THE CLOUD THICKENS.
“Yon Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.
Fear him not, Cæsar, he’s not dangerous;
He is a noble Roman and well given.”
—JULIUS CÆSAR.
THE State of South Carolina was settled by political refugees and
desperadoes of every description and from every nation, with no unity
of ideas or interests; and African slavery was introduced but two years
after the first settlement had secured a permanent footing. Hence,
arrogance and oppression, rapacity and murder, early became the rule
and occupation of the people.
The existence and perpetuation of slavery during more than eight
generations caused and necessitated an arrest of progress in
civilization, and the war which resulted in the emancipation of
the slaves and the re-establishment of the Union, found the whites
in several of the Southern States, in many respects not far in
advance of the people of England in the sixteenth century; and as
those feudalistic and inharmonious families—the descendants of the
earliest settlers—are still recognized as “the first families,” the
“aristocracy of the State”—in the year of our Lord 1876, and of
the Republic one hundred—boasting and bravado were accomplishments
ostentatiously displayed there, and often sustained by such brutal
assault and lawless violence and outrage, as those of the worst days of
feudalism.
This state of society alone explains the temerity of the threats and
preparations for violence, and their fearful consummation, which
blacken the history of the Republic’s centennial year.
While Robert Baker and his sons were in Dunn’s groggery, informing
their counsel respecting the particulars of the suit he was about
to conduct for them, many exciting scenes were transpiring in the
vicinity, and the streets of the doomed village were becoming lively
with the presence of armed men, who were freely imbibing whisky, and
threatening to “kill every —— nigger in Baconsville that day.”
Especially loud and frequent were the threats against the Captain and
Second Lieutenant of the militia company.
As soon as half-past three o’clock, quite a crowd had gathered around
George Dunn’s store, and the bar was evidently reaping the rich harvest
Mrs. D. had anticipated; while with loud and excessively revolting
profanity, the case shortly to be tried was canvassed, and rumors of a
“negro insurrection” rehearsed.
“Who is that coming?” asked one, as a quiet man of medium size
approached.
“Oh, that is Judge Kanrasp of the county seat, he is a cursed Northern
Republican,” was the reply, accompanied by a shocking oath.
The wrathful eyes of the entire crowd were fixed upon him as he came
up, and, entering the store, approached the place where the two Bakers
sat, and addressing the General said, “Mr. Gaston informed me that you
wished to see me.”
This was not his first interview with Mr. _Robert_ Baker in connection
with this difficulty. The latter had stopped him that morning upon the
streets of the city opposite, to speak of the pending trial.
The Judge had then stated his opinion that Gaston’s testimony had
thus far developed no legal case against the colored men, and urged
the abandonment of the case, as to push it further, would merely
excite ill-feeling between the two races at a time when it was most
undesirable—at the commencement of a political campaign—and even
should the plaintiffs secure a judgment, it was a matter which could be
appealed, and in a higher court their case could not stand a moment.
“I shall do no such thing,” replied Mr. Baker. “The negroes of
Baconsville have been very offensive; they have interfered with my
sons, and I am _determined that they shall be punished. The case shall
be prosecuted_, and so far as any feeling is concerned, I don’t care
for that. Some of my friends and neighbors from the country have been
informed that the trial will take place this evening, and they will be
present, not less than twenty-five or thirty of them.”
“Mr. Baker, perhaps there will be two or three hundred,” said Kanrasp.
“Well, yes (with an oath), two or three thousand!” and the two men
separated, and the Judge at once crossed the river to Baconsville, and
confidentially communicated all to a discreet colored man there, in
whose cool, quiet determination he had great confidence; commissioning
him to see the officers of the militia company, and instruct them
to present themselves at the Court, submit to judgment whatever it
might be, and then, by an appeal to a higher court, find an easy way
out of the difficulty; as the “precept” or informal paper which had
been served upon them, must cause the judgment to fail there; and
stating that in case of an attempted defense before Justice Rives, he
apprehended serious trouble from the throng that would undoubtedly be
present.
Other important business detained both Kanrasp and his influential
friend Springer till the middle of the afternoon, when, on re-entering
the street, they saw the village thickly besprinkled with squads of men
from the rifle clubs of the vicinity. These clubs or military companies
existed in open defiance of law and the Governor’s prohibitive
proclamation.
“This looks like trouble,” said Judge Kanrasp to his friend. “Strange
way to attend a simple trial! Now go right up and see those officers
_immediately_, and urge them to be on hand at court, and stand
judgment.” So saying he went to Marmor’s office upon other business,
where Gaston soon rode up, bringing Gen. Baker’s request for the
interview, to which we find him responding.
“I am here to represent my cousin, Mr. Robert Baker, in this matter,”
said the General, “and wish you, Mr. Kanrasp, to sit down and tell me
what it is.”
Judge K. complied, adding the advice he had given his clients.
“We have been annoyed a great deal by the negroes about here, and I am
determined to get satisfaction, and Gen. Baker has been brought here as
my attorney, to see that satisfaction is given us,” said Robert Baker,
in a loud and vehement tone.
“Now, Judge Kanrasp,” said the General, “will you not go and see those
officers of this company and request them to call upon me? I desire
to tell them what I think is necessary for them to do to prevent the
possibility of difficulty in the future. A great deal of feeling has
been growing between Mr. Robert Baker’s family and immediate neighbors,
and these colored people in Baconsville.”
“What proposition do you make them?”
“Well, I think it will be necessary for them to apologize to my cousin
and surrender their arms.”
As he did not say to whom their arms should be surrendered, the Judge
replied——
“Well, General, you know I am, like yourself, merely an incident
in Baconsville; and whilst I have, of course, a certain amount
of influence with the colored people, on account of my political
affiliations with them, I cannot undertake to say that they will
respond to your request. I will do what I can to induce them to do so.
But suppose these negotiations and propositions fail, is it likely
that that there will be a collision?”
“I think there will.”
“Well, as I am one of a very few white ‘radicals’ here, if a collision
takes place I suppose I shall stand a pretty poor chance.”
“I have no doubt that you will.”
Shortly after Judge K. left Mr. Marmor’s office (which adjoined
his dwelling), Capt. Doc, Lieut. Watta, Mr. Springer and Rev. Mr.
Jackson (the Legislative member who had delivered the oration on the
4th), entered. Mr. Jackson was much excited, and walked up and down
the room, interlarding questions and ejaculations and prayers quite
promiscuously; unheeding the kindly solicitude of a bright little boy
of five years, with shining auburn ringlets, and great, soft, spiritual
eyes, which looked eagerly towards “the Elder’s” face as he went
tugging a large Bible back and forth behind him.
“Ha! Jackson, hear that boy now,” said Doc. “The child is the best
Christian of the two, come to the pinch.”
“What? What was you saying Doc?” asked the Reverend Honorable.
“Why, just see what that boy has got, and hear what he’s saying. _He_
don’t scare worth a cent. Do you Bub? You’ll make a soldier some day,
won’t you?”
“No sir, I reckon I won’t, cause soldiers kill. ‘Thou shalt not kill.’
That’s the sixth commandment.”
“What about the book, sonny,” asked Elder Jackson.
“My Sunday school teacher says when I’m afraid, I must ask God what to
do; and this is His letter, He wrote it. It’s big,” tugging to raise it
to the level of the man’s hand.
The Elder took the Bible, sat down, drew the child to his side, opened
it at random, and read, Isaiah xviii: 7: “In that time shall the
present be brought unto the Lord of hosts of a people scattered and
peeled, and from a people terrible from their beginning hitherto; a
nation meted out and trodden under foot, whose land the rivers have
spoiled, to the place of the name of the Lord of hosts, the Mount Zion.”
He closed the book muttering, “Yes, the freshet came clear up to the
church, clear up to the church.”
“The whole matter is that the Bakers are determined to break up this
drilling,” said Marmor. “You’re too good a drill master, Doc. The old
man himself told me that it was wrong, and that the niggers shouldn’t
have no militia company, and that it was wrong for you to drill by
moonlight. I told him that the white militia over here in Georgia
drilled on the streets every night. ‘Well, it’s wrong for the niggers
to drill at _all_,’ says he.”
“Well, now, it does ’pear to me like the white folks is determined
to put the devil into the colored people’s heads anyhow. Now, we’re
honest in this matter, and only want to have a nice militia company
like the white folks does, and like free citizens has got a right
to, and to protect the State when it needs it and the Governor calls
for us; but they just goes to work, and by talking about what they
pretend the colored people is a going, or _intending_ to do, they just
makes the colored people mad, and puts these bad ideas into their
heads, and by-and-by the colored people, maybe will get courage enough
to undertake to do as they is really instructing us to do. And then
there’s more’n that in it too. Mor’n two months ago Hanson Baker tole
me and John Peters, Press Wells, and John Bade, and if I mistake not,
Lem Panesly, that the Democrats had made it up in their own minds,
and they had gone over the State, and also had about thirty men from
Texas and Mississippi to come into this State, and they were feeding
them, and organizing all the white men into certain different clubs;
and before election that there had to be a certain number of negroes
killed—leading men; and if after that they found out they couldn’t
carry the State that way, they was gwoine to kill enough so that they
could carry the majority. He said it is a fact that that has to be
done, and he said in the presence of these men, that it had to start
right here in Baconsville. He said Baconsville is the leading place in
the county (for the niggers, you know), and if they could be successful
in killing them that they wanted to in Baconsville, they could carry
the county; but the same has to be done in all the counties, that there
was no way to prevent it. I told him we had some laws, and a Governor
and a President. He says he didn’t belong to none o’ the clubs, and
hadn’t nothing to do with it, but it would be done, shor. I says,
‘Suppose the colored men have a poll to themselves, and the white men
to themselves,’ and he said, ‘It don’t make a bit o’ difference what
sort o’ polls they have; it is the voting we want to stop; and these
voting niggers has got to be killed. The white men has declared that
the State has got to be ruled by white men again, and we have got to
have just such a government as we had before the war; and when we git
it, all the poor men and the niggers has got to be disfranchised, and
the rich men will rule! And he tole me then that our town marshal,
John Carr and Dan will certainly be killed. I asked why? and he said
there was plenty of men that had plenty against them, and they would
kill them _shor_. Says I, ‘Mr. Baker will I be in that number?’ he
says, ‘No, I don’t know whether yo’r name is down or no, but it depends
on how yo’ behave yo’self.’ He’d been drinking some, or he wouldn’t
ha’ been so free to tell. Well, then I received a note the other
day—a letter with my name, and specifying a dozen or more in this
neighborhood that have to be killed; and _I was shor_ to be killed.
Now, this is the beginning of it shor. They want to disband this
company so that the Governor won’t have nothing to call on to put them
down, and we can’t get no protection till the United States can send
soldiers from somewhere, after we can get word to the Governor, and he
can git it to Grant. They must think we’re just cowards and fools if
we’ll let ’em break us up, though I’ll agree that the men ha’n’t got
much fight in ’em, but I have, and I wish _they_ had,” and Captain Doc
tossed a newspaper to the extreme end of the room.
“Scattered and peeled!” “Scattered and peeled!” said the Elder, as he
resumed his striding about the apartment.
While these excited men thus conversed, there were borne from the
street to their ears the sound of blood-curdling oaths, and shouts of
“We’ll carry the State about the time we’ve killed four or five hundred
of these niggers and their carpet-bag cronies.” We’ve got to have South
Carolina.” “The white men have got to rule.” “This shall be a white
man’s government again.”
“Just hear that chap singing,” said Marmor with a ghastly smile:
“We’re going to redeem South Carolina to-day. This is the beginning of
the redemption of my Caroline.” The poor, maudlin fellow sat upon his
horse near the corner of the street hard by, and improvised a lengthy
political madrigal evidently to his own exquisite delight.
“I reckon you’ve got the right of it Doc,” said Marmor; “the political
side of this fuss swallows up all the rest. The fuss on the Fourth, was
only got up for making a spot to strike at.”
“Well,” said Doe, both goes together; for all the politics they know is
to put the niggers down, and themselves up atop; and they are trying to
fool the ignorant ones into believing that the constitutions has all
run out, so they won’t try to take the law on ’em.”
“They’d better look out, or they may feel the law themselves. If
Chamberlain can’t enforce it, there is a United States, they’ll find!”
“I reckon so! I reckon so!” chimed in all present.
“Capt. Doc,” said Elder Jackson, “you must remember that it is not your
own life and your company’s lives that is in danger, but that of every
colored individual in town; and the happiness and prosperity of all
will be at their mercy if a fight takes place; and so I beg you to come
to terms with Baker. Bend and apologize a little for the sake of them
that had nothing to do with the Fourth of July difficulty.”
“What can _I_ do? Just tell me. I haven’t failed to think of that, I
tell you. That part of it is the biggest trouble to me now.”
“It is Watta that has offended them the most,” said Springer; “for he
got so mad last Thursday. He’s got too much white blood in him to stand
their abuse, and he was nigh about as abusive as Hanson Baker himself,
that day.
It was all true enough what he said, but that didn’t make it no better
for them to take.”
“Now, Brother Watta, just you go, as you know you ought to, and
acknowledge you ought to have kept your temper, and that’ll make the
whole thing right, and Doc’ll apologize too,” said the apparently
confiding Elder.
“Do you think so? Well, suppose you come along with us,” said Watta, a
slight veil of credulity scarcely concealing a sarcasm that bordered
upon contempt for the self-loving simplicity of the Elder. “I’d rather
get on my knees to them,” he added more seriously, “bad as I hate them,
than have my wife and children as scared as they are to-day. But I
doubt the success of even that, unless I would give them my gun, and
promise to lie there, and let them kick me when they chose, or shoot
me if they like, and I’m afraid my _temper_ would rise _then_, if I
didn’t.”
In defiance of fears, the men all laughed at the ludicrous picture
of this tall, genteel-appearing, light yellow _gentleman_, brimful
of the same “spirit” that fired some of the noblest heroes the South
ever boasted of, and in whose veins coursed much of the same ancestral
blood, cringing in such a pusillanimous fashion.
“It is no time for fun,” said Springer. “Will you go with _me_, Adam
Watta, and see General Baker?”
“If you say you think it’ll do any good, I will go.”
“You can but perish if you go,” said Elder Jackson, who was, like many
another, very courageous for his neighbors, and quite willing to bid
them Godspeed in any efforts for the safety of the town, including
Elder J. and his possessions.
But the men paused in the doorway. “Ask a man to run the gauntlet of
all those armed and half-drunken enemies? I tell you I can’t do it; I’m
not prepared to die, and I sha’n’t go. I could _fight_, but to go right
into a crowd to be _murdered_, I’m not ready,” and Watta turned back.
Looking out upon the constantly increasing mob, Springer did not urge
him.
“I’m going to Prince Rives’s house,” said Doc, and strode out of the
office and down the street.
The cry of an infant was heard in an adjoining room, followed by the
sound of a rocking cradle, and the voice of the little boy singing in
chanting style, “You must not cry, little sister; for the wicked men is
all agoing around to kill all the little children, ‘from two years old
and under,’ and they will shoot your papa, and make your mamma cry. So
take this rattle and be still.”
“Louie,” called Marmor, from the office. “Don’t say such things.
Nobody’ll hurt you, nor the baby. Where is your mamma?”
“She is here crying—sitting right here crying.”
“The man arose quickly, and entered the room. “Why, Jane,” said he,
“what are you crying about? It will be all settled, and there’ll be no
fuss.”
“Don’t you wish you could make me believe that, when you know you don’t
believe it yourself? I do wish you would go away over to the city, and
take the train somewhere. I know they will be after you. You know they
want you killed, because you are a radical leader; and now will be
their time.”
“Do you suppose I would go and leave you and the children?”
“You know you couldn’t defend us, and we don’t need it. We’re a great
deal safer without you than with you. I should fret all the time for
fear that you had fallen into their hands, to be sure; but I _know_
there is no chance for you to escape death if you stay here.”
Marmor returned to his office, and found that his friends had all left.
He saw them approaching Rives’s house. There they found Captain Doc
and the Trial Justice in earnest conversation.
“I can’t appear before your court, Judge Rives—not to-day,” said the
captain; “for I feel that your court is unable to protect my life, and
I believe my life is unsafe. I am willing that yo’ should go to work
and draw up a bond, that yo’ think proper, and I am willing to give
bonds to a higher court, where I think my life will be safe. The reason
I come to yo’ to tell yo’, is because I don’t want yo’ to suppose that
I treat yo’r court with no disrespect by not coming; but it is because
I don’t think my life is safe.”
The Justice reflected.
“Well, you must use your own judgment,” said he. “Of course, if your
life is unsafe, and if these men intend to take your life, of course,
I can’t protect you. I haven’t protection enough to protect you; my
constables can’t do much!”
“That is my belief,” replied Doc, “and for that reason I don’t want to
go befo’ yo’r court without yo’ force me to; and then if I am killed,
yo’ will be responsible.”
“You can use your own judgment, Captain. I shall go to court at the
proper time. Your name, of course, will be called, and if you don’t
answer to your name—well, _you won’t be there to answer_. It’s a pity
but this thing couldn’t be settled without going to court. I’m afraid
once at the court room it will be impossible to get along without
trouble.”
“Well, I want it settled,” said Doc. “And I,” “And I,” said the two
Lieutenants.
“Well, then, suppose I go for you, and ask what will give
satisfaction,” said Springer.
“All right,” was the ready response from all.
Mr. Springer met Judge Kanrasp coming down the street, from his
interview with the General, and each communicated the message he bore,
and thought the best thing for the safety of the town, was to get the
parties together with the crowd excluded.
“Who is to take the guns?” asked Mr. Springer.
“I don’t know. The Governor, I suppose. If not, that may alter the
case.”
“If Gen. Baker will guarantee the safety of the men, I believe they
will be safe, but he should guarantee the safety of the town also.”
“So say I,” replied Judge Kanrasp, and each passed on his errand.
Judge K. reported to the officers only Gen. Baker’s request for an
interview, and withheld his proposition for a settlement.
Soon Mr. Springer returned with the same request from the General.
They all approached the door, and Doc went out upon the street, but
re-entered immediately.
“There is no one more readier than I am to settle, but I see a great
crowd down there at Dunn’s store, all armed, and drunk, or playing off
drunk. Springer, yo’ tell Gen. Baker that I would meet him, but that I
would like for him to come away from where them men are, and that I am
willing to meet him at yo’r house, if that is agreeable.”
The aspect of things became more gloomy very soon. A company of
twenty-five or thirty thoroughly-armed and mounted men had entered the
village some time before, since which squads had been seen coming in
from all directions.
Several leading citizens had joined the group at Rives’s house, and all
united in urging the officers to comply with Gen. Baker’s request; but
they were more and more reluctant to go, fearing it was only a ruse to
decoy them there, secure, disarm, and then murder them.
The suspicion was but natural, as similar transactions had been far
from rare since reconstruction. At length, after it had been reported
that Gen. Baker had sworn to lay the town in ashes if they did not
comply with his demands, all the members of the company again consented
to go, but on approaching the door, fell back again.
“You must go to save the town,” said Springer; “but don’t take your
guns.”
“We won’t go without them,” said all the men.
“But he’ll make a demand for their surrender. Better leave them behind.”
“Yes, that is just it,” said Watta. “You men have been keeping that
back. Why should we go to General Baker? Why doesn’t he come to us if
he wants to see us? There are no drunken rowdies here for him to fear.
Two men drove into our ranks, an organized a legally chartered company
of the State militia, with loyal guns in our loyal hands, and a flag
which brought us freedom from these old masters—the right to stand
up like men, and not fear their nigger-catching blood-hounds; and we
have sworn to be true to that flag—to the United States, and to the
State, and ourselves, and to take care of these guns that belong to
the State, and to yield them up only to lawful authority. These two
nigger-catchers whose occupation is gone, drove into our ranks; and we,
like a set of cowards, opened ranks and let them go through; and now
they bring this ex-confederate General, who got the only title he has
and of which he and they are so proud, in fighting the United States;
they bring this General Baker here, and he asks us to go down to old
Baker’s feet and apologize—for what? _I_ don’t know; and to give up
our guns that we have sworn to protect from all enemies of the Union,
and all unauthorized persons—to give them to this ex-confederate
General, who boasts to-day, and is applauded by these, his old
confederate soldiers around him to-day, for what he did against the
Government. _He_, surrounded by those who love and revere him for what
he did to destroy the Union and keep us and our parents and children in
slavery—he demands our guns and ourselves! Pretty _National Guards_!!
Which are we, men, cowards or traitors?”
“Don’t take your guns, and may be possible you can get along without
giving the guns up. I surely don’t want you to be traitors,” said the
Elder; “but I trust an apology will do.”
“And I trust no such thing,” said Doc. “And where shall we be after
this, living or dead? It won’t make much difference. They want to break
us up! that’s it—and enslave us!”
“Where shall we be? On our knees forever at their feet,” replied Watta;
“that is, if a single man of us ever got away alive, which I’ll warrant
we never should if we refused to give up our guns.”
“But remember, there’ll be bloodshed if you don’t go,” said Elder
Jackson. “Better humble yourselves than be killed.”
“And remember, too, the women and children, and the property,” added
Springer.
“You men is mighty thoughtful; suppose yo’ ’go yo’selves. ’Twouldn’t
be no blood shed if _they_ got killed, I reckon yo’ think,” said a man
from the ranks.
They had retired to an upper room, and Kanrasp approached a window
looking towards Dunn’s store. Doc followed, and then Watta, and then
others.
Still more armed men were seen coming into the town, and the mob around
the General’s headquarters was more dense and disorderly.
“You all know that it would be only my dead body that would ever leave
that place, if I went there,” said Watta. “I should be riddled with
bullets in no time. Those men standing outside of that groggery are
thirsting for my blood this minute.”
[Illustration: “BUT I ‘AM ONLY A NIGGER,’ (BARING HIS YELLOW ARM TO HIS
ELBOW.)”—Page 105.]
“I have known Gen. Baker for several years, and I believe he is an
honorable man, and he will protect you,” said Judge K——.
“An honorable man?” repeated Watta. “‘An honorable man’ he may be when
dealing with those he acknowledges his equals, if there are any such;
but I am ‘only a nigger’ (baring his yellow arm to his elbow.) “Honor?
He’ll ventilate no honor when a nigger or politics is concerned. I
don’t mean any disrespect to you, Judge; but Gen. Baker doesn’t hold
the same views about colored people that you do, as you know.”
“Well, I’m going,” said the First Lieutenant, “and I talked as bad as
any of you on the Fourth. I’ll apologize.”
“But they hate me more than all the rest of you,” resumed Watta, still
inspecting his bare arm. “I’m nearer their color, and the best thing
they can say of a man of my complexion is that he’s a smart fellow,
but needs watching. And they do watch us, and they magnify everything
we do or say, and misconstrue it, and lie about us. And then you know
I’m that heinous offender—a ‘nigger school teacher, and a Republican
newspaper correspondent.’ Why, Gen. Baker _can’t protect me_. I should
be shot a dozen times before he knew I was coming. And then he’d regret
it. That wouldn’t do me much good, nor my family. I tell you it is only
a trap, a decoy, to get us up there and massacre us. If they kill me,
they must come after me, I a’n’t fool enough to go to them to get shot.”
“If the General could get shet of them armed men, would you go?” asked
Springer.
“Yes, certainly.”
“Then, I’ll try if he will go to my house,” and he slipped cautiously
out of the dwelling, for the whites thought the officers were in the
Armory, and he did not wish to undeceive them.
He was successful on his mission, and soon returned; but the officers
had seen the shouting throng surround and follow their General, and as
the streets were rife with warlike menaces, _all_ now utterly refused
to go to a house so near Dunn’s store and the main crowd.
“See! see!” they exclaimed. “They are coming down the street to meet
us! Gen. Baker can’t protect us!” All of which Springer could not
dispute, so he sadly returned to Gen. Baker, who, on his approaching,
called out:
“I suppose you couldn’t get those fellows to meet me?”
“No, General, they are too afraid of these armed bodies of men you have
around you. That is the only reason.”
“Armed men? armed men? I don’t see any armed men!” and that military
dignitary rolled his eyes about as if in pantomime. “Well Sam, there’s
no use parleying any longer. Now, by —— I want those guns, and I’ll
be —— if I don’t have them!”
A movement of expectancy swayed the throng as these words were heard
and passed from lip to lip, and then a shout rent the air.
Mr. Springer wended his way back through the crowd of men on horseback,
and men on foot, whose fingers fidgeted upon the triggers of their
firearms, and he sought the house of Justice Rives with a heavier heart
than he had ever borne before; while General Baker entered his carriage
again, as the hour for court drew near.