HARRY LEROY.
It was several weeks after Iola had written to her brother that her
letter reached him. The trusty servant to whom she delivered it watched
his opportunity to mail it. At last he succeeded in slipping it into
Lorraine's mail and dropping them all into the post office together.
Harry was studying at a boys' academy in Maine. His father had given
that State the preference because, while on a visit there, he had been
favorably impressed with the kindness and hospitality of the people. He
had sent his son a large sum of money, and given him permission to spend
awhile with some school-chums till he was ready to bring the family
North, where they could all spend the summer together. Harry had
returned from his visit, and was looking for letters and remittances
from home, when a letter, all crumpled, was handed him by the principal
of the academy. He recognized his sister's handwriting and eagerly
opened the letter. As he read, he turned very pale; then a deep flush
overspread his face and an angry light flashed from his eyes. As he read
on, his face became still paler; he gasped for breath and fell into a
swoon. Appalled at the sudden change which had swept over him like a
deadly sirocco, the principal rushed to the fallen boy, picked up the
missive that lay beside him, and immediately rang for help and
dispatched for the doctor. The doctor came at once and was greatly
puzzled. Less than an hour before, he had seen him with a crowd of
merry, laughter-loving boys, apparently as light-hearted and joyous as
any of them; now he lay with features drawn and pinched, his face deadly
pale, as if some terrible suffering had sent all the blood in his veins
to stagnate around his heart. Harry opened his eyes, shuddered, and
relapsed into silence. The doctor, all at sea in regard to the cause of
the sudden attack, did all that he could to restore him to consciousness
and quiet the perturbation of his spirit. He succeeded, but found he was
strangely silent. A terrible shock had sent a tremor through every
nerve, and the doctor watched with painful apprehension its effect upon
his reason. Giving him an opiate and enjoining that he should be kept
perfectly quiet, the doctor left the room, sought the principal, and
said:--
"Mr. Bascom, here is a case that baffles my skill. I saw that boy pass
by my window not more than half an hour ago, full of animation, and now
he lies hovering between life and death. I have great apprehension for
his reason. Can you throw any light on the subject?"
Mr. Bascom hesitated.
"I am not asking you as a matter of idle curiosity, but as a physician.
I must have all the light I can get in making my diagnosis of the case."
The principal arose, went to his desk, took out the letter which he had
picked up from the floor, and laid it in the physician's hand. As the
doctor read, a look of indignant horror swept over his face. Then he
said: "Can it be possible! I never suspected such a thing. It must be a
cruel, senseless hoax."
"Doctor," said Mr. Bascom, "I have been a life-long Abolitionist and
have often read of the cruelties and crimes of American slavery, but
never before did I realize the low moral tone of the social life under
which such shameless cruelties could be practiced on a defenseless widow
and her orphaned children. Let me read the letter again. Just look at
it, all tear-blotted and written with a trembling hand:--
'DEAR BROTHER:--I have dreadful news for you and I hardly know how
to tell it. Papa and Gracie are both dead. He died of yellow fever.
Mamma is almost distracted. Papa's cousin has taken possession of
our property, and instead of heirs we are chattels. Mamma has
explained the whole situation to me. She was papa's slave before she
married. He loved her, manumitted, educated, and married her. When
he died Mr. Lorraine entered suit for his property and Judge
Starkins has decided in his favor. The decree of the court has made
their marriage invalid, robbed us of our inheritance, and remanded
us all to slavery. Mamma is too wretched to attempt to write
herself, but told me to entreat you not to attempt to come home. You
can do us no good, and that mean, cruel Lorraine may do you much
harm. Don't attempt, I beseech you, to come home. Show this letter
to Mr. Bascom and let him advise you what to do. But don't, for our
sake, attempt to come home.
'Your heart-broken sister,
'IOLA LEROY.'"
"This," said the doctor, "is a very awkward affair. The boy is too ill
to be removed. It is doubtful if the nerves which have trembled with
such fearful excitement will ever recover their normal condition. It is
simply a work of mercy to watch over him with the tenderest care."
Fortunately for Harry he had fallen into good hands, and the most tender
care and nursing were bestowed upon him. For awhile Harry was strangely
silent, never referring to the terrible misfortune which had so suddenly
overshadowed his life. It seemed as if the past were suddenly blotted
out of his memory. But he was young and of an excellent constitution,
and in a few months he was slowly recovering.
"Doctor," said he one day, as the physician sat at his bedside, "I seem
to have had a dreadful dream, and to have dreamt that my father was
dead, and my mother and sister were in terrible trouble, but I could not
help them. Doctor, was it a dream, or was it a reality? It could not
have been a dream, for when I fell asleep the grass was green and the
birds were singing, but now the winds are howling and the frost is on
the ground. Doctor, tell me how it is? How long have I been here?"
Sitting by his bedside, and taking his emaciated hand in his, the doctor
said, in a kind, fatherly tone: "My dear boy, you have been very ill,
and everything depends on your keeping quiet, very quiet."
As soon as he was strong enough the principal gave him his letter to
read.
"But, Mr. Bascom," Harry said, "I do not understand this. It says my
mother and father were legally married. How could her marriage be set
aside and her children robbed of their inheritance? This is not a
heathen country. I hardly think barbarians would have done any worse;
yet this is called a Christian country."
"Christian in name," answered the principal. "When your father left you
in my care, knowing that I was an Abolitionist, he confided his secret
to me. He said that life was full of vicissitudes, and he wished you to
have a good education. He wanted you and your sister to be prepared for
any emergency. He did not wish you to know that you had negro blood in
your veins. He knew that the spirit of caste pervaded the nation, North
and South, and he was very anxious to have his children freed from its
depressing influences. He did not intend to stay South after you had
finished your education."
"But," said Harry, "I cannot understand. If my mother was lawfully
married, how could they deprive her of her marital rights?"
"When Lorraine," continued Mr. Bascom, "knew your father was dead, all
he had to do was to find a flaw in her manumission, and, of course, the
marriage became illegal. She could not then inherit property nor
maintain her freedom; and her children followed her condition."
Harry listened attentively. Things which had puzzled him once now became
perfectly clear. He sighed heavily, and, turning to the principal, said:
"I see things in a new light. Now I remember that none of the planters'
wives ever visited my mother; and we never went to church except when my
father took us to the Cathedral in New Orleans. My father was a
Catholic, but I don't think mamma is."
"Now, Harry," said the principal, "life is before you. If you wish to
stay North, I will interest friends in your behalf, and try to get you a
situation. Going South is out of the question. It is probable that by
this time your mother and sister are removed from their home. You are
powerless to fight against the law that enslaved them. Should you fall
into the clutches of Lorraine, he might give you a great deal of
trouble. You would be pressed into the Confederate service to help them
throw up barricades, dig trenches, and add to the strength of those who
enslaved your mother and sister."
"Never! never!" cried Harry. "I would rather die than do it! I should
despise myself forever if I did."
"Numbers of our young men," said Mr. Bascom, "have gone to the war which
is now raging between North and South. You have been sick for several
months, and much has taken place of which you are unaware. Would you
like to enlist?"
"I certainly would; not so much for the sake of fighting for the
Government, as with the hope of finding my mother and sister, and
avenging their wrongs. I should like to meet Lorraine on the
battle-field."
"What kind of a regiment would you prefer, white or colored?"
Harry winced when the question was asked. He felt the reality of his
situation as he had not done before. It was as if two paths had suddenly
opened before him, and he was forced to choose between them. On one side
were strength, courage, enterprise, power of achievement, and memories
of a wonderful past. On the other side were weakness, ignorance,
poverty, and the proud world's social scorn. He knew nothing of colored
people except as slaves, and his whole soul shrank from equalizing
himself with them. He was fair enough to pass unchallenged among the
fairest in the land, and yet a Christless prejudice had decreed that he
should be a social pariah. He sat, thoughtful and undecided, as if a
great struggle were going on in his mind. Finally the principal said, "I
do not think that you should be assigned to a colored regiment because
of the blood in your veins, but you will have, in such a regiment,
better facilities for finding your mother and sister."
"You are right, Mr. Bascom. To find my mother and sister I call no task
too heavy, no sacrifice too great."
Since Harry had come North he had learned to feel profound pity for the
slave. But there is a difference between looking on a man as an object
of pity and protecting him as such, and being identified with him and
forced to share his lot. To take his place with them on the arena of
life was the test of his life, but love was stronger than pride.
His father was dead. His mother and sister were enslaved by a mockery of
justice. It was more than a matter of choice where he should stand on
the racial question. He felt that he must stand where he could strike
the most effective blow for their freedom. With that thought strong in
his mind, and as soon as he recovered, he went westward to find a
colored regiment. He told the recruiting officer that he wished to be
assigned to a colored regiment.
"Why do you wish that," said the officer, looking at Harry with an air
of astonishment.
"Because I am a colored man."
The officer look puzzled. It was a new experience. He had seen colored
men with fair complexions anxious to lose their identity with the
colored race and pose as white men, but here was a man in the flush of
his early manhood, to whom could come dreams of promotion from a simple
private to a successful general, deliberately turning his back upon
every gilded hope and dazzling opportunity, to cast his lot with the
despised and hated negro.
"I do not understand you," said the officer. "Surely you are a white
man, and, as such, I will enlist you in a white regiment."
"No," said Harry, firmly, "I am a colored man, and unless I can be
assigned to a colored regiment I am not willing to enter the army."
"Well," said the officer, "you are the d----d'st fool I ever saw--a man
as white as you are turning his back upon his chances of promotion! But
you can take your choice."
So Harry was permitted to enter the army. By his promptness and valor he
soon won the hearts of his superior officers, and was made drill
sergeant. Having nearly all of his life been used to colored people, and
being taught by his mother to be kind and respectful to them, he was
soon able to gain their esteem. He continued in the regiment until Grant
began the task of opening the Mississippi. After weeks of fruitless
effort, Grant marched his army down the west side of the river, while
the gunboats undertook the perilous task of running the batteries. Men
were found for the hour. The volunteers offered themselves in such
numbers that lots were cast to determine who should have the opportunity
to enlist in an enterprise so fraught with danger. Harry was one on whom
the lot fell.
Grant crossed the river below, coiled his forces around Vicksburg like
a boa-constrictor, and held it in his grasp. After forty-seven days of
endurance the city surrendered to him. Port Hudson, after the surrender
of Vicksburg, gave up the unequal contest, and the Mississippi was open
to the Gulf.