Rights Bill +and the proclamation of the President declaring Martial +Law.</p> +<p>Ben watched this day dawn with nervous dread. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_354' name='page_354'></a>354</span> +had passed a sleepless night, riding in person to every +Den of the Klan and issuing positive orders that no white +man should come to Piedmont.</p> +<p>A clash with the authority of the United States he had +avoided from the first as a matter of principle. It was +essential to his success that his men should commit no act +of desperation which would imperil his plans. Above +all, he wished to avoid a clash with old Stoneman personally.</p> +<p>The arrival of the big excursion was the signal for a +revival of negro insolence which had been planned. The +men brought from the Eastern part of the State were +selected for the purpose. They marched over the town +yelling and singing. A crowd of them, half drunk, +formed themselves three abreast and rushed the sidewalks, +pushing every white man, woman, and child into +the street.</p> +<p>They met Phil on his way to the hotel and pushed him +into the gutter. He said nothing, crossed the street, +bought a revolver, loaded it and put it in his pocket. He +was not popular with the negroes, and he had been shot +at twice on his way from the mills at night. The whole +affair of this rally, over which his father meant to preside, +filled him with disgust, and he was in an ugly mood.</p> +<p>Lynch’s speech was bold, bitter, and incendiary, and at +its close the drunken negro troopers from the local garrison +began to slouch through the streets, two and two, +looking for trouble.</p> +<p>At the close of the speaking Stoneman called the officer +in command of these troops, and said: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_355' name='page_355'></a>355</span></p> +<p>“Major, I wish this rally to-day to be a proclamation +of the supremacy of law, and the enforcement of the +equality of every man under law. Your troops are entitled +to the rights of white men. I understand the hotel +table has been free to-day to the soldiers from the camp +on the river. They are returning the courtesy extended +to the criminals who drilled before them. Send two of +your black troops down for dinner and see that it is +served. I wish an example for the State.”</p> +<p>“It will be a dangerous performance, sir,” the major +protested.</p> +<p>The old Commoner furrowed his brow.</p> +<p>“Have you been instructed to act under my orders?”</p> +<p>“I have, sir,” said the officer, saluting.</p> +<p>“Then do as I tell you,” snapped Stoneman.</p> +<p>Ben Cameron had kept indoors all day, and dined with +fifty of the Western troopers whom he had identified as +leading in the friendly demonstration to his men. Margaret, +who had been busy with Mrs. Cameron entertaining +these soldiers, was seated in the dining-room alone, +eating her dinner, while Phil waited impatiently in the +parlour.</p> +<p>The guests had all gone when two big negro troopers, +fighting drunk, walked into the hotel. They went to +the water-cooler and drank ostentatiously, thrusting +their thick lips coated with filth far into the cocoanut +dipper, while a dirty hand grasped its surface.</p> +<p>They pushed the dining-room door open and suddenly +flopped down beside Margaret.</p> +<p>She attempted to rise, and cried in rage: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_356' name='page_356'></a>356</span></p> +<p>“How dare you, black brutes?”</p> +<p>One of them threw his arm around her chair, thrust his +face into hers, and said with a laugh:</p> +<p>“Don’t hurry, my beauty; stay and take dinner wid us!”</p> +<p>Margaret again attempted to rise, and screamed, as +Phil rushed into the room with drawn revolver. One of +the negroes fired at him, missed, and the next moment +dropped dead with a bullet through his heart.</p> +<p>The other leaped across the table and through the open +window.</p> +<p>Margaret turned, confronting both Phil and Ben with +revolvers in their hands, and fainted.</p> +<p>Ben hurried Phil out the back door and persuaded him +to fly.</p> +<p>“Man, you must go! We must not have a riot here to-day. +There’s no telling what will happen. A disturbance +now, and my men will swarm into town to-night. +For God’s sake go, until things are quiet!”</p> +<p>“But I tell you I’ll face it. I’m not afraid,” said Phil +quietly.</p> +<p>“No, but I am,” urged Ben. “These two hundred +negroes are armed and drunk. Their officers may not +be able to control them, and they may lay their hands on +you—go—go!—go!—you must go! The train is due in +fifteen minutes.”</p> +<p>He half lifted him on a horse tied behind the hotel, +leaped on another, galloped to the flag-station two miles +out of town, and put him on the north-bound train.</p> +<p>“Stay in Charlotte until I wire for you,” was Ben’s +parting injunction. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_357' name='page_357'></a>357</span></p> +<p>He turned his horse’s head for McAllister’s, sent the +two boys with all speed to the Cyclops of each of the ten +township Dens with positive orders to disregard all wild +rumours from Piedmont and keep every man out of town +for two days.</p> +<p>As he rode back he met a squad of mounted white regulars, +who arrested him. The trooper’s companion had +sworn positively that he was the man who killed the +negro.</p> +<p>Within thirty minutes he was tried by drum-head +court-martial and sentenced to be shot.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_THE_SNARE_OF_THE_FOWLER' id='VII_THE_SNARE_OF_THE_FOWLER'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_358' name='page_358'></a>358</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Snare of the Fowler</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>Sweet was the secret joy of old Stoneman over the +fate of Ben Cameron. His death sentence would +strike terror to his party, and his prompt execution, +on the morning of the election but two days off, +would turn the tide, save the State, and rescue his daughter +from a hated alliance.</p> +<p>He determined to bar the last way of escape. He knew +the Klan would attempt a rescue, and stop at no means +fair or foul short of civil war. Afraid of the loyalty of the +white battalions quartered in Piedmont, he determined to +leave immediately for Spartanburg, order an exchange of +garrisons, and, when the death warrant was returned +from headquarters, place its execution in the hands of a +stranger, to whom appeal would be vain. He knew such +an officer in the Spartanburg post, a man of fierce, vindictive +nature, once court-martialed for cruelty, who +hated every Southern white man with mortal venom. He +would put him in command of the death watch.</p> +<p>He hired a fast team and drove across the county with +all speed, doubly anxious to get out of town before Elsie +discovered the tragedy and appealed to him for mercy. +Her tears and agony would be more than he could endure. +She would stay indoors on account of the crowds, and he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_359' name='page_359'></a>359</span> +would not be missed until evening, when safely beyond +her reach.</p> +<p>When Phil arrived at Charlotte he found an immense +crowd at the bulletin board in front of the <i>Observer</i> office +reading the account of the Piedmont tragedy. To his +horror he learned of the arrest, trial, and sentence of Ben +for the deed which he had done.</p> +<p>He rushed to the office of the Division Superintendent +of the Piedmont Air Line Railroad, revealed his identity, +told him the true story of the tragedy, and begged for a +special to carry him back. The Superintendent, who was +a clansman, not only agreed, but within an hour had the +special ready and two cars filled with stern-looking men +to accompany him. Phil asked no questions. He +knew what it meant. The train stopped at Gastonia +and King’s Mountain and took on a hundred more +men.</p> +<p>The special pulled into Piedmont at dusk. Phil ran to +the Commandant and asked for an interview with Ben +alone.</p> +<p>“For what purpose, sir?” the officer asked.</p> +<p>Phil resorted to a ruse, knowing the Commandant to +be unaware of any difference of opinion between him and +his father.</p> +<p>“I hold a commission to obtain a confession from the +prisoner which may save his life by destroying the Ku +Klux Klan.”</p> +<p>He was admitted at once and the guard ordered to withdraw +until the interview ended.</p> +<p>Phil took Ben Cameron’s place, exchanging hat and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_360' name='page_360'></a>360</span> +coat, and wrote a note to his father, telling in detail the +truth, and asked for his immediate interference.</p> +<p>“Deliver that, and I’ll be out of here in two hours,” he +said, as he placed the note in Ben’s hand.</p> +<p>“I’ll go straight to the house,” was the quick reply.</p> +<p>The exchange of the Southerner’s slouch hat and +Prince Albert for Phil’s derby and short coat completely +fooled the guard in the dim light. The men were as +much alike as twins except the shade of difference in +the colour of their hair. He passed the sentinel without +a challenge, and walked rapidly toward Stoneman’s +house.</p> +<p>On the way he was astonished to meet five hundred +soldiers just arrived on a special from Spartanburg. +Amazed at the unexpected movement, he turned and followed +them back to the jail.</p> +<p>They halted in front of the building he had just vacated, +and their commander handed an official document to the +officer in charge. The guard was changed and a cordon +of soldiers encircled the prison.</p> +<p>The Piedmont garrison had received notice by wire to +move to Spartanburg, and Ben heard the beat of their +drums already marching to board the special.</p> +<p>He pressed forward and asked an interview with the +Captain in command.</p> +<p>The answer came with a brutal oath:</p> +<p>“I have been warned against all the tricks and lies this +town can hatch. The commander of the death watch +will permit no interview, receive no visitors, hear no +appeal, and allow no communication with the prisoner +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_361' name='page_361'></a>361</span> +until after the execution. You can announce this to +whom it may concern.”</p> +<p>“But you’ve got the wrong man. You have no right +to execute him,” said Ben excitedly.</p> +<p>“I’ll risk it,” he answered, with a sneer.</p> +<p>“Great God!” Ben cried beneath his breath. “The +old fool has entrapped his son in the net he spread for me!”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_A_RIDE_FOR_A_LIFE' id='VIII_A_RIDE_FOR_A_LIFE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_362' name='page_362'></a>362</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Ride for a Life</span></h3> +</div> + +<p>When Ben Cameron failed to find either Elsie +or her father at home, he hurried to the hotel, +walking under the shadows of the trees to +avoid recognition, though his resemblance to Phil would +have enabled him to pass in his hat and coat unchallenged +by any save the keenest observers.</p> +<p>He found his mother’s bedroom door ajar and saw Elsie +within, sobbing in her arms. He paused, watched, and +listened.</p> +<p>Never had he seen his mother so beautiful—her face +calm, intelligent, and vital, crowned with a halo of gray. +She stood, flushed and dignified, softly smoothing the +golden hair of the sobbing girl whom she had learned to +love as her daughter. Her whole being reflected the years +of homage she had inspired in husband, children, and +neighbours. What a woman! She had made war inevitable, +fought it to the bitter end; and in the despair of +a negro reign of terror, still the prophetess and high +priestess of a people, serene, undismayed, and defiant, +she had fitted the uniform of a Grand Dragon on her +last son, and sewed in secret day and night to equip his +men. And through it all she was without affectation, +her sweet motherly ways, gentle manner and bearing always +resistless to those who came within her influence. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_363' name='page_363'></a>363</span></p> +<p>“If he dies,” cried the tearful voice, “I shall never forgive +myself for not surrendering without reserve and +fighting his battles with him!”</p> +<p>“He is not dead yet,” was the mother’s firm answer. +“Doctor Cameron is on Queen’s back. Your lover’s +men will be riding to-night—these young dare-devil +Knights of the South, with their life in their hands, +a song on their lips, and the scorn of death in their +souls!”</p> +<p>“Then I’ll ride with them,” cried the girl, suddenly +lifting her head.</p> +<p>Ben stepped into the room, and with a cry of joy Elsie +sprang into his arms. The mother stood silent until their +lips met in the long tender kiss of the last surrender of +perfect love.</p> +<p>“How did you escape so soon?” she asked quietly, +while Elsie’s head still lay on his breast.</p> +<p>“Phil shot the brute, and I rushed him out of town. +He heard the news, returned on the special, took my +place, and sent me for his father. The guard has been +changed and it’s impossible to see him, or communicate +with the new Commandant——”</p> +<p>Elsie started and turned pale.</p> +<p>“And father has hidden to avoid me—merciful God—if +Phil is executed——”</p> +<p>“He isn’t dead yet, either,” said Ben, slipping his arm +around her. “But we must save him without a clash or +a drop of bloodshed, if possible. The fate of our people +may hang on this. A battle with United States troops +now might mean ruin for the South——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_364' name='page_364'></a>364</span></p> +<p>“But you will save him?” Elsie pleaded, looking into +his face.</p> +<p>“Yes—or I’ll go down with him,” was the steady answer.</p> +<p>“Where is Margaret?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Gone to McAllister’s with a message from your +father,” Mrs. Cameron replied,</p> +<p>“Tell her when she returns to keep a steady nerve. I’ll +save Phil. Send her to find her father. Tell him to hold +five hundred men ready for action in the woods by the +river and the rest in reserve two miles out of town——”</p> +<p>“May I go with her?” Elsie asked eagerly.</p> +<p>“No. I may need you,” he said. “I am going to find +the old statesman now, if I have to drag the bottomless +pit. Wait here until I return.”</p> +<p>Ben reached the telegraph office unobserved, called the +operator at Columbia, and got the Grand Giant of the +county into the office. Within an hour he learned that +the death warrant had been received and approved. It +would be returned by a messenger to Piedmont on the +morning train. He learned also that any appeal for a +stay must be made through the Honourable Austin Stoneman, +the secret representative of the Government clothed +with this special power. The execution had been ordered +the day of the election, to prevent the concentration of +any large force bent on rescue.</p> +<p>“The old fox!” Ben muttered.</p> +<p>From the Grand Giant at Spartanburg he learned, after +a delay of three hours, that Stoneman had left with a boy +in a buggy, which he had hired for three days, and refused +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_365' name='page_365'></a>365</span> +to tell his destination. He promised to follow and locate +him as quickly as possible.</p> +<p>It was the afternoon on the day following, during the +progress of the election, before Ben received the message +from Spartanburg that Stoneman had been found at the +Old Red Tavern where the roads crossed from Piedmont +to Hambright. It was only twelve miles away, just over +the line on the North Carolina side.</p> +<p>He walked with Margaret to the block where Queen +stood saddled, watching with pride the quiet air of self-control +with which she bore herself.</p> +<p>“Now, my sister, you know the way to the tavern. +Ride for your sweetheart’s life. Bring the old man here +by five o’clock, and we’ll save Phil without a fight. Keep +your nerve. The Commandant knows a regiment of +mine is lying in the woods, and he’s trying to slip out of +town with his prisoner. I’ll stand by my men ready for +a battle at a moment’s notice, but for God’s sake get here +in time to prevent it.”</p> +<p>She stooped from the saddle, pressed her brother’s +hand, kissed him, and galloped swiftly over the old Way +of Romance she knew so well.</p> +<p>On reaching the tavern, the landlord rudely denied that +any such man was there, and left her standing dazed and +struggling to keep back the tears.</p> +<p>A boy of eight, with big wide friendly eyes, slipped into +the room, looked up into her face tenderly, and said:</p> +<p>“He’s the biggest liar in North Carolina. The old +man’s right upstairs in the room over your head. Come +on; I’ll show you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_366' name='page_366'></a>366</span></p> +<p>Margaret snatched the child in her arms and kissed him.</p> +<p>She knocked in vain for ten minutes. At last she heard +his voice within:</p> +<p>“Go away from that door!”</p> +<p>“I’m from Piedmont, sir,” cried Margaret, “with an +important message from the Commandant for you.”</p> +<p>“Yes; I saw you come. I will not see you. I know +everything, and I will hear no appeal.”</p> +<p>“But you cannot know of the exchange of men,” +pleaded the girl.</p> +<p>“I tell you I know all about it. I will not interfere——”</p> +<p>“But you could not be so cruel——”</p> +<p>“The majesty of the law must be vindicated. The +judge who consents to the execution of a murderer is not +cruel. He is showing mercy to Society. Go, now; I +will not hear you.”</p> +<p>In vain Margaret knocked, begged, pleaded, and sobbed.</p> +<p>At last, in a fit of desperation, as she saw the sun sinking +lower and the precious minutes flying, she hurled her +magnificent figure against the door and smashed the +cheap lock which held it.</p> +<p>The old man sat at the other side of the room, looking +out of the window, with his massive jaws locked in rage. +The girl staggered to his side, knelt by his chair, placed +her trembling hand on his arm, and begged:</p> +<p>“For the love of Jesus, have mercy! Come with me +quickly!”</p> +<p>With a growl of anger, he said:</p> +<p>“No!”</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-366.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 378px; height: 583px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 378px;'> +MIRIAM COOPER AS MARGARET CAMERON.<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_367' name='page_367'></a>367</span></div> +<p>“It was a mad impulse, in my defence as well as his +own.”</p> +<p>“Impulse, yes! But back of it lay banked the fires of +cruelty and race hatred! The Nation cannot live with +such barbarism rotting its heart out.”</p> +<p>“But this is war, sir—a war of races, and this an accident +of war—besides, his life had been attempted by +them twice before.”</p> +<p>“So I’ve heard, and yet the negro always happens to +be the victim——”</p> +<p>Margaret leaped to her feet and glared at the old man +for a moment in uncontrollable anger.</p> +<p>“Are you a fiend?” she fairly shrieked.</p> +<p>Old Stoneman merely pursed his lips.</p> +<p>The girl came a step closer, and extended her hand +again in mute appeal.</p> +<p>“No, I was foolish. You are not cruel. I have heard +of a hundred acts of charity you have done among our +poor. Come, this is horrible! It is impossible! You +cannot consent to the death of your son——”</p> +<p>Stoneman looked up sharply:</p> +<p>“Thank God, he hasn’t married my daughter yet——”</p> +<p>“Your daughter!” gasped Margaret. “I’ve told you +it was Phil who killed the negro! He took Ben’s place +just before the guards were exchanged——”</p> +<p>“Phil!—Phil?” shrieked the old man, staggering to +his club foot and stumbling toward Margaret with dilated +eyes and whitening face; “My boy—Phil?—why—why, +are you crazy?—Phil? Did you say—<i>Phil</i>?”</p> +<p>“Yes. Ben persuaded him to go to Charlotte until +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_368' name='page_368'></a>368</span> +the excitement passed to avoid trouble. Come, come, +sir, we must be quick! We may be too late!”</p> +<p>She seized and pulled him toward the door.</p> +<p>“Yes. Yes, we must hurry,” he said in a laboured +whisper, looking around dazed. “You will show me the +way, my child—you love him—yes, we will go quickly—quickly! +my boy—my boy!”</p> +<p>Margaret called the landlord, and while they hitched +Queen to the buggy, the old man stood helplessly +wringing and fumbling his big ugly hands, muttering +incoherently, and tugging at his collar as though about +to suffocate.</p> +<p>As they dashed away, old Stoneman laid a trembling +hand on Margaret’s arm.</p> +<p>“Your horse is a good one, my child?”</p> +<p>“Yes; the one Marion saved—the finest in the county.”</p> +<p>“And you know the way?”</p> +<p>“Every foot of it. Phil and I have driven it often.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes—you love him,” he sighed, pressing her +hand.</p> +<p>Through the long reckless drive, as the mare flew over +the rough hills, every nerve and muscle of her fine body +at its utmost tension, the father sat silent. He braced +his club foot against the iron bar of the dashboard and +gripped the sides of the buggy to steady his feeble body. +Margaret leaned forward intently watching the road to +avoid an accident. The old man’s strange colourless eyes +stared straight in front, wide open, and seeing nothing, +as if the soul had already fled through them into eternity.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX__VENGEANCE_IS_MINE' id='IX__VENGEANCE_IS_MINE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_369' name='page_369'></a>369</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Vengeance Is Mine</span>”</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was dark long before Margaret and Stoneman +reached Piedmont. A mile out of town a horse +neighed in the woods, and, tired as she was, Queen +threw her head high and answered the call.</p> +<p>The old man did not notice it, but Margaret knew a +squadron of white-and-scarlet horsemen stood in those +woods, and her heart gave a bound of joy.</p> +<p>As they passed the Presbyterian church, she saw +through the open window her father standing at his +Elder’s seat leading in prayer. They were holding a +watch service, asking God for victory in the eventful +struggle of the day.</p> +<p>Margaret attempted to drive straight to the jail, and a +sentinel stopped them.</p> +<p>“I am Stoneman, sir—the real commander of these +troops,” said the old man, with authority.</p> +<p>“Orders is orders, and I don’t take ’em from you,” +was the answer.</p> +<p>“Then tell your commander that Mr. Stoneman has +just arrived from Spartanburg and asks to see him at the +hotel immediately.”</p> +<p>He hobbled into the parlour and waited in agony while +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_370' name='page_370'></a>370</span> +Margaret tied the mare. Ben, her mother and father, +and every servant were gone.</p> +<p>In a few moments the second officer hurried to Stoneman, +saluted, and said:</p> +<p>“We’ve pulled it off in good shape, sir. They’ve tried +to fool us with a dozen tricks, and a whole regiment has +been lying in wait for us all day. But at dark the Captain +outwitted them, took his prisoner with a squad of +picked cavalry, and escaped their pickets. They’ve been +gone an hour, and ought to be back with the body——”</p> +<p>Old Stoneman sprang on him with the sudden fury of +a madman, clutching at his throat.</p> +<p>“If you’ve killed my son,” he gasped—“go—go! Follow +them with a swift messenger and stop them! It’s a +mistake—you’re killing the wrong man—you’re killing +my boy—quick—my God, quick—don’t stand there +staring at me!”</p> +<p>The officer rushed to obey his order as Margaret entered.</p> +<p>The old man seized her arm, and said with laboured +breath:</p> +<p>“Your father, my child, ask him to come to me +quickly.”</p> +<p>Margaret hurried to the church, and an usher called +the doctor to the door.</p> +<p>He read the question trembling on the girl’s lips.</p> +<p>“Nothing has happened yet, my daughter. Your +brother has held a regiment of his men in readiness every +moment of the day.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Stoneman is at the hotel and asks to see you immediately,” +she whispered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_371' name='page_371'></a>371</span></p> +<p>“God grant he may prevent bloodshed,” said the +father. “Go inside and stay with your mother.”</p> +<p>When Doctor Cameron entered the parlour Stoneman +hobbled painfully to meet him, his face ashen, and his +breath rattling in his throat as if his soul were being +strangled.</p> +<p>“You are my enemy, Doctor,” he said, taking his hand, +“but you are a pious man. I have been called an infidel—I +am only a wilful sinner—I have slain my own son, +unless God Almighty, who can raise the dead, shall save +him! You are the man at whom I aimed the blow that +has fallen on my head. I wish to confess to you and set +myself right before God. He may hear my cry, and have +mercy on me.”</p> +<p>He gasped for breath, sank into his seat, looked around, +and said:</p> +<p>“Will you close the door?”</p> +<p>The doctor complied with his request and returned.</p> +<p>“We all wear masks, Doctor,” began the trembling +voice. “Beneath lie the secrets of love and hate from +which actions move. My will alone forged the chains of +negro rule. Three forces moved me—party success, a +vicious woman, and the quenchless desire for personal +vengeance. When I first fell a victim to the wiles of the +yellow vampire who kept my house, I dreamed of lifting +her to my level. And when I felt myself sinking into +the black abyss of animalism, I, whose soul had learned +the pathway of the stars and held high converse with the +great spirits of the ages——”</p> +<p>He paused, looked up in terror, and whispered: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_372' name='page_372'></a>372</span></p> +<p>“What’s that noise? Isn’t it the distant beat of +horses’ hoofs?”</p> +<p>“No,” said the doctor, listening; “it’s the roar of the +falls we hear, from a sudden change of the wind.”</p> +<p>“I’m done now,” Stoneman went on, slowly fumbling +his hands. “My life has been a failure. The dice of +God are always loaded.”</p> +<p>His great head drooped lower, and he continued:</p> +<p>“Mightiest of all was my motive of revenge. Fierce +business and political feuds wrecked my iron mills. I +shouldered their vast debts, and paid the last mortgage +of a hundred thousand dollars the week before Lee invaded +my State. I stood on the hill in the darkness, +cried, raved, cursed, while I watched the troops lay those +mills in ashes. Then and there I swore that I’d live +until I ground the South beneath my heel! When I got +back to my house they had buried a Confederate soldier +in the field. I dug his body up, carted it to the woods, +and threw it into a ditch——”</p> +<p>The hand of the white-haired Southerner suddenly +gripped old Stoneman’s throat—and then relaxed. His +head sank on his breast, and he cried in anguish:</p> +<p>“God be merciful to me a sinner! Would I, too, seek +revenge!”</p> +<p>Stoneman looked at the doctor, dazed by his sudden +onslaught and collapse.</p> +<p>“Yes, he was somebody’s boy down here,” he went on, +“who was loved perhaps even as I love—I don’t blame +you. See, in the inside pocket next to my heart I carry +the pictures of Phil and Elsie taken from babyhood up, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_373' name='page_373'></a>373</span> +all set in a little book. They don’t know this—nor does +the world dream I’ve been so soft-hearted——”</p> +<p>He drew a miniature album from his pocket and fumbled +it aimlessly:</p> +<p>“You know Phil was my first-born——”</p> +<p>His voice broke, and he looked at the doctor helplessly.</p> +<p>The Southerner slipped his arm around the old man’s +shoulders and began a tender and reverent prayer.</p> +<p>The sudden thunder of a squad of cavalry with clanking +sabres swept by the hotel toward the jail.</p> +<p>Stoneman scrambled to his feet, staggered, and caught +a chair.</p> +<p>“It’s no use,” he groaned, “—they’ve come with his +body—I’m slipping down—the lights are going out—I +haven’t a friend! It’s dark and cold—I’m alone, and +lost—God—has—hidden—His—face—from—me!”</p> +<p>Voices were heard without, and the tramp of heavy +feet on the steps.</p> +<p>Stoneman clutched the doctor’s arm in agony:</p> +<p>“Stop them!—Stop them! Don’t let them bring him +in here!”</p> +<p>He sank limp into the chair and stared at the door as it +swung open and Phil walked in, with Ben and Elsie by his +side, in full clansman disguise.</p> +<p>The old man leaped to his feet and gasped:</p> +<p>“The Klan!—The Klan! No? Yes! It’s true—glory +to God, they’ve saved my boy—Phil—Phil!”</p> +<p>“How did you rescue him?” Doctor Cameron asked +Ben.</p> +<p>“Had a squadron lying in wait on every road that led +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_374' name='page_374'></a>374</span> +from town. The Captain thought a thousand men were +on him, and surrendered without a shot.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>At twelve o’clock Ben stood at the gate with Elsie.</p> +<p>“Your fate hangs in the balance of this election to-night,” +she said. “I’ll share it with you, success or failure, +life or death.”</p> +<p>“Success, not failure,” he answered firmly. “The +Grand Dragons of six States have already wired victory. +Look at our lights on the mountains! They are ablaze—range +on range our signals gleam until the Fiery Cross is +lost among the stars!”</p> +<p>“What does it mean?” she whispered.</p> +<p>“That I am a successful revolutionist—that Civilization +has been saved, and the South redeemed from +shame.”</p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' margin-top:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>THE END</p> +</div> + +<!-- generated by ppgen.rb version: 2.18 --> +<!-- timestamp: Fri Aug 08 19:23:01 -0600 2008 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Clansman, by Thomas Dixon + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CLANSMAN *** + +***** This file should be named 26240-h.htm or 26240-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/2/4/26240/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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