After spending a few weeks with Camilla, Louis resolved to settle in the
town of L----n, and as soon as he had chosen his home and made
arrangements for the future, he sent for Ellen, and in a few days she
joined her dear children, as she called Louis and Minnie. Very pleasant
were the relations between Minnie and the newly freed people.
She had found her work, and they had found their friend. She did not
content herself with teaching them mere knowledge of books. She felt
that if the race would grow in the right direction, it must plant the
roots of progress under the hearthstone. She had learned from Anna those
womanly arts that give beauty, strength and grace to the fireside, and
it was her earnest desire to teach them how to make their homes bright
and happy.
Louis, too, with his practical turn of mind, used his influence in
teaching them to be saving and industrious, and to turn their attention
towards becoming land owners. He attended their political meetings, not
to array class against class, nor to inflame the passions of either
side. He wanted the vote of the colored people not to express the old
hates and animosities of the plantation, but the new community of
interests arising from freedom.
For awhile the aspect of things looked hopeful. The Reconstruction Act,
by placing the vote in the hands of the colored man, had given him a new
position. There was a lull in Southern violence. It was a great change
from the fetters on his wrist to the ballot in his right hand, and the
uniform testimony of the colored people was, "We are treated better than
we were before."
Some of the rebels indulged in the hope that their former slaves would
vote for them, but they were learning the power of combination, and
having no political past, they were radical by position, and when
Southern State after State rolled up its majorities on the radical side,
then the vials of wrath were poured upon the heads of the colored
people, and the courage and heroism which might have gained them
recognition, perhaps, among heathens, made them more obnoxious here.
Still Louis and Minnie kept on their labors of love; their inner lives
daily growing stronger and broader, for they learned to lean upon a
strength greater than their own; and some of the most beautiful lessons
of faith and trust they had ever learned, they were taught in the lowly
cabins of these newly freed people.
Often would Minnie enter these humble homes and listen patiently to the
old story of wrong and suffering. Sympathizing with their lot, she would
give them counsel and help when needed. When she was leaving they would
look after her wistfully, and say,
"She mighty good; we's low down, but she feels for we."
And thus day after day of that earnest life was spent in deeds and words
of love and kindness.
But let us enter their pleasant home. Louis has just returned from a
journey to the city, and has brought with him the latest Northern
papers. He is looking rather sober, and Minnie, ready to detect the
least change of his countenance, is at his side.
"What is the matter?" Minnie asked, in a tone of deep concern.
"I am really discouraged."
"What about?"
"Look here," said he, handing her the _New York Tribune_. "State after
State has rolled up a majority against negro suffrage. I have been
trying to persuade our people to vote the Republican ticket, but to-day,
I feel like blushing for the party. They are weakening our hands and
strengthening those of the rebels."
"But, Louis, they were not Republicans who gave these majorities against
us."
"But, darling, if large numbers of these Republicans stayed at home, and
let the election go by default, the result was just the same. Now every
rebel can throw it in our teeth and say, 'See your great Republican
party; they refuse to let the negro vote with them, but they force him
upon us. They don't do it out of regard to the negro, but only to spite
us.' I don't think, Minnie, that I am much given to gloomy forebodings,
but I see from the temper and actions of these rebels, that they are
encouraged and emboldened by these tidings from the North, and to-day
they are turning people out of work for voting the radical ticket. A
while ago they tried flattery and cajolery. You could hear it on almost
every side--'We are the best friends of the colored people.' Appeals
were made to the memories of the past; how they hunted and played
together, and searched for birds' nests in the rotten peach trees, and
when the colored people were not to be caught by such chaff, some were
trying to force them into submission by intimidation and starvation."
Just then a knock was heard at the door, and a dark man entered. There
was nothing in his appearance that showed any connection with the white
race. There was a tone of hopefulness in his speech, though his face
wore a somewhat anxious expression.
"Good morning, Mr. Jackson," said Louis, for, in deference to their
feelings he had dropped the "aunt" and "uncle" of bygone days.
"Good morning," replied the man, while a pleasant smile flitted over his
countenance.
"How does the world use you?" said Louis.
"Well, times are rather bilious with me, but I am beginning to pick up a
little. I get a few boots and shoes to mend. I always used to go to the
mountains, and get plenty of work to do; but this year they wouldn't
give me the situation because I had joined the radicals."
"What a shame," said Louis; "these men who have always had their rights
of citizenship, seem to know so little of the claims of justice and
humanity, that they are ready to brow-beat and intimidate these people
for voting according to their best interests. And what saddens me most
is to see so many people of the North clasping hands with these rebels
and traitors, and to hear it repeated that these people are too ignorant
to vote."
"Ignorant as they are," said Minnie, "during the war they knew more than
their masters; for they knew how to be true to their country, when their
masters were false to it, and rallied around the flag, when they were
trampling it under foot, and riddling it with bullets."
"Ah!" said uncle Richard, "I knows them of old. Last week some of them
offered me $500 if I would desert my party; but I wasn't going to
forsake my people. I have been in purty tight places this year. One
night when I come home my little girl said to me, 'Daddy, dere ain't no
bread in de house.' Now, that jist got me, but I begun to pray, and the
next day I found a quarter of a dollar, and then some of my colored
friends said it wouldn't do to let uncle Jack starve, and they made me
up seventy-five cents. My wife sometimes gets out of heart, but she
don't see very far off."
"I wish," said Louis, after Mr. Jackson had left, "that some of our
Northern men would only see the heroism of that simple-minded man. Here
he stands facing an uncertain future, no longer young in years, stripped
by slavery, his wife not in full sympathy with him, and yet with what
courage he refused the bribe."
"Yes," said Minnie, "$500 means a great deal for a man landless and
poor, with no assured support for the future. It means a comfortable
fire when the blasts of winter are roving around your home; it means
bread for the little ones, and medicine for the sick child, and little
start in life."
"But on the other hand," said Louis, "it meant betrayal of the interests
of his race, and I honor the faithfulness which shook his hands from
receiving the bribe and clasping hands politically with his life-long
oppressors. And I asked myself the question while he was telling his
story, which hand was the better custodian of the ballot, the white
hand that offered the bribe or the black one that refused it. I think
the time will come when some of the Anglo Saxon race will blush to
remember that when they were trailing the banner of freedom in the dust
black men were grasping it with earnest hands, bearing it aloft amid
persecution, pain, and death."
"Louis" said Minnie very seriously, "I think the nation makes one great
mistake in settling this question of suffrage. It seems to me that
everything gets settled on a partial basis. When they are reconstructing
the government why not lay the whole foundation anew, and base the right
of suffrage not on the claims of service or sex, but on the broader
basis of our common humanity."
"Because, Minnie, we are not prepared for it. This hour belongs to the
negro."
"But, Louis, is it not the negro woman's hour also? Has she not as many
rights and claims as the negro man?"
"Well, perhaps she has, but, darling, you cannot better the condition of
the colored men without helping the colored women. What elevates him
helps her."
"All that may be true, but I cannot recognize that the negro man is the
only one who has pressing claims at this hour. To-day our government
needs woman's conscience as well as man's judgment. And while I would
not throw a straw in the way of the colored man, even though I know that
he would vote against me as soon as he gets his vote, yet I do think
that woman should have some power to defend herself from oppression, and
equal laws as if she were a man."
"But, really, I should not like to see you wending your way through
rough and brawling mobs to the polls."
"Because these mobs are rough and coarse I would have women vote. I
would soften the asperity of the mobs, and bring into our politics a
deeper and broader humanity. When I see intemperance send its floods of
ruin and shame to the homes of men, and pass by the grog-shops that are
constantly grinding out their fearful grist of poverty, ruin and death,
I long for the hour when woman's vote will be levelled against these
charnel houses; and have, I hope, the power to close them throughout the
length and breadth of the land."
"Why darling," said Louis, gazing admiringly upon the earnest enthusiasm
lighting up her face, "I shall begin to believe that you are a
strong-minded woman."
"Surely, you would not have me a weak-minded woman in these hours of
trial."
"But, darling, I did not think that you were such an advocate for
women's voting."
"I think, Louis, that basing our rights on the ground of our common
humanity is the only true foundation for national peace and durability.
If you would have the government strong and enduring you should entrench
it in the hearts of both the men and women of the land."
"I think you are right in that remark," said Louis. And thus their
evenings were enlivened by pleasant and interesting conversations upon
the topics of the day.
Once when a union friend was spending an evening at their home Louis
entered, looking somewhat animated, and Minnie ever ready to detect his
moods and feelings, wanted to know what had happened.
"Oh, I have been to a wedding since I left home."
"And pray who was married?"
"Guess."
"I don't know whom to guess. One of our friends?"
"Yes."
"Was it Mr. Welland?"
"Yes."
"And who did he marry? Is she a Northern woman, and a staunch unionist?"
"Well, I can't imagine who she can be."
"Why he married Miss Henson, who sent you those beautiful flowers."
"Why, Louis, is it possible? Why she is a colored woman."
"I know."
"But how came he to marry her?"
"For the same reason I married you, because he loved her?"
"Well," said the union man, who sat quietly listening, "I am willing to
give to the colored people every right that I possess myself, but as to
intermarrying with them, I am not prepared for that."
"I think," said Louis, "that marrying and social equality among the
races will simply regulate itself. I do not think under the present
condition of things that there will be any general intermarrying of the
races, but this idea of rooted antagonism of races to me is all
moonshine. I believe that what you call the instincts of race are only
the prejudices which are the result of custom and education, and if
there is any instinct in the matter it is rather the instinct of nature
to make a Semi-tropical race in a Semi-tropical climate. Welland told me
that he had met his wife when she was a slave, that he loved her then,
and would have bought her had it been in his power, but now that freedom
had come to her he was glad to have the privilege of making her his
wife. He is an Englishman by birth and he intends taking her home with
him to England when a favorable opportunity presents itself. And that is
far more honorable and manly than living together after the old order of
things. I think," said Louis facing the floor "that a cruel wrong was
done to Minnie and myself when life was given to us under conditions
that doomed us to hopeless slavery, and from which we were rescued only
by good fortune. I have heard some colored persons boasting of the white
blood, but I always feel like blushing for mine. Much as my father did
for me he could never atone for giving me life under the conditions he
did."
"Never mind," said Minnie, "it all turned out for the best."
"Yes, Darling," said Louis, growing calmer, "for it gave me you. And
that was life's compensation. But the question of the intermingling of
the races in marriage is one that scarcely interests this question. The
question that presses upon us with the most fearful distinctness is how
can we make life secure in the South. I sometimes feel as if the very
air was busting with bayonets. There is no law here but the revolver.
There must be a screw loose somewhere, and this government that taxes
its men in peace and drafts them in war, ought to be wise enough to know
its citizens and strong enough to protect them."