BACKWARD AND FORWARD.
The task which Hesden Le Moyne undertook when he assumed the care and
protection of Eliab Hill, was no trivial one, as he well understood.
He realized as fully as did Nimbus the necessity of absolute
concealment, for he was well aware that the blaze of excitement
which would sweep over Horsford, when the events that had occurred
at Red Wing should become known, would spare no one who should harbor
or conceal any of the recognized leaders of the colored men. He
knew that not only that organization which had just shown its
existence in the county, but the vast majority of all the white
inhabitants as well, would look upon this affair as indubitable
evidence of the irrepressible conflict of races, in which they all
believed most devoutly.
He had looked forward to this time with great apprehension.
Although he had scrupulously refrained from active participation
in political life, it was not from any lack of interest in the
political situation of the country. He had not only the ordinary
instinct of the educated Southern man for political thought--an
instinct which makes every man in that section first of all things
a partisan, and constitutes politics the first and most important
business of life--but besides this general interest in public
affairs he had also an inherited bias of hostility to the right
of secession, as well as to its policy. His father had been what
was termed a "Douglas Democrat," and the son had absorbed his views.
With that belief in a father's infallibility which is so general
in that part of the country, Hesden, despite his own part in the
war and the chagrin which defeat had brought, had looked only for
evil results to come out of the present struggle, which he believed
to have been uselessly precipitated.
It was in this state of mind that he had watched the new phase of
the "irrepressible conflict" which supervened upon the downfall of
the Rebellion In so doing, he had arrived at the following conclusions:
1. That it was a most fortunate and providential thing that
the Confederacy had failed. He had begun to realize the wisdom
of Washington when he referred to the dogma of "State rights" as
"that bantling--I like to have said _that monster._"
2. That the emancipation of the slaves would ultimately prove
advantageous to the white man,
3. That it was the part of honorable men fairly and honestly to carry
out and give effect to all the conditions, expressed and implied,
on which power, representation, and autonomy were restored to the
recently rebellious States. This he believed to be a personal duty,
and a failure so to do he regarded as a disgrace to every man in
any way contributing to it, especially if he had been a soldier
and had shared the defeat of which these conditions were a consequence.
4. He did not regard either the war or the legislation known as
reconstructionary as having in any manner affected the natural
relation of the races. In the old times he had never felt or believed
that the slave was inherently endowed with the same rights as the
master; and he did not see how the results of war could enhance
his natural rights. He did not believe that the colored man had an
inherent right to freedom or to self-government. Whatever right
of that kind he might now have was simply by the free grace of the
conqueror. He had a right to the fruit of his own labor, to the
care, protection, and service of his own children, to the society
and comfort of his wife, to the protection of his own person, to
marriage, the ballot, possessory capacity, and all those things
which distinguish the citizen from the chattel--not because of
his manhood, nor because of inherent co-equality of right with the
white man; but simply because the national legislation gave it to
him as a condition precedent of statal rehabilitation.
These may seem to the Northern reader very narrow views; and so they
are, as compared with those that underlay the spirit of resistance
to rebellion, and the fever heat for human rights, which was the
animating principle in the hearts of the people when they endorsed
and approved those amendments which were the basis of reconstructionary
legislation. It should be remembered, however, that even these views
were infinitely in advance of the ideas generally entertained by
his white fellow-citizens of the South. Nearly all of them regarded
these matters in a very different light; and most naturally, too,
as any one may understand who will lemember what had gone before,
and will keep in mind that defeat does not mean a new birth, and
that warfare leaves _men_ unchanged by its results, whatever
may be its effects on nations and societies.
They regretted the downfall of the Confederacy as the triumph of
a lower and baser civilization--the ascendency of a false idea and
an act of unrighteous and unjustifiable subversion. To their minds
it was a forcible denial of their rights, and, to a large portion
of them, a dishonorable violation of that contract or treaty upon
which the Federal Union was based, and by which the right for which
they fought had, according to their construction, been assured. As
viewed by them, the result of the war had not changed these facts,
nor justified the infraction of the rights of the South.
In the popular phrase of that day, they "accepted the situation"--which
to _their_ minds, simply meant that they would not fight any
more for independent existence. The North understood it to mean
that they would accept cheerfully and in good faith any terms
and conditions which might be imposed upon them as a condition of
rehabilitation.
The masses of the Southern whites regarded the emancipation of
the negro simply as an arbitrary exercise of power, intended as
a punishment for the act of attempted secession--which act, while
many believed it to have been impolitic, few believed to be in
conflict with the true theory of our government. They considered
the freeing of the slave merely a piece of wanton spite, inspired,
in great measure, by sheer envy of Southern superiority, in part
by angry hate because of the troubles, perils, and losses of the
war, and, in a very small degree, by honest though absurd fanaticism.
They did not believe that it was done for the sake of the slave,
to secure his liberty or to establish his rights; but they believed
most devoutly that it was done solely and purposely to injure
the master, to punish the rebel, and to still further cripple and
impoverish the South. It was, to them, an unwarrantable measure of
unrighteous retribution inspired by the lowest and basest motives.
But if, to the mass of Southern white men, emancipation was a
measure born of malicious spite in the breast of the North, what
should they say of that which followed--the _enfranchisement_
of the black? It was a gratuitous insult--a causeless infamy! It
was intended to humiliate, without even the mean motive of advantage
to be derived. They did not for a moment believe--they do not
believe to-day--that the negro was enfranchised for his own sake,
or because the North believed that he was entitled to self-government,
or was fit for self-government; but simply and solely because it
was hoped thereby to degrade, overawe, and render powerless the
white element of the Southern populations. They thought it a fraud
in itself, by which the North pretended to give back to the South
her place in the nation; but instead, gave her only a debased and
degraded co-ordination with a race despised beyond the power of
words to express.
This anger seemed--and still seems to the Northern mind--useless,
absurd, and ridiculous. It appears to us as groundless and almost
as laughable as the frantic and impotent rage of the Chinaman who
has lost his sacred queue by the hand of the Christian spoiler.
To the Northern mind the cause is entirely incommensurate with the
anger displayed. One is inclined to ask, with a laugh, "Well, what
of it?" Perhaps there is not a single Northern resident of the
South who has not more than once offended some personal friend by
smiling in his face while he raged, with white lips and glaring
eyes, about this culminating ignominy. Yet it was sadly real to
them. In comparison with this, all other evils seemed light and
trivial, and whatever tended to prevent it, was deemed fair and
just. For this reason, the Southerners felt themselves not only
justified, but imperatively called upon, in every way and manner,
to resist and annul all legislation having this end in view.
Regarding it as inherently fraudulent, malicious, and violent, they
felt no compunctions in defeating its operation by counter-fraud
and violence.
It was thus that the elements of reconstruction affected the hearts
and heads of most of the Southern whites. To admit that they were
honest in holding such views as they did is only to give them the
benefit of a presumption which, when applied to the acts and motives
of whole peoples, becomes irrefutable. A mob may be wrong-headed,
but it is always right-hearted. What it does may be infamous, but
underlying its acts is always the sting of a great evil or the hope
of a great good.
Thus it was, too, that to the subtler mind and less selfish heart
of Hesden Le Moyne, every attempt to nullify the effect or evade
the operation of the Reconstruction laws was tinged with the idea
of personal dishonor. To his understanding, the terms of surrender
were, not merely that he would not again fight for a separate
governmental existence, but, also, that he would submit to such
changes in the national polity as the conquering majority might
deem necessary and desirable as conditions precedent to restored
power; and would honestly and fairly, as an honorable man and a
brave soldier, carry out those laws either to successful fruition
or to fair and legitimate repeal.
He was not animated by any thought of advantage to himself or to
his class to arise from such ideas. Unlike Jordan Jackson, and men
of his type, there was nothing which his class could gain thereby,
except a share in the ultimate glory and success of an enlarged and
solidified nation. The self-abnegation which he had learned from
three years of duty as a private soldier and almost a lifetime
of patient attendance upon a loved but exacting invalid, inclined
to him to study the movements of society and the world, without
especial reference to himself, or the narrow circle of his family
or class. To his mind, _honor_--that honor which he accounted
the dearest birthright his native South had given--required that
from and after the day of his surrender he should seek and desire,
not the gratification of revenge nor the display of prejudice,
but the success and glory of the great republic. He felt that the
American Nation had become greater and more glorious by the very
act of overcoming rebellion. He recognized that the initial right
or wrong of that struggle, whatever it might have been, should be
subordinated in all minds to the result--an individual Nation. It
was a greater and a grander thing to be an American than to have
been a Confederate! It was more honorable and knightly to be true
in letter and in spirit to every law of his reunited land than to
make the woes of the past an excuse for the wrongs of the present.
He felt all the more scrupulous in regard to this, because those
measures were not altogether such as he would have adopted, nor
such as he could yet believe would prove immediately successful. He
thought that every Southern man should see to it especially that,
if any element of reconstruction failed, it should not be on account
of any lack of honest, sincere and hearty co-operation on his part.
It was for this reason that he had taken such interest in the
experiment that was going on at Red Wing in educating the colored
people. He did not at first believe at all in the capacity of the
negro for culture, progress, self-support, or self-government; but
he believed that the experiment, having been determined on by the
nation, should be fairly and honestly carried out and its success
or failure completely demonstrated. He admitted frankly that, if
they had such capacity, they undoubtedly had the right to use it;
because he believed the right inherent and inalienable with any
race or people having the capacity. He considered that it was only
the lack of co-ordinate capacity that made the Africans unfit to
exercise co-ordinate power with individuals of the white race.
He thought they should be encouraged by every means to develop
what was in them, and readily admitted that, should the experiment
succeed and all distinction of civil right and political power be
successfully abolished, the strength and glory of the nation would
be wonderfully enhanced. His partiality for the two chief promoters
of the experiment at Red Wing had greatly increased his interest in
the result, which had by no means been diminished by his acquaintance
with Mollie Ainslie.
It was not, however, until he bent over his unconscious charge in
the stillness of the morning, made an examination of the wounds of
his old playmate by the flickering light of the lamp, and undertook
the process of resuscitation and cure, that he began to realize
how his ancient prejudice was giving way before the light of what
he could not but regard as truth. The application of some simple
remedies soon restored Eliab to consciousness, but he found that
the other injuries were so serious as to demand immediate surgical
attendance, and would require considerable time for their cure.
His first idea had been to keep Eliab's presence at his house
entirely concealed; but as soon as he realized the extent of his
injuries, he saw that this would be impossible, and concluded that
the safer way would be to entrust the secret to those servants
who were employed "about the lot," which includes, upon a Southern
plantation, all who are not regularly engaged in the crop. He felt
the more willing to do this because of the attachment felt for the
sweet-tempered but deformed minister at Red Wing by all of his
race in the county. He carefully impressed upon the two women
and Charles, the stable-boy, the necessity of the utmost caution
in regard to the matter, and arranged with them to care for his
patient by turns, so as never to leave him alone. He sent to the
post at Boyleston for a surgeon, whose coming chanced not to be
noticed by the neighbors, as he arrived just after dark and went
away before daylight to return to his duty. A comfortable cot was
arranged for the wounded man, and, to make the care of him less
onerous, as well as to avoid the remark which continual use of
the ladder would be sure to excite, Charles was directed to cut a
doorway through the other gable of the old house into one of the
rooms in a newer part. Charles was one of those men found on almost
every plantation, who can "turn a hand to almost anything." In
a short time he had arranged a door from the chamber above "Marse
Hesden's room," and the task of nursing the stricken man back to
life and such health as he might thereafter have, was carried on
by the faithful band of watchers in the dim light of the old attic
and amid the spicy odor of the "bulks" of tobacco, which was stored
there awaiting a favorable market.
Hesden was so occupied with fhis care that it was not until the
next day that he became aware of Mollie's absence. As she had gone
without preparation or farewell, he rightly judged that it was her
intention to return. At first, he thought he would go at once to
Red Wing and assure himself of her safety, but a moment's consideration
showed him not only that this was probably unnecessary, but also
that to do so would attract attention, and perhaps reveal the
hiding-place of Eliab. Besides, he felt confident that she would
not be molested, and thought it quite as well that she should not
be at Mulberry Hill for a few days, until the excitement had somewhat
worn away.
On the next day, Eliab inquired so pitifully for both Miss Mollie
and Nimbus, that Hesden, although he knew it was a half-delirious
anxiety, had sent Charles on an errand to a plantation in that
vicinity, with directions to learn all he could of affairs there,
if possible without communicating directly with Miss Ainslie.
This he did, and reported everything quiet--Nimbus and Berry not
heard from; Eliab supposed to have been killed; the colored people
greatly alarmed; and "Miss Mollie a-comfortin' an encouragin' on
'em night an' day."
Together with this anxiety came the trust confided to Hesden by
Jordan Jackson, and the new, and at first somewhat arduous, duties
imposed thereby. In the discharge of these he was brought into
communication with a great many of the best people of the county,
and did not hesitate to express his opinion freely as to the outrage
at Red Wing. He was several times warned to be prudent, but he
answered all warnings so firmly, and yet with so much feeling, that
he was undisturbed. He stood so high, and had led so pure a life,
that he could even be allowed to entertain obnoxious sentiments
without personal danger, so long as he did not attempt to reduce
them to practice or attempt to secure for colored people the rights
to which he thought them entitled. However, a great deal of remark
was occasioned by the fact of his having become trustee for the
fugitive Radical, and he was freely charged with having disgraced
and degraded himself and his family by taking the part of a "renegade,
Radical white nigger," like Jackson. This duty took him from home
during the day in a direction away from Red Wing, and a part of each
night he sat by the bedside of Eliab. So that more than a week had
passed, during which he had found opportunity to take but three
meals with his mother, and had not yet been able to visit Red Wing.