THE ERA OF ENFRANCHISEMENT
1. _The Problem_
At the close of the Civil War the United States found itself face to
face with one of the gravest social problems of modern times. More and
more it became apparent that it was not only the technical question of
the restoration of the states to the Union that had to be considered,
but the whole adjustment for the future of the lives of three and a half
million Negroes and five and a half million white people in the South.
In its final analysis the question was one of race, and to add to the
difficulties of this problem it is to be regretted that there should
have been actually upon the scene politicians and speculators who sought
to capitalize for their own gain the public distress.
The South was thoroughly demoralized, and the women who had borne the
burden of the war at home were especially bitter. Slave property to the
amount of two billions of dollars had been swept away; several of the
chief cities had suffered bombardment; the railroads had largely run
down; and the confiscation of property was such as to lead to the
indemnification of thousands of claimants afterwards. The Negro was not
yet settled in new places of abode, and his death rate was appalling.
Throughout the first winter after the war the whole South was on the
verge of starvation.
Here undoubtedly was a difficult situation--one calling for the highest
quality of statesmanship, and of sportsmanship on the part of the
vanquished. Many Negroes, freed from the tradition of two hundred and
fifty years of slavery, took a holiday; some resolved not to work any
more as long as they lived, and some even appropriated to their own use
the produce of their neighbors. If they remained on the old plantations,
they feared that they might still be considered slaves; on the other
hand, if they took to the high road, they might be considered vagrants.
If one returned from a Federal camp to claim his wife and children,
he might be driven away. "Freedom cried out," and undoubtedly some
individuals did foolish things; but serious crime was noticeably absent.
On the whole the race bore the blessing of emancipation with remarkable
good sense and temper. Returning soldiers paraded, there were some
meetings and processions, sometimes a little regalia--and even a little
noise; then everybody went home. Unfortunately even so much the white
South regarded as insolence.
The example of how the South _might_ have met the situation was afforded
by no less a man than Robert E. Lee, about whose unselfishness and
standard of conduct as a gentleman there could be no question. One day
in Richmond a Negro from the street, intent on asserting his rights,
entered a representative church, pushed his way to the communion altar
and knelt. The congregation paused, and all fully realized the factors
that entered into the situation. Then General Lee rose and knelt beside
the Negro; the congregation did likewise, and the tension was over.
Furthermore, every one went home spiritually uplifted.
Could the handling of this incident have been multipled a thousand
times--could men have realized that mere accidents are fleeting but
that principles are eternal--both races would have been spared years
of agony, and our Southland would be a far different place to-day. The
Negro was at the heart of the problem, but to that problem the South
undoubtedly held the key. Of course the cry of "social equality" might
have been raised; _anything_ might have been said to keep the right
thing from being done. In this instance, as in many others, the final
question was not what somebody else did, but how one himself could act
most nobly.
Unfortunately Lee's method of approach was not to prevail. Passion and
prejudice and demagoguery were to have their day, and conservative and
broadly patriotic men were to be made to follow leaders whom they could
not possibly approve. Sixty years afterwards we still suffer from the
KuKlux solution of the problem.
2. _Meeting the Problem_
The story of reconstruction has been many times told, and it is not
our intention to tell that story again. We must content ourselves by
touching upon some of the salient points in the discussion.
Even before the close of the war the National Government had undertaken
to handle officially the thousands of Negroes who had crowded to the
Federal lines and not less than a million of whom were in the spring of
1865 dependent upon the National Government for support. The Bureau of
Refugee Freedmen and Abandoned Lands, created in connection with the
War Department by an act of March 3, 1865, was to remain in existence
throughout the war and for one year thereafter. Its powers were enlarged
July 16, 1866, and its chief work did not end until January 1, 1869, its
educational work continuing for a year and a half longer. The Freedmen's
Bureau was to have "the supervision and management of all abandoned
lands, and the control of all subjects relating to refugees and
freedmen." Of special importance was the provision in the creating act
that gave the freedmen to understand that each male refugee was to be
given forty acres with the guarantee of possession for three years.
Throughout the existence of the Bureau its chief commissioner was
General O.O. Howard. While the principal officers were undoubtedly men
of noble purpose, many of the minor officials were just as undoubtedly
corrupt and self-seeking. In the winter of 1865-6 one-third of its aid
was given to the white people of the South. For Negro pupils the Bureau
established altogether 4,239 schools, and these had 9,307 teachers and
247,333 students. Its real achievement has been thus ably summed up:
"The greatest success of the Freedmen's Bureau lay in the planting of
the free school among Negroes, and the idea of free elementary education
among all classes in the South.... For some fifteen million dollars,
beside the sum spent before 1865, and the dole of benevolent societies,
this bureau set going a system of free labor, established a beginning of
peasant proprietorship, secured the recognition of black freedmen before
courts of law, and founded the free common school in the South. On the
other hand, it failed to begin the establishment of good will between
ex-masters and freedmen, to guard its work wholly from paternalistic
methods, which discouraged self-reliance, and to carry out to any
considerable extent its implied promises to furnish the freedmen with
land."[1] To this tale of its shortcomings must be added also the
management of the Freedmen's Bank, which "was morally and practically
part of the Freedmen's Bureau, although it had no legal connection with
it." This institution made a really remarkable start in the development
of thrift among the Negroes, and its failure, involving the loss of the
first savings of hundreds of ex-slaves, was as disastrous in its moral
as in its immediate financial consequences.
[Footnote 1: DuBois: _The Souls of Black Folk_, 32-37.]
When the Freedmen's Bureau came to an end, it turned its educational
interests and some money over to the religious and benevolent societies
which had coöperated with it, especially to the American Missionary
Association. This society had been organized before the Civil War on
an interdenominational and strong anti-slavery basis; but with the
withdrawal of general interest the body passed in 1881 into the hands of
the Congregational Church. Other prominent agencies were the American
Baptist Home Mission Society (also the American Baptist Publication
Society), the Freedmen's Aid Society (representing the Northern
Methodists), and the Presbyterian Board of Missions. Actual work was
begun by the American Missionary Association. In 1861 Lewis Tappan,
treasurer of the organization, wrote to General Butler to ask just
what aid could be given. The result of the correspondence was that on
September 3 of this year Rev. L.C. Lockwood reached Hampton and on
September 17 opened the first day school among the freedmen. This school
was taught by Mrs. Mary S. Peake, a woman of the race who had had the
advantage of a free mother, and whose devotion to the work was such that
she soon died. However, she had helped to lay the foundations of Hampton
Institute. Soon there was a school at Norfolk, there were two at Newport
News, and by January schools at Hilton Head and Beaufort, S.C. Then came
the Emancipation Proclamation, throwing wide open the door of the great
need. Rev. John Eaton, army chaplain from Ohio, afterwards United States
Commissioner of Education, was placed in charge of the instruction of
the Negroes, and in one way or another by the close of the war probably
as many as one million in the South had learned to read and write. The
83 missionaries and teachers of the Association in 1863 increased to 250
in 1864. At the first day session of the school in Norfolk after the
Proclamation there were 350 scholars, with 300 others in the evening.
On the third day there were 550 in the day school and 500 others in the
evening. The school had to be divided, a part going to another church;
the assistants increased in number, and soon the day attendance was
1,200. For such schools the houses on abandoned plantations were used,
and even public buildings were called into commission. Afterwards arose
the higher institutions, Atlanta, Berea, Fisk, Talladega, Straight, with
numerous secondary schools. Similarly the Baptists founded the colleges
which, with some changes of name, have become Virginia Union, Hartshorn,
Shaw, Benedict, Morehouse, Spelman, Jackson, and Bishop, with numerous
affiliated institutions. The Methodists began to operate Clark (in South
Atlanta), Claflin, Rust, Wiley, and others; and the Presbyterians,
having already founded Lincoln in 1854, now founded Biddle and several
seminaries for young women; while the United Presbyterians founded
Knoxville. In course of time the distinctively Negro denominations--the
A.M.E., the A.M.E.Z., and the C.M.E. (which last represented a
withdrawal from the Southern Methodists in 1870)--also helped in
the work, and thus, in addition to Wilberforce in Ohio, arose such
institutions as Morris Brown University, Livingstone College, and Lane
College. In 1867, moreover, the Federal Government crowned its work for
the education of the Negro by the establishment at Washington of Howard
University.
As these institutions have grown they have naturally developed some
differences or special emphasis. Hampton and Atlanta University are
now independent; and Berea has had a peculiar history, legislation in
Kentucky in 1903 restricting the privileges of the institution to white
students. Hampton, in the hands of General Armstrong, placed emphasis on
the idea of industrial and practical education which has since become
world-famous. In 1871 the Fisk Jubilee Singers began their memorable
progress through America and Europe, meeting at first with scorn and
sneers, but before long touching the heart of the world with their
strange music. Their later success was as remarkable as their mission
was unique. Meanwhile Spelman Seminary, in the record of her graduates
who have gone as missionaries to Africa, has also developed a glorious
tradition.
To those heroic men and women who represented this idea of education at
its best, too much credit can not be given. Cravath at Fisk, Ware at
Atlanta, Armstrong at Hampton, Graves at Morehouse, Tupper at Shaw, and
Packard and Giles at Spelman, are names that should ever be recalled
with thanksgiving. These people had no enviable task. They were
ostracized and persecuted, and some of their co-workers even killed. It
is true that their idea of education founded on the New England college
was not very elastic; but their theory was that the young men and women
whom they taught, before they were Negroes, were human beings. They had
the key to the eternal verities, and time will more and more justify
their position.
To the Freedmen's Bureau the South objected because of the political
activity of some of its officials. To the schools founded by missionary
endeavor it objected primarily on the score of social equality. To both
the provisional Southern governments of 1865 replied with the so-called
Black Codes. The theory of these remarkable ordinances--most harsh in
Mississippi, South Carolina, and Louisiana--was that even if the Negro
was nominally free he was by no means able to take care of himself and
needed the tutelage and oversight of the white man. Hence developed what
was to be known as a system of "apprenticeship." South Carolina in her
act of December 21, 1865, said, "A child, over the age of two years,
born of a colored parent, may be bound by the father if he be living in
the district, or in case of his death or absence from the district, by
the mother, as an apprentice to any respectable white or colored person
who is competent to make a contract; a male until he shall attain the
age of twenty-one years, and a female until she shall attain the age of
eighteen.... Males of the age of twelve years, and females of the age
of ten years, shall sign the indenture of apprenticeship, and be bound
thereby.... The master shall receive to his own use the profits of the
labor of his apprentice." To this Mississippi added: "If any apprentice
shall leave the employment of his or her master or mistress, said master
or mistress may pursue and recapture said apprentice, and bring him or
her before any justice of peace of the county, whose duty it shall be to
remand said apprentice to the service of his or her master or mistress;
and in the event of a refusal on the part of said apprentice so to
return, then said justice shall commit said apprentice to the jail of
said county," etc., etc. In general by such legislation the Negro was
given the right to sue and be sued, to testify in court concerning
Negroes, and to have marriage and the responsibility for children
recognized. On the other hand, he could not serve on juries, could
not serve in the militia, and could not vote or hold office. He was
virtually forbidden to assemble, and his freedom of movement was
restricted. Within recent years the Black Codes have been more than once
defended as an honest effort to meet a difficult situation, but the old
slavery attitude peered through them and gave the impression that those
who framed them did not yet know that the old order had passed away.
Meanwhile the South was in a state of panic, and the provisional
governor of Mississippi asked of President Johnson permission to
organize the local militia. The request was granted and the patrols
immediately began to show their hostility to Northern people and the
freedmen. In the spring of 1866 there was a serious race riot in
Memphis. On July 30, while some Negroes were marching to a political
convention in New Orleans, they became engaged in brawls with the
white spectators. Shots were exchanged; the police, assisted by the
spectators, undertook to arrest the Negroes; the Negroes took refuge in
the convention hall; and their pursuers stormed the building and shot
down without mercy the Negroes and their white supporters. Altogether
not less than forty were killed and not less than one hundred wounded;
but not more than a dozen men were killed on the side of the police and
the white citizens. General Sheridan, who was in command at New Orleans,
characterized the affair as "an absolute massacre ... a murder which
the mayor and police of the city perpetrated without the shadow of a
necessity."
In the face of such events and tendencies, and influenced to some extent
by a careful and illuminating but much criticized report of Carl Schurz,
Congress, led by Charles Sumner and Thaddeus Stevens, proceeded to pass
legislation designed to protect the freedmen and to guarantee to
the country the fruits of the war. The Thirteenth Amendment to the
Constitution formally abolishing slavery was passed December 18, 1865.
In the following March Congress passed over the President's veto the
first Civil Rights Bill, guaranteeing to the freedmen all the ordinary
rights of citizenship, and it was about the same time that it enlarged
the powers of the Freedmen's Bureau. The Fourteenth Amendment (July
28, 1868) denied to the states the power to abridge the privileges or
immunities of citizens of the United States; and the Fifteenth Amendment
(March 30, 1870) sought to protect the Negro by giving to him the right
of suffrage instead of military protection. In 1875 was passed the
second Civil Rights act, designed to give Negroes equality of treatment
in theaters, railway cars, hotels, etc.; but this the Supreme Court
declared unconstitutional in 1883.
As a result of this legislation the Negro was placed in positions of
responsibility; within the next few years the race sent two senators
and thirteen representatives to Congress, and in some of the state
legislatures, as in South Carolina, Negroes were decidedly in the
majority. The attainments of some of these men were undoubtedly
remarkable; the two United States senators, Hiram R. Revels and Blanche
K. Bruce, both from Mississippi, were of unquestioned intelligence and
ability, and Robert B. Elliott, one of the representatives from South
Carolina, attracted unusual attention by his speech in reply to
Alexander Stephens on the constitutionality of the Civil Rights bill. At
the same time among the Negro legislators there was also considerable
ignorance, and there set in an era of extravagance and corruption from
which the "carpet-baggers" and the "scalawags" rather than the Negroes
themselves reaped the benefit. Accordingly within recent years it has
become more and more the fashion to lament the ills of the period, and
no representative American historian can now write of reconstruction
without a tone of apology. A few points, however, are to be observed.
In the first place the ignorance was by no means so vast as has been
supposed. Within the four years from 1861 to 1865, thanks to the army
schools and missionary agencies, not less than half a million Negroes in
the South had learned to read and write. Furthermore, the suffrage was
not immediately given to the emancipated Negroes; this was the
last rather than the first step in reconstruction. The provisional
legislatures formed at the close of the war were composed of white men
only; but the experiment failed because of the short-sighted laws that
were enacted. If the fruit of the Civil War was not to be lost, if all
the sacrifice was not to prove in vain, it became necessary for Congress
to see that the overthrow of slavery was final and complete. By the
Fourteenth Amendment the Negro was invested with the ordinary rights and
dignity of a citizen of the United States. He was not enfranchised, but
he could no longer be made the victim of state laws designed merely to
keep him in servile subjection. If the Southern states had accepted
this amendment, they might undoubtedly have reëntered the Union without
further conditions. They refused to do so; they refused to help the
National Government in any way whatsoever in its effort to guarantee
to the Negro the rights of manhood. Achilles sulked in his tent, and
whenever he sulks the world moves on--without him. The alternative
finally presented to Congress, if it was not to make an absolute
surrender, was either to hold the South indefinitely under military
subjection or to place the ballot in the hands of the Negro. The former
course was impossible; the latter was chosen, and the Union was really
restored--was really saved--by the force of the ballot in the hands of
black men.
It has been held that the Negro was primarily to blame for the
corruption of the day. Here again it is well to recall the tendencies of
the period. The decade succeeding the war was throughout the country
one of unparalleled political corruption. The Tweed ring, the Crédit
Mobilier, and the "salary grab" were only some of the more outstanding
signs of the times. In the South the Negroes were not the real leaders
in corruption; they simply followed the men who they supposed were their
friends. Surely in the face of such facts as these it is not just to fix
upon a people groping to the light the peculiar odium of the corruption
that followed in the wake of the war.
And we shall have to leave it to those better informed than we to say to
just what extent city and state politics in the South have been cleaned
up since the Negro ceased to be a factor. Many of the constitutions
framed by the reconstruction governments were really excellent models,
and the fact that they were overthrown seems to indicate that some other
spoilsmen were abroad. Take North Carolina, for example. In this state
in 1868 the reconstruction government by its new constitution introduced
the township system so favorably known in the North and West. When in
1875 the South regained control, with all the corruption it found as
excellent a form of republican state government as was to be found in
any state in the Union. "Every provision which any state enjoyed for the
protection of public society from its bad members and bad impulses was
either provided or easily procurable under the Constitution of the
state."[1] Yet within a year, in order to annul the power of their
opponents in every county in the state, the new party so amended
the Constitution as to take away from every county the power of
self-government and centralize everything in the legislature. Now was
realized an extent of power over elections and election returns so
great that no party could wholly clear itself of the idea of corrupt
intentions.
[Footnote 1: George W. Cable: _The Southern Struggle for Pure
Government_: An Address. Boston, 1890, included in _The Negro Question_,
New York, 1890.]
At the heart of the whole question of course was race. As a matter of
fact much work of genuine statesmanship was accomplished or attempted by
the reconstruction governments. For one thing the idea of common school
education for all people was now for the first time fully impressed upon
the South. The Charleston _News and Courier_ of July 11, 1876, formally
granted that in the administration of Governor Chamberlain of South
Carolina the abuse of the pardoning power had been corrected; the
character of the officers appointed by the Executive had improved; the
floating indebtedness of the state had been provided for in such a way
that the rejection of fraudulent claims was assured and that valid
claims were scaled one-half; the tax laws had been so amended as to
secure substantial equality in the assessment of property; taxes had
been reduced to eleven mills on the dollar; the contingent fund of
the executive department had been reduced at a saving in two years of
$101,200; legislative expenses had also been reduced so as to save
in two years $350,000; legislative contingent expenses had also been
handled so as to save $355,000; and the public printing reduced from
$300,000 to $50,000 a year. There were, undoubtedly, at first, many
corrupt officials, white and black. Before they were through, however,
after only a few years of experimenting, the reconstruction governments
began to show signs of being quite able to handle the situation; and it
seems to have been primarily the fear on the part of the white South
_that they might not fail_ that prompted the determination to regain
power at whatever cost. Just how this was done we are now to see.
3. _Reaction: The KuKlux Klan_
Even before the Civil War a secret organization, the Knights of the
Golden Circle, had been formed to advance Southern interests. After the
war there were various organizations--Men of Justice, Home Guards, Pale
Faces, White Brotherhood, White Boys, Council of Safety, etc., and, with
headquarters at New Orleans, the thoroughly organized Knights of the
White Camelia. All of these had for their general aim the restoration
of power to the white men of the South, which aim they endeavored to
accomplish by regulating the conduct of the Negroes and their leaders
in the Republican organization, the Union League, especially by playing
upon the fears and superstitions of the Negroes. In general, especially
in the Southeast, everything else was surpassed or superseded by the
KuKlux Klan, which originated in Tennessee in the fall of 1865 as an
association of young men for amusement, but which soon developed into a
union for the purpose of whipping, banishing, terrorizing, and murdering
Negroes and Northern white men who encouraged them in the exercise of
their political rights. No Republican, no member of the Union League,
and no G.A.R. man could become a member. The costume of the Klan
was especially designed to strike terror in the uneducated Negroes.
Loose-flowing sleeves, hoods in which were apertures for the eyes, nose,
and mouth trimmed with red material, horns made of cotton-stuff standing
out on the front and sides, high cardboard hats covered with white
cloth decorated with stars or pictures of animals, long tongues of red
flannel, were all used as occasion demanded. The KuKlux Klan finally
extended over the whole South and greatly increased its operations on
the cessation of martial law in 1870. As it worked generally at night,
with its members in disguise, it was difficult for a grand jury to get
evidence on which to frame a bill, and almost impossible to get a jury
that would return a verdict for the state. Repeated measures against
the order were of little effect until an act of 1870 extended the
jurisdiction of the United States courts to all KuKlux cases. Even then
for some time the organization continued active.
Naturally there were serious clashes before government was restored to
the white South, especially as the KuKlux Klan grew bolder. At Colfax,
Grant Parish, Louisiana, in April, 1873, there was a pitched battle in
which several white men and more than fifty Negroes were killed; and
violence increased as the "red shirt" campaign of 1876 approached.
In connection with the events of this fateful year, and with reference
to South Carolina, where the Negro seemed most solidly in power, we
recall one episode, that of the Hamburg Massacre. We desire to give this
as fully as possible in all its incidents, because we know of nothing
that better illustrates the temper of the times, and because a most
important matter is regularly ignored or minimized by historians.[1]
[Footnote 1: Fleming, in his latest and most mature account of
reconstruction, _The Sequel of Appomattox_, has not one word to say
about the matter. Dunning, in _Reconstruction Political and Economic_
(306), speaks as follows: "July 6, 1876, an armed collision between
whites and blacks at Hamburg, Aiken County, resulted in the usual
slaughter of the blacks. Whether the original cause of the trouble
was the insolence and threats of a Negro militia company, or the
aggressiveness and violence of some young white men, was much discussed
throughout the state, and, indeed, the country at large. Chamberlain
took frankly and strongly the ground that the whites were at fault."
Such a statement we believe simply does not do justice to the facts.
The account given herewith is based upon the report of the matter in a
letter published in a Washington paper and submitted in connection with
the debate in the United States House of Representatives, July 15th and
18th, 1876, on the Massacre of Six Colored Citizens at Hamburg, S.C.,
July 4, 1876; and on "An Address to the People of the United States,
adopted at a Conference of Colored Citizens, held at Columbia, S.C.,
July 20th and 21st, 1876" (Republican Printing Co., Columbia, S.C.,
1876). The Address, a document most important for the Negro's side of
the story, was signed by no less than sixty representative men, among
them R.B. Elliott, R.H. Gleaves, F.L. Cardozo, D.A. Straker, T. McC.
Stewart, and H.N. Bouey.]
In South Carolina an act providing for the enrollment of the male
citizens of the state, who were by the terms of the said act made
subject to the performance of militia duty, was passed by the General
Assembly and approved by the Governor March 16, 1869. By virtue of this
act Negro citizens were regularly enrolled as a part of the National
Guard of the State of South Carolina, and as the white men, with very
few exceptions, failed or refused to become a part of the said force,
the active militia was composed almost wholly of Negro men. The County
of Edgefield, of which Hamburg was a part, was one of the military
districts of the state under the apportionment of the Adjutant-General,
one regiment being allotted to the district. One company of this
regiment was in Hamburg. In 1876 it had recently been reorganized with
Doc Adams as captain, Lewis Cartledge as first lieutenant, and A.T.
Attaway as second lieutenant. The ranks were recruited to the requisite
number of men, to whom arms and equipment were duly issued.
On Tuesday, July 4, the militia company assembled for drill and while
thus engaged paraded through one of the least frequented streets of the
town. This street was unusually wide, but while marching four abreast
the men were interrupted by a horse and buggy driven _into their ranks_
by Thomas Butler and Henry Getzen, white men who resided about two
miles from the town. At the time of this interference the company was
occupying a space covering a width of not more than eight feet, so that
on either side there was abundant room for vehicles. At the interruption
Captain Adams commanded a halt and, stepping to the head of his column,
said, "Mr. Getzen, I did not think that you would treat me this way; I
would not so act towards you." To this Getzen replied with curses,
and after a few more remarks on either side, Adams, in order to avoid
further trouble, commanded his men to break ranks and permit the buggy
to pass through. The company was then marched to the drill rooms and
dismissed.
On Wednesday, July 5, Robert J. Butler, father of Thomas Butler and
father-in-law of Getzen, appeared before P.R. Rivers, colored trial
justice, and made complaint that the militia company had on the previous
day obstructed one of the public streets of Hamburg and prevented his
son and son-in-law from passing through. Rivers accordingly issued a
summons for the officers to appear the next day, July 6. When Adams and
his two lieutenants appeared on Thursday, they found present Robert J.
Butler and several other white men heavily armed with revolvers. On the
calling of the case it was announced that the defendants were present
and that Henry Sparnick, a member of the circuit bar of the county, had
been retained to represent them. Butler angrily protested against such
representation and demanded that the hearing be postponed until he
could procure counsel from the city of Augusta; whereupon Adams and his
lieutenants, after consultation with their attorney, who informed them
that there were no legal grounds on which the case could be decided
against them, waived their constitutional right to be represented by
counsel and consented to go to trial. On this basis the case was opened
and proceeded with for some time, when on account of some disturbance
its progress was arrested, and it was adjourned for further hearing on
the following Saturday, July 8, at four o'clock in the afternoon.
On Saturday, between two and three o'clock, General M.C. Butler, of
Edgefield, formerly an officer in the Confederate army, arrived in
Hamburg, and he was followed by mounted men in squads of ten or fifteen
until the number was more than two hundred, the last to arrive being
Colonel A.P. Butler at the head of threescore men. Immediately after his
arrival General Butler sent for Attorney Sparnick, who was charged with
the request to Rivers and the officers of the militia company to confer
with him at once. There was more passing of messengers back and forth,
and it was at length deemed best for the men to confer with Butler. To
this two of the officers objected on the ground that the whole plan was
nothing more than a plot for their assassination. They sent to ask if
General Butler would meet them without the presence of his armed force.
He replied Yes, but before arrangements could be made for the interview
another messenger came to say that the hour for the trial had arrived,
that General Butler was at the court, and that he requested the presence
of the trial justice, Rivers. Rivers proceeded to court alone and found
Butler there waiting for him. He was about to proceed with the case when
Butler asked for more time, which request was granted. He went away and
never returned to the court. Instead he went to the council chamber,
being surrounded now by greater and greater numbers of armed men, and he
sent a committee to the officers asking that they come to the council
chamber to see him. The men again declined for the same reason as
before. Butler now sent an ultimatum demanding that the officers
apologize for what took place on July 4 and that they surrender to him
their arms, threatening that if the surrender was not made at once he
would take their guns and officers by force. Adams and his men now awoke
to a full sense of their danger, and they asked Rivers, who was not only
trial justice but also Major General of the division of the militia to
which they belonged, if he demanded their arms of them. Rivers replied
that he did not. Thereupon the officers refused the request of Butler on
the ground that he had no legal right to demand their arms or to receive
them if surrendered. At this point Butler let it be known that he
demanded the surrender of the arms within half an hour and that if he
did not receive them he would "lay the d---- town in ashes." Asked in an
interview whether, if his terms were complied with, he would guarantee
protection to the people of the town he answered that he did not know
and that that would depend altogether upon how they behaved themselves.
Butler now went with a companion to Augusta, returning in about thirty
minutes. A committee called upon him as soon as he got back. He had only
to say that he demanded the arms immediately. Asked if he would accept
the boxing up of the arms and the sending of them to the Governor, he
said, "D---- the Governor. I am not here to consult him, but am here as
Colonel Butler, and this won't stop until after November." Asked again
if he would guarantee general protection if the arms were surrendered,
he said, "I guarantee nothing."
All the while scores of mounted men were about the streets. Such members
of the militia company as were in town and their friends to the number
of thirty-eight repaired to their armory--a large brick building
about two hundred yards from the river--and barricaded themselves for
protection. Firing upon the armory was begun by the mounted men, and
after half an hour there were occasional shots from within. After a
while the men in the building heard an order to bring cannon from
Augusta, and they began to leave the building from the rear, concealing
themselves as well as they could in a cornfield. The cannon was brought
and discharged three or four times, those firing it not knowing that the
building had been evacuated. When they realized their mistake they made
a general search through lots and yards for the members of the company
and finally captured twenty-seven of them, after two had been killed.
The men, none of whom now had arms, were marched to a place near the
railroad station, where the sergeant of the company was ordered to call
the roll. Allan T. Attaway, whose name was first, was called out
and shot in cold blood. Twelve men fired upon him and he was killed
instantly. The men whose names were second, third, and fourth on the
list were called out and treated likewise. The fifth man made a dash for
liberty and escaped with a slight wound in the leg. All the others were
then required to hold up their right hands and swear that they would
never bear arms against the white people or give in court any testimony
whatsoever regarding the occurrence. They were then marched off two by
two and dispersed, but stray shots were fired after them as they went
away. In another portion of the town the chief of police, James Cook,
was taken from his home and brutally murdered. A marshal of the town was
shot through the body and mortally wounded. One of the men killed was
found with his tongue cut out. The members of Butler's party finally
entered the homes of most of the prominent Negroes in the town, smashed
the furniture, tore books to pieces, and cut pictures from their frames,
all amid the most heartrending distress on the part of the women and
children. That night the town was desolate, for all who could do so fled
to Aiken or Columbia.
Upon all of which our only comment is that while such a process might
seem for a time to give the white man power, it makes no progress
whatever toward the ultimate solution of the problem.
4. _Counter-Reaction: The Negro Exodus_
The Negro Exodus of 1879 was partially considered in connection with our
study of Liberia; but a few facts are in place here.
After the withdrawal of Federal troops conditions in the South were
changed so much that, especially in South Carolina, Mississippi,
Louisiana, and Texas, the state of affairs was no longer tolerable.
Between 1866 and 1879 more than three thousand Negroes were summarily
killed.[1] The race began to feel that a new slavery in the horrible
form of peonage was approaching, and that the disposition of the men in
power was to reduce the laborer to the minimum of advantages as a free
man and to none at all as a citizen. The fear, which soon developed into
a panic, rose especially in consequence of the work of political mobs
in 1874 and 1875, and it soon developed organization. About this the
outstanding fact was that the political leaders of the last few years
were regularly distrusted and ignored, the movement being secret in its
origin and committed either to the plantation laborers themselves or
their direct representatives. In North Carolina circulars about Nebraska
were distributed. In Tennessee Benjamin ("Pap") Singleton began about
1869 to induce Negroes to go to Kansas, and he really founded two
colonies with a total of 7432 Negroes from his state, paying of his own
money over $600 for circulars. In Louisiana alone 70,000 names were
taken of those who wished to better their condition by removal; and by
1878 98,000 persons in Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Texas were
ready to go elsewhere. A convention to consider the whole matter of
migration was held in Nashville in 1879. At this the politician managed
to put in an appearance and there was much wordy discussion. At the same
time much of the difference of opinion was honest; the meeting was
on the whole constructive; and it expressed itself as favorable to
"reasonable migration." Already, however, thousands of Negroes were
leaving their homes in the South and going in greatest numbers to
Kansas, Missouri, and Indiana. Within twenty months Kansas alone
received in this way an addition to her population of 40,000 persons.
Many of these people arrived at their destination practically penniless
and without prospect of immediate employment; but help was afforded by
relief agencies in the North, and they themselves showed remarkable
sturdiness in adapting themselves to the new conditions.
[Footnote 1: Emmett J. Scott: Negro Migration during the War (in
Preliminary Economic Studies of the War--Carnegie Endowment for
International Peace: Division of Economics and History). Oxford
University Press, American Branch, New York, 1920.]
Many of the stories that the Negroes told were pathetic.[1] Sometimes
boats would not take them on, and they suffered from long exposure on
the river banks. Sometimes, while they were thus waiting, agents of
their own people employed by the planters tried to induce them to
remain. Frequently they were clubbed or whipped. Said one: "I saw nine
put in one pile, that had been killed, and the colored people had to
bury them; eight others were found killed in the woods.... It is done
this way: they arrest them for breach of contract and carry them to
jail. Their money is taken from them by the jailer and it is not
returned when they are let go." Said another: "If a colored man stays
away from the polls and does not vote, they spot him and make him vote.
If he votes their way, they treat him no better in business. They hire
the colored people to vote, and then take their pay away. I know a
man to whom they gave a cow and a calf for voting their ticket. After
election they came and told him that if he kept the cow he must pay for
it; and they took the cow and calf away." Another: "One man shook his
fist in my face and said, 'D---- you, sir, you are my property.' He said
that I owed him. He could not show it and then said, 'You sha'n't go
anyhow.' All we want is a living chance." Another: "There is a general
talk among the whites and colored people that Jeff Davis will run for
president of the Southern states, and the colored people are afraid they
will be made slaves again. They are already trying to prevent them from
going from one plantation to another without a pass." Another: "The
deputy sheriff came and took away from me a pair of mules. He had a
constable and twenty-five men with guns to back him." Another: "Last
year, after settling with my landlord, my share was four bales of
cotton. I shipped it to Richardson and May, 38 and 40 Perdido Street,
New Orleans, through W.E. Ringo & Co., merchants, at Mound Landing,
Miss. I lived four miles back of this landing. I received from Ringo a
ticket showing that my cotton was sold at nine and three-eighths cents,
but I could never get a settlement. He kept putting me off by saying
that the bill of lading had not come. Those bales averaged over four
hundred pounds. I did not owe him over twenty-five dollars. A man may
work there from Monday morning to Saturday night, and be as economical
as he pleases, and he will come out in debt. I am a close man, and I
work hard. I want to be honest in getting through the world. I came away
and left a crop of corn and cotton growing up. I left it because I did
not want to work twelve months for nothing. I have been trying it for
fifteen years, thinking every year that it would get better, and it gets
worse." Said still another: "I learned about Kansas from the newspapers
that I got hold of. They were Southern papers. I got a map, and found
out where Kansas was; and I got a History of the United States, and read
about it."
[Footnote 1: See _Negro Exodus_ (Report of Colonel Frank H. Fletcher).]
Query: Was it genuine statesmanship that permitted these people to feel
that they must leave the South?
* * * * *
5. _A Postscript on the War and Reconstruction_
Of all of the stories of these epoch-making years we have chosen one--an
idyl of a woman with an alabaster box, of one who had a clear conception
of the human problem presented and who gave her life in the endeavor to
meet it.
In the fall of 1862 a young woman who was destined to be a great
missionary entered the Seminary at Rockford, Illinois. There was little
to distinguish her from the other students except that she was very
plainly dressed and seemed forced to spend most of her spare time at
work. Yes, there was one other difference. She was older than most of
the girls--already thirty, and rich in experience. When not yet fifteen
she had taught a country school in Pennsylvania. At twenty she was
considered capable of managing an unusually turbulent crowd of boys and
girls. When she was twenty-seven her father died, leaving upon her very
largely the care of her mother. At twenty-eight she already looked back
upon fourteen years as a teacher, upon some work for Christ incidentally
accomplished, but also upon a fading youth of wasted hopes and
unfulfilled desires.
Then came a great decision--not the first, not the last, but one of the
most important that marked her long career. Her education was by no
means complete, and, at whatever cost, she would go to school. That she
had no money, that her clothes were shabby, that her mother needed her,
made no difference; now or never she would realize her ambition. She
would do anything, however menial, if it was honest and would give her
food while she continued her studies. For one long day she walked the
streets of Belvidere looking for a home. Could any one use a young woman
who wanted to work for her board? Always the same reply. Nightfall
brought her to a farmhouse in the suburbs of the town. She timidly
knocked on the door. "No, we do not need any one," said the woman who
greeted her, "but wait until I see my husband." The man of the house
was very unwilling, but decided to give shelter for the night. The
next morning he thought differently about the matter, and a few days
afterwards the young woman entered school. The work was hard; fires
had to be made, breakfasts on cold mornings had to be prepared, and
sometimes the washing was heavy. Naturally the time for lessons was
frequently cut short or extended far into the night. But the woman of
the house was kind, and her daughter a helpful fellow-student.
The next summer came another season at school-teaching, and then the
term at Rockford. 1862! a great year that in American history, one more
famous for the defeat of the Union arms than for their success. But in
September came Antietam, and the heart of the North took courage. Then
with the new year came the Emancipation Proclamation.
The girls at Rockford, like the people everywhere, were interested
in the tremendous events that were shaking the nation. A new note of
seriousness crept into their work. Embroidery was laid aside; instead,
socks were knit and bandages prepared. On the night of January 1 a
jubilee meeting was held in the town.
To Joanna P. Moore, however, the news of freedom brought a strange
undertone of sadness. She could not help thinking of the spiritual and
intellectual condition of the millions now emancipated. Strange that she
should be possessed by this problem! She had thought of work in China,
or India, or even in Africa--but of this, never!
In February a man who had been on Island No. 10 came to the Seminary and
told the girls of the distress of the women and children there. Cabins
and tents were everywhere. As many as three families, with eight or
ten children each, cooked their food in the same pot on the same fire.
Sometimes the women were peevish or quarrelsome; always the children
were dirty. "What can a man do to help such a suffering mass of
humanity?" asked the speaker. "Nothing. A woman is needed; nobody else
will do." For the student listening so intently the cheery schoolrooms
with their sweet associations faded; the vision of foreign missions also
vanished; and in their stead stood only a pitiful black woman with a
baby in her arms.
She reached Island No. 10 in November. The outlook was dismal enough.
The Sunday school at Belvidere had pledged four dollars a month toward
her support, and this was all the money in sight, though the Government
provided transportation and soldiers' rations. That was in 1863, sixty
years ago; but every year since then, until 1916, in summer and winter,
in sunshine and rain, in the home and the church, with teaching and
praying, feeding and clothing, nursing and hoping and loving, Joanna P.
Moore in one way or another ministered to the Negro people of the South.
In April, 1864, her whole colony was removed to Helena, Arkansas. The
Home Farm was three miles from Helena. Here was gathered a great crowd
of women and children and helpless old men, all under the guard of a
company of soldiers in a fort nearby. Thither went the missionary alone,
except for her faith in God. She made an arbor with some rude seats,
nailed a blackboard to a tree, divided the people into four groups,
and began to teach school. In the twilight every evening a great crowd
gathered around her cabin for prayers. A verse of the Bible was read and
explained, petitions were offered, one of the sorrow-songs was chanted,
and then the service was over.
Some Quaker workers were her friends in Helena, and in 1868 she went to
Lauderdale, Mississippi, to help the Friends in an orphan asylum. Six
weeks after her arrival the superintendent's daughter died, and the
parents left to take their child back to their Indiana home to rest. The
lone woman was left in charge of the asylum. Cholera broke out. Eleven
children died within one week. Still she stood by her post. Often, she
said, those who were well and happy when they retired, ere daylight came
were in the grave, for they were buried the same hour they died. Night
after night she prayed to God in the dark, and at length the fury of the
plague was abated.
From time to time the failing health of her mother called her home, and
from 1870 to 1873 she once more taught school near Belvidere. The first
winter the school was in the country. "You can never have a Sunday
school in the winter," they told her. But she did; in spite of the snow,
the house was crowded every Sunday, whole families coming in sleighs.
Even at that the real work of the teacher was with the Negroes of the
South. In her prayers and public addresses they were always with her,
and in 1873 friends in Chicago made it possible for her to return to the
work of her choice. In 1877 the Woman's Baptist Home Mission Society
honored itself by giving to her its first commission.
Nine years she spent in the vicinity of New Orleans. Near Leland
University she found a small, one-room house. After buying a bed, a
table, two chairs, and a few cooking utensils, she began housekeeping.
Often she started out at six in the morning, not to return until
dark. Most frequently she read the Bible to those who could not read.
Sometimes she gave cheer to mothers busy over the washtub. Sometimes
she would teach the children to read or to sew. Often she would write
letters for those who had been separated from friends or kindred in the
dark days. She wrote hundreds and hundreds of such letters; and once in
a while, a very long while, came a response.
Most pitiful of all the objects she found in New Orleans were the old
women worn out with years of slavery. They were usually rag-pickers who
ate at night the scraps for which they had begged during the day. There
was in the city an Old Ladies' Home; but this was not for Negroes.
A house was secured and the women taken in, Joanna Moore and her
associates moving into the second story. Sometimes, very often, there
was real need; but sometimes, too, provisions came when it was not known
who sent them; money or boxes came from Northern friends who had never
seen the workers; and the little Negro children in the Sunday schools in
the city gave their pennies.
In 1878 the laborer in the Southwest started on a journey of
exploration. In Atlanta Dr. Robert at Atlanta Baptist Seminary (now
Morehouse College) gave her cheer; so did President Ware at Atlanta
University. At Benedict in Columbia she saw Dr. Goodspeed, President
Tupper at Shaw in Raleigh, and Dr. Corey in Richmond. In May she
appeared at the Baptist anniversaries, with fifteen years of missionary
achievement already behind her.
But each year brought its own sorrows and disappointments. She wanted
the Society to establish a training school for women; but to this
objection was raised. In Louisiana also it was not without danger that a
white woman attended a Negro association in 1877; and there were always
sneers and jeers. At length, however, a training school for mothers was
opened in Baton Rouge. All went well for two years; and then a notice
with skull and crossbones was placed on the gate. The woman who had
worked through the cholera still stood firm; but the students had gone.
Sick at heart and worn out with waiting, she at last left Baton Rouge
and the state in which so many of her best years had been spent.
"Bible Band" work was started in 1884, and _Hope_ in 1885. The little
paper, beginning with a circulation of five hundred, has now reached a
monthly issue of twenty thousand copies, and daily it brings its
lesson of cheer to thousands of mothers and children in the South. In
connection with it all has developed the Fireside School, than which few
agencies have been more potent in the salvation and uplift of the humble
Negro home.
What wisdom was gathered from the passing of fourscore years! On almost
every page of her tracts, her letters, her account of her life, one
finds quotations of proverbial pith:
The love of God gave me courage for myself and the rest of mankind;
therefore I concluded to invest in human souls. They surely are worth
more than anything else in the world.
Beloved friends, be hopeful, be courageous. God can not use discouraged
people.
The good news spread, not by telling what we were going to do but by
praising God for what had been done.
So much singing in all our churches leaves too little time for the Bible
lesson. Do not misunderstand me. I do love music that impresses the
meaning of words. But no one climbs to heaven on musical scales.
I thoroughly believe that the only way to succeed with any vocation is
to make it a part of your very self and weave it into your every thought
and prayer.
You must love before you can comfort and help.
There is no place too lowly or dark for our feet to enter, and no place
so high and bright but it needs the touch of the light that we carry
from the Cross.
How shall we measure such a life? Who can weigh love and hope and
service, and the joy of answered prayer? "An annual report of what?" she
once asked the secretary of her organization. "Report of tears shed,
prayers offered, smiles scattered, lessons taught, steps taken, cheering
words, warning words--tender, patient words for the little ones, stern
but loving tones for the wayward--songs of hope and songs of sorrow,
wounded hearts healed, light and love poured into dark sad homes? Oh,
Miss Burdette, you might as well ask me to gather up the raindrops of
last year or the petals that fall from the flowers that bloomed. It is
true that I can send you a little stagnant water from the cistern, and a
few dried flowers; but if you want to know the freshness, the sweetness,
the glory, the grandeur, of our God-given work, then you must come
and keep step with us from early morn to night for three hundred and
sixty-five days in the year."
Until the very last she was on the roll of the active workers of the
Woman's American Baptist Home Mission Society. In the fall of 1915 she
decided that she must once more see the schools in the South that meant
so much to her. In December she came again to her beloved Spelman. While
in Atlanta she met with an accident that still further weakened her.
After a few weeks, however, she went on to Jacksonville, and then to
Selma. There she passed.
* * * * *
When the Son of Man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels
with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory.... Then shall
the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungered,
and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a
stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee? Or when saw we
thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? And the King shall answer
and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it
unto one of the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me.