UNDER THE HAMMER.
As Colonel Seymour was passing a group of negroes in the court-yard this
irritating remark from one of them arrested his attention. "Dat dar
secesh's home is agwine to be sold at auction ter day under a margige,
und de boss is ergwine ter buy hit;" and very soon thereafter a
half-grown negro boy ringing a huge bell, and bearing aloft a placard as
imperiously as a Roman lictor bore the axe and fasces, halted before
him, and displayed offensively the following advertisement. "By virtue
of a certain deed of mortgage executed by John W. Seymour and wife Alice
to James W. Bowden, and duly recorded in the proper office of the ----
county, and value duly assigned to me, I shall sell for cash on
Saturday, the 6th day of November, 186-- the lands and premises
described in said mortgage deed, and known and designated as Ingleside,
containing twenty-five hundred acres," Abram Laflin, assignee. Thus ran
the publication that may possibly furnish a key to the mystic meaning of
the three blood-red stars under the written order. "Sixty days in which
to prove your loyalty." To-day, and the patrimonial estate of Ingleside
with all but its cherished memories, will pass by right of purchase into
the hands of the carpet baggers and negroes; to-day, and the axe of the
barbarian will be laid at the roots of the ancestral oaks; to-day, and
the grained corridors will echo to ribaldry and wassail; to-day, and the
war scathed veteran and his beautiful daughter, like the pariahs of
Hindoostan, shelterless vagrants, will beg their bread and home. "If an
uninterpretable destiny; if an inscrutable providence so orders and
decrees, that I shall surrender this home, yet as token of the love I
bear this wretched country, I will abide by her; I will cherish her as
my wife, my mother, my child; I will defend her with my sword, my
speech, my life, and I will be to my oppressed countrymen, their friend,
their champion and their brother. I abhor these natural sons of Belial
who are whetting the knife that will drink their blood;" so exclaimed
the old soldier without a blemish upon his name. So thought the
fire-tried christian who was appealing to the ultimate tribunal for
right; so thought the man who was harrassed by every resource of
vengeance, as he turned his rigid face from the jeering crowd, the
assassins of his peace.
The old man with fading memory tried in vain to recollect the
transactions he had had with James W. Bowden, to whom he once owed
twenty-five thousand dollars, and to whom he had conveyed in trusts the
valuable estate of Ingleside. He asked appealingly of his daughter "Have
you no knowledge of these affairs that will aid me in this extremity."
"My dear father," she answered reflectively, "I am sure the debt has
been paid. Indeed I heard you say that you paid it in gold."
"But where are my papers?" he asked; "Scattered to the winds by the
school mistress and her negro pupils. Shall I ever be able to exhibit
any proof of its payment? Can you not assist me? Perhaps we may find
somewhere the cancelled note."
Bowden was dead and a profligate son alone survived.
There were a hundred negroes who thronged the negro auctioneer.
"What is I bid fur dis plantashun?" "Fifteen thousand dollars."
"Hold!" interrupted Colonel Seymour now advancing. "I forbid the sale of
this land or any part of it, the debt is paid."
"Ha, Ha. Ha," jeered the negroes, "dat dar secesh's mind is a puryfied
wanderin," shouted a chorus of voices. "Cry de bid Mr. auctioneer,"
shouted the negro Wiggins. "Ef dat ar white man mak eny mo sturbance,
we's agwine ter slap him in de jail forthwid. I warrantees de title fer
de boss." "Twenty thousand----twenty-five thousand----once, twice,
free, times dun und gone to Mr. Laflin."
The whole affair seemed an illusion, an unnatural evaporation of land
and houses--the Ingleside plantation dissipated into thin vapor like the
genii of the sealed casket in the Arabian Nights.
"Great God," exclaimed the broken hearted old man, "and Laflin the
wretch! Laflin the monster standing there in dumb show, and nodding his
head in savage and pantomimic gravity when the hammer fell."
The old Colonel and his daughter rode back to their home perhaps for the
last time. One of the blood-red stars had been blotted out of the
tyrants' calendar. Two more like the painted dolphins in the circus at
Antioch remained to be taken down, one by one. The search for the
missing document was renewed when they reached home, but unavailingly.
Alice however discovered in an old ash barrel in a neatly folded
package, two papers signed by Abram Laflin to her father; one a note for
five thousand dollars, the other a mortgage securing the payment of the
note. No trace however, of the twenty-five thousand dollar mortgage.
Alice carried the Laflin note to her father whose mind for a moment
appeared a complete blank; he then remembered the transaction
circumstantially.
"Yes, Yes," he exclaimed reminiscently; "the note was executed to me as
a fee, when he was indicted and acquitted for murder in 1866. Now he may
let slip the dogs of war, and 'damned be he who first cries hold!
Enough!'"
It was painful to observe that Mr. Seymour had become so injuriously
affected by the exciting events transpiring from day to day, that his
mind upon matters of business was almost inert. Certainly his memory was
fast failing; a giving away of the mental poise; and in consequence
thereof, poor Alice was picking up here and there great bits of trouble,
with as much freedom as the washwoman gathers sticks for her fire.
"Tomorrow she exclaimed will be the Sabbath. Blessed day will it bring
surcease from sorrow, a moment's respite from the maelstrom of trouble?"
she asked, "I can only hope. I feel sometimes like crying aloud, 'What
shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue'!"
When the morning broke tranquilly upon the old home, the little birds
were caroling in the trees, and the poor girl felt that her care worn
spirit should rest this holy Sabbath day. After the morning meal, her
father perturbed and dejected walked along the river's bank, and she
retired to the parlor where she sang and played. In the evening old Ned
came to express again his sense of gratitude to his young mistress and
his old master, and observed among other things, remorsefully, how
foolish he had been to take up with the vagaries of the negroes, who
were fomenting so much trouble. "And mars John," he continued, "I seed
where I was agwine rong, und I knowed yu wud fetch me outen de miry
clay. Times is er gitten so mistrustful dat I cum ter ax yu und yung
missis mouten me und Clarissa stay wid yu in de grate house? Whar we kin
run on urrans fo yu nite und day."
Old Ned like the hunted rabbit had been smoked out of his hollow.
Reconstruction with its insipid pageants had come: It had emptied its
cornucopia in the old commissariat; not a dust of flour, nor a fluid
dram of molasses, nor a pound of bacon had it put into the jug or sack
of the aged and the poor; and the stars and stripes waved as proudly
from its mast head as if there were no vacant stomachs, no hungry
freedmen in all the South. Colonel Seymour was inexpressibly glad to see
the change that had come over the spirit of the old slave. He had been
employed in many situations and he was faithful in all. He had been his
carriage driver; he had packed old missis trunks when she went to the
seaside or the springs in the happy old days; and Ned remembered how
contented he was, when an imaginary line separated peace from discord,
plenty from squalor. He had seen old missis put away in the ground, and
with him were feelings that would not be stifled that were now recasting
his nature, however sensual and hardened it had become by contact with
vicious companions. When the clouds of war lowered angrily Ned's faith
in old missis grew stronger and stronger, and like a watch dog always on
duty, so Ned was always at his post; to obey every command, to
anticipate every wish. It was Ned who held ajar the old plantation gate,
that day the young cavalier rode into the deepening shadows on his way
to Manassas, and with hat in hand bade him good-bye with the entreaty,
"Be shore und cum back nex Saddy to yo po mammy. I'll be rite heer to
open de gate." It was Ned who reverently placed the spray of the little
immortelle upon the grave of Mars Harry when the procession had turned
their faces homeward. It was Ned who carried "old Missis" in his arms
back to the carriage when she swooned at the grave, and now he had come
back like the prodigal confessing his sins.
"If Gord spares me ter outlive ole marser, I'm agwine ter put him erway
lak ole missis and yung mars Harry, und strow his grave wid hiasents und
lillys ob de valley. I haint agwine ter put no mo pendence in de carpet
baggers, dey will gouge de eyeballs outen yo hed, und I'm agwine ter
twist my eyes clean erround de tother side when I passes de ole
kommissery. 'Ole glory' is jess flirting up its skerts, und larfing when
poor ole niggers is agwine erlong de rode, jess es scornful es er
flop-eared mule when he pokes yu under de jaw wid his hind foot, widout
ary warnin. I wishes dat de bosum of struction wud slam de ole
kommissery clean clar to de yurth, dat I does."
"You seem to be very thoroughly disgusted with the situation Ned?"
observed the Colonel.
"I is mars John, deed I is. Ef a pusson fools yu won time, or maybe two
times, er yu mout say free time, you mout try him agin, but ef he fools
yu all de time ole Marser, what is yu agwine to do den, mout as well be
flinging de hook in de crick for Joshaway's munny, as agwine to dat ole
kommissery wid yo happysack speckin arry moufful ob wittles."
"Is that the experience of all the colored people?" the Colonel
inquired.
"No sar, no sar," Ned replied with feeling. "Dem dat carries woters to
de conwenshun, und drinks de bosses sperits dey gits a leetle now und
den, but tother wuns sucks de fingers in misury all de time, specktin,
un gittin disappinted."
"By the way tell me something about Ephraim, how is he getting on,"
asked the Colonel.
"Why bress your soul mars John he is clean outen site; er totin great
big yaller upper lips on his sholders, und er sword dat runs on a wheel
on de groun, und fedders on his hat same as a pee-fowell. He is dun und
growd outen my membrance. Dey got norated eroun dat he is agwine ter
marry a white gal in de town, und Joshaway und Hannah has dun and got er
inwite to de weddin."
"And Aleck, what is he doing?" asked the Colonel.
"Ugh, Ugh," exclaimed Ned, "now yu obersizes my kalkilashuns, mars John.
He's wusser den Efrum, er uprarin fine housen all ober dis plantashun."
"The savage?" muttered the enraged man. "All Laflin's doings I suppose.
Sixty days within which to prove your loyalty," he muttered. "The black
flag of the buccaneers of reconstruction marked not with death's heads
but by red stars!" A score of carpenters were plying their vocation on
the plantation. A confusion of sounds, such as sawing and hammering,
drowned the melody of the singing birds, and Aleck like the boldest of
pirates, was caracoling here and there giving orders; and fashionably
dressed negro women strolled offensively and imperiously over the
grounds.
"Mars Jon," exclaimed Ned, "I dun and tole yu so; now yu sees fo yosef."
Before the deed of purchase was recorded, the devilish freedmen were
enforcing their claim to the plantation by visible, notorious and
violent occupation. The colonel and Alice were sitting in the verandah
one beautiful starlit night; there was scarcely the rustle of a leaf and
the full-orbed moon was shining with a radiant splendour. Of course
there was but one event to think about. Was it not a grief that lay like
a dead bulk upon the heart, all the day and all the night; and peopled
their dreams with negroes and ogres too?
"Thank God," exclaimed Alice "mother is out of it all. They were but
heaping the fagots around the furnace when she so wearied went home to
her eternal rest. Now the fires are all consuming."
"My daughter," said Colonel Seymour dejectedly after awhile, "I will go
to my grave with the knowledge that the Bowden debt has been paid; and
not one cent do I owe upon it. It is possible I may err, but as God is
my judge, this great loss has come upon me, through the devilish
machinations of Laflin, in the employment of the school-mistress, to
occupy the office in which he knew my valuable papers were deposited. An
ingeniously devised plot doubtlessly, but one distressingly successful."
"Mars Jon," interrupted Clarissa quite seriously, "Haint yu neber foun
dem papers yit, yu was er sarchin fur?"
"No indeed, and I do not believe I shall ever find them."
"Grate King! Ole marser I specks dem dere pizen niggers shoolickin
eround de offis dun und stroyed em outen puryfied cussedness."
"Quite likely," rejoined the Colonel.
"Lemme studdy er minit," said Clarissa. "Pears lak Ned gin me sum papers
to stow erway in my ole blue chiss. Wud yu kno hit ef you wast to see
hit mars Jon? Don't speck it is wurf nuffin do. Ned he gin hit to me way
back yander, I dismember how long ergo, und he tole me to put it in de
blu chiss, twell he ax for hit. Don't speck hit is ergwine to do mars
Jon no good do, but hit haint ergwine to pizen noboddy ef hit don't doo
no good. I'm ergwine to fetch it rite now."
The old gentleman paid but little attention to the negro until he saw
her returning with uplifted hand like a stalking spectre.
"Now mars Jon," she cried, out of breath, "yu read dat paper, und cide
fo yoself."
As soon as the old man took the paper in his hand, he forgot his gouty
joints, and his white hairs; he forgot who he was or where he was and
danced a succession of Scottish reels with old Clarissa, as an unwilling
partner.
"Why father!" cried Alice in great fright, "Clarissa! Clarissa! What is
the matter with my dear father?"
"Oh! Oh! Oh! The mortgage and the note! The mortgage and the note!"
wildly screamed her father. "Thank God! Thank God!"
Clarissa, rubbing her head with both hands where it had struck a pillar
in the wild whirl of the dance, emotionally exclaimed, "Bress de Lord;
mars Jon has yu dun und gon plum crazy? I neber seed sich shines fo in
all my born days; jambye busted dis ole hed wide open ergin dat
postess."
"Clarissa," excitedly exclaimed the Colonel, "you shall have forty acres
and a mule too."
"Grate Jurusulum! Mars Jon, whot I want wid dat lan? Und I dun got wun
mule, und de Lord knose he tarrifies de life outen me."
"Alice," remarked her father, still excited, "I know all about the
matter now. Old Mr. Bowden was very ill when I paid the debt, but feebly
raised himself in bed and marked upon the face of the note, 'Paid in
full.' Here it is," said the Colonel, "and he surrendered the note and
mortgage in the presence of his worthless son, and promised that he
would cancel the record; but the poor fellow died. His son witnessed the
settlement. I had no doubt that this villainous son, knowing that his
father had died before cancelling the mortgage, and believing that in
the terrible condition of the country I could not prove the payment of
the debt, did unlawfully, maliciously and feloniously conspire, combine
and confederate with the wretch Laflin to defraud me of my property.
Thank God the beasts have been hounded to their lair. I remember that
upon coming out of the town my hands were filled with letters and
papers, and in getting into my carriage this particular package dropped
into the road and I ordered Ned to pick it up, and I doubt not that
while I was busy reading Ned did not care to interrupt me, and put it
into his pocket, and thinking it of no value, forgot to give it to me. I
feel now like falling down upon my knees and thanking the great God of
heaven and earth for this, His especial providence and mercy."
It is said that in one of the beautiful isles in the southern
Pacific--the land of the mango and pineapple, where the air is
perpetually perfumed by the aroma of flowers; where the birds of every
plume and every voice, like animated pictures in gold and emerald and
carmine, flit in and out of whispering branches; where pellucid waters
ripple along, their voices keyed to song and laughter--that the people
are bestial and barbaric. They distil from a gum that exudes from one of
their umbrella-top trees an intoxicant that bestializes the man, woman
and child who drinks it, and he or she will run a-muck, ferocious in
temper, devilish in spirit, and betraying a morbid desire to destroy
whoever or whatever they may encounter. Here in these full grown years
of nineteenth-century civilization, amid Christian churches and
ministers; amid ten thousand object lessons suggesting the vanity of
human pursuits originating in wrong; the eternity of God's punishments;
the certainty and swiftness of His retributions--the black, defiled,
distorted genius of reconstruction was running a-muck, drinking from a
brazen chalice the sweetened liquor.