THE BROKEN CRUSE.
The lights were burning with a soft glow one night in the mansion when
the announcement was made by Clarissa that a gentleman stood without,
desiring an audience with the old master. The gentleman introduced
himself as Mr. Summers (half apologetically), a reconstructed rebel.
There was a moment's pause in which, by the shimmer of the lighted
lamps, Colonel Seymour saw that the visitor was quite an elderly man,
without beard and with soft white hair. His address was easy and
insinuating. He was neatly clad in black cloth, and impressed Colonel
Seymour as being a man of affairs. Together they entered the library,
the Colonel observing that he conducted all business transactions in
that particular room just now. Considering the unusual hour at which the
visitor had arrived, in connection with the unpleasant incidents of a
quite eventful day, there was nothing reassuring in the visit: the times
were critical, to say the least, and his own situation so entirely
defenceless, that he felt as if "vigilance was truly the price of
liberty." So he addressed the stranger in a manner quite emphatic--
"May I enquire, sir, to what circumstance I am indebted for the honor of
this visit?"
"Why, certainly, sir," replied the bland stranger. "But will you permit
me first to ask after your health and that of your family? How are you,
sir?"
"My family--that is my wife--is quite unwell, sir. She has been an
invalid for many weeks, and I fear there is no possible hope of her
recovery," said the Colonel.
"Ah, that distresses me greatly; perhaps her condition is not so bad as
you fear. May I ask after your health, sir?"
The Colonel hesitated for a moment, and then observed, deliberately,
"Physically, I am quite well, sir."
"Did I not see you, sir, when we were re-crossing the Potomac on our mad
flight from Gettysburg at the lower ford?" enquired the stranger.
"Mad flight!" echoed the veteran with ill-concealed wrath. "Have you
such a conception of the orderly retreat of our great army without the
loss of a gun and without the capture of a man, as to characterize it as
a mad flight? Were you a Confederate soldier, sir, and do you insult my
intelligence, my loyalty, yea, my bravery, sir, by this challenged
inquiry?"
"My dear sir, if the statement pains you I will recall it instantly.
Pray excuse me. I was Major of the 7th Virginia Cavalry, and as the army
halted at the ford I saw an officer, a Colonel, who was badly wounded
and who with great difficulty sat his horse on that occasion. I now see
that the officer whom I then saw is the gentleman I now address, and I
heartily crave your pardon for the rash expression."
"Very well, then," replied the Colonel. "We are Confederate soldiers
again, and will make our future assaults upon the enemy, if you please,
and not upon Lee's army, that whipped the enemy at Gettysburg; yes, sir,
whipped them and fell back, sir, because our base of supplies was
menaced by the flooding of the Potomac, sir," fairly hissed the old man
in great excitement.
"My dear sir, why this excessive warmth?" cried the stranger; "I am sure
we understand each other; but, my dear sir, the war is over--why make
imaginary assaults upon an imaginary enemy? We are entirely in accord.
We entered the army because we then believed we were right, and--"
"Knew it, sir, knew it, and know it now, sir, know it now, sir,"
fiercely interrupted the Colonel.
"Will you allow me to ask, my dear sir, do you recall those events with
any degree of pleasure?" asked the stranger.
"Yes, and no. When I realize that then and now, the enemy with unbounded
resources was eternally casting into the vat of pernicious fermentation
every act, thought and suggestion that was doubtful in interpretation,
and brewing a concoction as nauseous as the black vomit of the red
harlot herself, and eructating it upon us--the recollection is painful;
but when I remember that every sword thrust into their vitals was the
act of a patriot, I delight to recall events that crowned the old South
with undying glory."
"Allow me one other observation, if you please," asked the stranger in a
tentative way. "Admittedly the South was right, but, my dear sir, do you
think it possible that men like yourself who gallantly fought for a
cause they sincerely believed to be just may not impress their
individuality upon an era that promises so much for the betterment of
our condition as a people?"
"Barely possible, I imagine," replied the Colonel.
"Are you inclined to favor a proposition that has in contemplation the
election of negroes to office."
"No sir; such a proposition, in my opinion, would be so abhorrent to our
ideals of sovereignty that I should consider myself a traitor to the
South and her people. Should I endorse such a proposition, it would be
an act of self degradation."
"But, my dear sir," argued the stranger, "you will pardon me if I should
say that every man must look out for his own safety. Patriotism to a
great extent, is a matter of sentiment, and a great man once said 'It is
the last refuge of a scoundrel.' You of course will not yield to such an
interpretation, nor would I ask you to do so, but, sir, we must let the
dead past bury its dead. We must live in the present, and we must as
skilled architects build for future generations a superstructure that
shall challenge the admiration of men yet unborn."
"That is to say, if I understand you," interrupted the Colonel, "you
propose to inoculate the South with the poison of your infamous
reconstruction policy, to engraft upon our institutions a new and
dangerous character, and besides other atrocious enormities to establish
the spoils principle--its temptation to licentiousness--the watchword to
animate your corrupt followers to a savage and unscrupulous warfare,
sparing neither sex nor age, practicing every species of fraud and
hypocrisy, confounding right and wrong, and robbing the innocent and
virtuous of their only treasure, their manhood and womanhood. What is
your proposition, sir," he exclaimed vehemently, "but a proclamation to
the venal and depraved to rally to the standard of a chief, who, like
the leader of an army of bandits, points to our God-forsaken country,
and says to your plunderers, 'This shall be the reward of victory.' This
is no exageration, sir; disguise it as you may, your proposition leads
to brigandage and ruin."
"But, my dear sir," replied the stranger, "you have so disarmed me by
your arguments that I fear my mission to you will be without avail--will
you allow me to proceed, sir? We deplore the fact, sir, that our most
virtuous men are still braving the dangers they might, with a little
circumspection avoid; still plunging headlong, as it were into great
heated furnaces whose doors are open to receive them."
"How would you advise, sir, that we can protect ourselves, so we will
not be utterly consumed, but only roasted here and there" asked the
Colonel epigrammatically.
"Ah, you trifle with serious matters" replied the white haired stranger.
"There is one way, sir, and one way only--adopt this, sir, and the
country will honor you with its blandishments. Take the tide at its
flood, and co-operate patriotically with those who are enforcing manhood
suffrage without respect to educational or property qualifications, and
the suffrages of the adult freemen, white and black, will be cast for
you for congress."
"Ah, a tempting bait," exclaimed the Colonel, "but it has a rancid
negroish scent, and the hook is too sharp--too sharp sir. Do you intend
to do this thing?" continued the Colonel interrogatively.
"Assuredly, sir," the stranger replied, with might and main.
"Then sir," shouted the indignant man, "this interview ends now."
"One more word," pleaded the stranger, "and I have done--please bear
with me a moment. The Central Executive Committee, of which I am a
member, feeling their great need of your invaluable services have
commissioned me to make known to you their earnest desire, that you will
accept a nomination, from the party, for Congress upon the reform
platform."
"You mean your ultra radical platform," suggested the Colonel.
"No, not exactly that," replied the stranger, "they desire further, if
however you will not accept, that you will submit your views upon the
perplexing subject of negro or manhood suffrage."
"And you are sure your committee will act upon suggestions from me?" he
asked.
"I am quite sure they will," answered Mr. Summers.
"Then, sir, please ask your committee, as a special request from John W.
Seymour, to put the negroes to work upon the farms; and the
carpet-baggers out of the state, and hang the scalawags by the neck
until they are dead, dead, dead, sir."
"Tut, tut, tut," exclaimed the old man excitedly, "you are beside
yourself. Remember, my dear sir, that you are sowing the wind, and by
and by strangers will reap the whirlwind. Good night, Colonel Seymour,
I hope you will think better of the matter.
As the white haired stranger passed out of the door, Clarissa, who was
closing it after him, enquired of her old master, "Mars Jon, what nice
farderly ole man was dat ole gemmen? he peared lak he wus mity
sorrowful. Iseed him put his handkercher to his face lak he mout be
weepin; what did yer say to him, ole marser, dat upsot him so bad?"
"Without deigning a reply Col. Seymour enquired of Clarissa what the
shouting and halloing at her house last night meant?"
"Did yer heer dat racket Mars Jon? I spected yer wus asleep. Twant
nuffin epceps Ned und Joshaway er cuttin up der shines. Dem niggers been
to town und cum bak drunk as horgs in de mash tub und sed how dat dey
had jined de milintery cumpny, und was agwine to clur up de po white
trash in de kentry, fo und aft; when yer hurd dem dey wus er hollern to
Ellik how dat de boss sed dat dey mout go to de town und draw de lan
und de mule und de penshun, dat dey wus agwine to git dern nex Saddy.
Lans sake, ole Marser, I specks we's agwine to have orful times in dis
kentry--de niggers turned loose lak blaten sheepses er shullikin und a
pilfern erbout ebery which a way. Ole fokses used to say dat when de tip
eend ob de moon wus rite red lak, dat yer mout look out fur wars und
yurthshaks too, und I seed dat ur site las nite 'twixt midnite und day
und it fotched what de ole fokses sed rite back to my member'nce. I'd
hate powerful to see any udder bellion in dis lan, dat I would. Not ef
day is ergwine to shoot steerkyarts und wheel-barrers clean froo our
federick sojers, lak dey dun de last time. Grate king, Mars Jon, what
sorter ammynishun did dem dare yankeys shoot outen dare kannons ennyhow?
Frum de way our po sojers wuz tore to pieces, dey put me in membrunce of
ambylances, und powerful big wuns at dat; Grate king! I natally heers
dare po flesh er sizzing dis minnit. Is you sho ole marser dat de good
Lord is ergwine to fetch all dem arms und legs und heds togedder, eend
fur eend at de resurreckshun, so our sojers is ergwine to know pine
plank which is dere'n, und dey drifted disserway und datterway in de
cornfields of Manassy und Chuckkermorger und de Bulls Run? Grate king!"
Contemporaneously with the coming of the troubles that were well nigh
overwhelming the old veteran and his beautiful daughter, the death of
the wife and mother came as it were the knell of doom--the giving away
of the last arch in the compact fabric of human life, the snapping of
the last filament in the web of destiny--the leaking of the last drop of
oil from the broken cruse. With her, the heart could be nerved to
extraordinary endeavor; with her, ever so many bright colors could be
painted upon the angry horizon; with her, the sunset heavens would
diffuse a glamour, all radiant and glorious, as if the angels were
kissing its banners into crimson and with deft fingers were garnishing
the leaky clouds with prismatic hues; with her, the little birds upon
sportive pinions would syllable their songs into the dialect of love.
But she was passing away--passing away like the shadowy vapor that
clings for a moment to the mountain's crest, like the resplendent star
that shimmers more beautifully as it is dipping its disc below the
western verge, and bids us good night--like the breath of the crushed
flower that exhales its aroma for a moment, and is gone. Passing away
from a home that is darkened by shadows, passing away from the hearts
that are consumed into dead white ashes.
What black stygian waters were rushing vehemently against the fretted
casements of these poor souls. Ties that are sundering here are binding
into a glorious sheaf loves and affections up yonder, as imperishable as
God's great throne. Passing away from the frigid griefs that are soon to
environ old Ingleside, when the blood in its channels is to pause in its
circulation, when a negro, vile and savage lacerates the dear, dear face
of her beautiful daughter, and her precious blood follows the thorns.
Passing away before the proud head of her noble husband is bowed in
ignominy, when the shackles of a felon encircle arms--enslave hands that
never struck a blow, except for his bleeding country. Passing away to
plead in her own glorified person to a merciful Father to speedily unite
the three in the realm of joy, where there are no shadows and no griefs.
Poor Alice knew as by revelation that the lifeless form before which she
was kneeling and weeping was not her mother. Oh, what a royal welcome,
what a banqueting upon love there will be by and by, when the terrors
of the horrid reconstruction shall so chill her young blood that it will
cease to flow, by and by, beyond the sighing and the weeping.
Tenderly, yea reverently, the body was placed into the casket and
removed to the parlor, just under the portrait of her dear soldier boy
who went to heaven from the gory field of Manassas. Friends had gathered
into the room and the man of God read from the blessed Book, "I am the
resurrection and the life." The solemn discourse was almost concluded
when ruffianly booted feet were heard in the verandah, and a loud knock
was heard at the door. Armed, uniformed negroes had come--come like an
Arctic gale, chilling and freezing heart and soul--with a mandate to
snatch the living from the dead.
Laflin himself would not have pursued the poor wretch within the barred
precincts of the sepulchre. The infidel powers of the East would have
paused when they saw this "truce of God." But there was no order of
adjournment in the message which they brought. "Forthwith" was the
unequivocal command and "forthwith" was now. They had come to take the
broken-hearted man, though he clung to the casket; come to prod him with
bayonets if the rigid limbs did not respond quickly to the command,
"Quick time--March!"
Once or twice, through sheer faint, the poor old man fell out of line
and against a black guard who violently pushed him into line with the
imprecation--
"D--n yu, git back inter yer place, er I'll stick my bagonet clar froo
yer."
He was arraigned before three white men and four negroes, and in the
presence of whom stood the white-haired stranger, Mr. Summers.
The Colonel did not clearly comprehend the character of the accusation
against him. He had been informed by no one except in a general way.
Perhaps he would learn as he followed Mr. Summers in his address to this
tribunal.
"Gentlemen," said Mr. Summers, continuing his speech, "whilst it was my
plain duty to report upon the case of Colonel Seymour, I do so with the
hope that he may be given a day to answer; indeed, gentlemen, I pray
that you may not deal harshly with this old man, who is now in the sere
and yellow leaf. You say that you will require him to turn his back upon
the traditions of the past--upon the ancient landmarks; that he shall
fraternize with our party, in fact become one of us, or his condition
shall be made intolerable and his life burdensome. Spare the rod,
gentlemen, for his sake and for the sake of his only child."
"What have you to say for yourself, sir," asked the chairman frigidly,
addressing himself to Colonel Seymour.
"Sir, I am an old man. One more turn of your wheel--the tightening of
the cord ever so slight--and a life worthless and burdensome will drop
at your feet. The standard of truth, virtue and patriotism has bowed its
once lofty crest, and is now prostrate in the dust. All that was
beautiful and lovely in this land of our fathers is sinking, rotting,
dying beneath the blight and mildew of your accursed lust of power. Why
should I survive? My life, sir, is behind me. You ask me to be your
slave. Sir, your bondage is inexorable--it is the life of an outlaw, a
traitor, a felon. You ask me to be your friend, and I should consort
with thieves; I should crucify every principle of a man. You ask me to
be your candidate--my consent would be an act of stultification. Sir,
against your savage principles I swear an eternal hatred and wage an
interminable war."
The feeble old man sank back exhausted into his seat.
"We intend," exclaimed the chairman with great deliberation, "to scarify
the old wounds of the rebels until they bleed afresh. Sixty days, sir,
within which to prove your loyalty. You can retire sir."
Thus ran the order, marked with three blood-red stars. * * *
[Illustration: "Kase de high shurruff he dun und seed what wuz ergwine
ter cum arter de bellion fell, und he flopped ober ter de
publikins"----"Ole Mars Jon haint ergwine ter flop nowheys," replied
Clarissa.]