CHAPTER XIV.
THE BARBACUE.
The camp-ground was about a mile from the station, and pleasantlysituated in a grove, near a stream of water. It was in frequent use bythe camp-meetings of the Methodist denomination--which sect at the Southis partial to these rural religious gatherings. Scattered over it, withan effort at regularity, were about forty small but neat log cottages,thatched with the long leaves of the turpentine pine, and chinked withbranches of the same tree. Each of these houses was floored with leavesor straw, and large enough to afford sleeping accommodations for aboutten persons, provided they spread their bedding on the ground, and laytolerably close together. Interspersed among the cabins were about adozen canvas tents which had been erected for this especial occasion.
Nearly in the centre of the group of huts a rude sort of scaffold, fouror five feet high, and surrounded by a rustic railing, served for thespeaker's stand. It would seat about a dozen persons, and was protectedby a roof of pine-boughs, interlaced together so as to keep off the sun,without affording protection from the rain. In the rear of this standwere two long tables, made of rough boards, and supported on stoutjoists, crossed on each other in the form of the letter X. A canopy ofgreen leaves shaded the grounds, and the whole grove, which wasperfectly free from underbrush, was carpeted with the soft, browntassels of the pine.
Being fatigued with the ride of the previous day, I did not awake tillthe morning was far advanced, and it was nearly ten o'clock when Andyand I took our way to the camp-ground. Avoiding the usual route, wewalked on through the forest. It was mid-winter, and vegetation lay deadall around us, awaiting the time when spring should breathe into it thebreath of life, and make it a living thing. There was silence and restin the deep woods. The birds were away on their winter wanderings; theleaves hung motionless on the tall trees, and nature seemed resting fromher ceaseless labors, and listening to the soft music of the littlestream which sung a cheerful song as it rambled on over the roots andfallen branches that blocked its way. Soon a distant murmur arose, andwe had not proceeded far before as many sounds as were heard at Babelmade a strange concert about our ears. The lowing of the ox, theneighing of the horse, and the deep braying of another animal, mingledwith a thousand human voices, came through the woods. But above and overall rose the stentorian tones of the stump speaker,
"As he trod the shaky platform, With the sweat upon his brow."
About a thousand persons were already assembled on the ground, and amore motley gathering I never witnessed. All sorts of costumes and allclasses of people were there; but the genuine back-woods corn-crackerscomposed the majority of the assemblage. As might be expected much thelarger portion of the audience were men, still I saw some women and nota few children; many of the country people having taken advantage of theoccasion to give their families a holiday. Some occupied benches infront of the stand, though a larger number were seated around in groups,within hearing of the speaker, but paying very little attention to whathe was saying. A few were whittling--a few pitching quoits, or playingleap-frog, and quite a number were having a quiet game of whist, euchreor "seven-up."
The speaker was a well-dressed, gentlemanly-looking man and a tolerablygood orator. He seemed accustomed to addressing a jury, for he displayedall the adroitness in handling his subject, and in appealing to theprejudices of his hearers, that we see in successful special pleaders.But he overshot his mark. To nine out of ten of his audience, his wordsand similes, though correct, and sometimes beautiful, were asunintelligible as the dead languages. He advocated immediate,unconditional secession; and I thought from the applause which met hisremarks, whenever he seemed to make himself understood, that the largemajority of those present were of the same way of thinking.
He was succeeded by a heavy-browed, middle-aged man, slightly bent, andwith hair a little turned to gray, but still hale, athletic, and in theprime and vigor of manhood. His pantaloons and waistcoat were of thecommon homespun, and he used, now and then, a word of the countrydialect, but as a stump-speaker he was infinitely superior to the morepolished orator who had preceded him.
He, too, advocated secession, as a right and a duty--separation, now andforever, from the dirt-eating, money-loving Yankees, who, he was ashamedto say, had the same ancestry, and worshipped the same God, as himself.He took the bold ground that slavery is a curse to both the black andthe white, but that it was forced upon this generation before its birth,by these same greedy, grasping Yankees, who would sell not only thebones and sinews of their fellow men, but--worse than that--their ownsouls, for gold. It was forced upon them without their consent, and nowthat it had become interwoven with all their social life, and was anecessity of their very existence, the hypocritical Yankees would takeit from them, because, forsooth, it is a sin and a wrong--as if _they_had to bear its responsibility, or the South could not settle its ownaffairs with its MAKER!
"Slavery is now," he continued, "indispensable to us. Without it,cotton, rice, and sugar will cease to grow, and the South will starve.What if it works abuses? What if the black, at times, is overburdened,and his wife and daughters debauched? Man is not perfect anywhere--thereare wrongs in every society. It is for each one to give his account, insuch matters, to his God. But in this are we worse than they? Are therenot abuses in society at the North? Are not their laborers overworked?While sin here hides itself under cover of the night, does it not therestalk abroad at noon-day? If the wives and daughters of blacks aredebauched here, are not the wives and daughters of whites debauchedthere? and will not a Yankee barter away the chastity of his own motherfor a dirty dollar? Who fill our brothels? Yankee women! Who load ourpenitentiaries, crowd our whipping-posts, debauch our slaves, and cheatand defraud us all? Yankee men! And I say unto you, fellow-citizens,"and here the speaker's form seemed to dilate with the wild enthusiasmwhich possessed him, "'come out from among them; be ye separate, andtouch not the unclean thing,' and thus saith the Lord God of Hosts, whowill guide you, and lead you, if need be, to battle and to victory!"
A perfect storm of applause followed. The assemblage rose, and one long,wild shout rent the old woods, and made the tall trees tremble. It wassome minutes before the uproar subsided; when it did, a voice near thespeaker's stand called out, "Andy Jones!" The call was at once echoed byanother voice, and soon a general shout for "Andy!" "Union Andy!" "BullyAndy!" went up from the same crowd which a moment before had so wildlyapplauded the secession speaker.
Andy rose from where he was seated beside me, and quietly ascended thesteps of the platform. Removing his hat, and passing to his mouth a hugequid of tobacco from a tin box in his pantaloons-pocket, he madeseveral rapid strides up and down the speaker's stand, and then turnedsquarely to the audience.
The reader has noticed a tiger pacing up and down in his cage, with hiseyes riveted on the human faces before him. He has observed how he willsingle out some individual, and finally stopping short in his rounds,turn on him with a look of such intense ferocity as makes a man's bloodstand still, and his very breath come thick and hard, as he momentarilyexpects the beast will tear away the bars of the cage and leap forth onthe obnoxious person. Now, Andy's fine, open, manly face had nothing ofthe tiger in it, but, for a moment, I could not divest myself of theimpression, as he halted in his walk up and down the stage, and turnedfull and square on the previous speaker--who had taken a seat among theaudience near me--that he was about to spring upon him. Riveting his eyeon the man's face, he at last slowly said:
"A man stands har and quotes Scriptur agin his feller man, and forgetsthat 'God made of one blood all nations that dwell on the face of the'arth.' A man stands har and calls his brother a thief, and his mother aharlot, and axes us to go his doctrin's! I don't mean his brother in theScriptur sense, nor his mother in a fig'rative sense, but I mean thebrother of his own blood, and the mother that bore him; for HE,gentlemen (and he pointed his finger directly at the recent speaker,while his words came slow and heavy with intense scorn), HE is a Yankee!And now, I say, gent
lemen, d--n sech doctrin's; d----n sechprinciples, and d----n the man that's got a soul so black as to utter'em!"
A breathless silence fell on the assemblage, while the person alluded tosprang to his feet, his face on fire, and his voice thick and brokenwith intense rage, as he yelled out: "Andy Jones, by----, you shallanswer for this!"
"Sartin," said Andy, coolly inserting his thumbs in the armholes of hiswaistcoat; "enywhar you likes--har--now--ef 'greeable to you."
"I've no weapon here, sir, but I'll give you a chance mighty sudden,"was the fierce reply.
"Suit yourself," said Andy, with perfect imperturbability; "but as youhaint jest ready, s'pose you set down, and har me tell 'bout yourrelations: they're a right decent set--them as I knows--and I'll swarthey're 'shamed of you."
A buzz went through the crowd, and a dozen voices called out: "Be civil,Andy"--"Let him blow"--"Shut up"--"Go in, Jones"--with other likeelegant exclamations.
A few of his friends took the aggrieved gentleman aside, and, soonquieting him, restored order.
"Wal, gentlemen," resumed Andy, "all on you know whar I was raised--overthar in South Car'lina. I'm sorry to say it, but it's true. And you allknow my father was a pore man, who couldn't give his boys no chance--andef he could, thar warn't no schules in the district--so we couldn't hevgot no book-larning ef we'd been a minded to. Wal, the next plantationto whar we lived was old Cunnel J----'s, the father of this cunnel. Hewas a d----d old nullifier, jest like his son--but not half so decent aman. Wal, on his plantation was an old nigger called Uncle Pomp, who'dsumhow larned to read. He was a mighty good nigger, and he'd hev been inheaven long afore now ef the Lord hadn't a had sum good use for him downhar--but he'll be thar yet a d----d sight sooner than sum on us whitefolks--that's sartin. Wal, as I was saying, Pomp could read, and when Iwas 'bout sixteen, and had never seen the inside of a book, the olddarky said to me one day--he was old then, and that was thirty yearsago--wal, he said to me, 'Andy, chile, ye orter larn to read, 'twill beob use to ye when you'se grow'd up, and it moight make you a good and'spected man--now, come to ole Pomp's cabin, and he'll larn you, Andy,chile.' Wal, I reckon I went. He'd nothin' but a Bible and Watts' Hymns;but we used to stay thar all the long winter evenin's, and by the lighto' the fire--we war both so darned pore we couldn't raise a candleatween us--wal, by the light o' the fire he larned me, and fore long Icould spell right smart.
"Now, jest think on that, gentlemen. I, a white boy, and, 'cordin' tothe Declaration of Independence, with jest as good blood in me as theold Cunnel had in him, bein' larned to read by an old slave, and thatold slave a'most worked to death, and takin' his nights, when he orterhev been a restin' his old bones, to larn me! I'm d----d if he don'tget to heaven for that one thing, if for nothin' else.
"Wal, you all know the rest--how, when I'd grow'd up, I settled har, inthe old North State, and how the young Cunnel backed my paper, and setme a runnin' at turpentining. P'raps you don't think this has much to dowith the Yankees, but it has a durned sight, as ye'll see rather sudden.Wal, arter a while, when I'd got a little forehanded, I begun shippingmy truck to York and Bostin'; and at last my Yankee factor, he come outhar, inter the back woods, to see me, and says he, 'Jones, come Northand take a look at us.' I'd sort o' took to him. I'd lots o' dealin'swith him afore ever I seed him, and I allers found him straight as ashingle. Wal, I went North, and he took me round, and showed me how theYankees does things. Afore I know'd him, I allers thought--as p'rapsmost on you do--that the Yankees war a sort o' cross atween the deviland a Jew; but how do you s'pose I found 'em? I found that they _sentthe pore man's children to schule_, FREE--and that the schule-houses wara d----d sight thicker than the bugs in Miles Privett's beds! andthat's sayin' a heap, for ef eny on you kin sleep in his house, excep'he takes to the soft side of the floor, I'm d----d. Yas, the pore man'schildren are larned thar, FREE!--all on 'em--and they've jest so good achance as the sons of the rich man! Now, arter that, do you think thatI--as got all my schulein, from an old slave, by the light of a borroredpine-knot--der you think that _I_ kin say any thing agin the Yankees?P'r'aps they _do_ steal--though I doant know it--p'r'aps they _do_debauch thar wives and darters, and sell thar mothers' vartue fordollars--but, ef they do, I'm d----d if they doant send pore childrento schule--and that's more'n we do--and let me tell you, until we dothet, we must expec' they'll be cuter and smarter nor we are.
"This gentleman, too, my friends, who's been a givin' sech a hardsettin' down ter his own relation, arter they've broughten him up, andgiven him sech a schulein for nuthin', he says the Yankees want tointerfere with our niggers. Now, thet haint so, and they couldn't efthey would, 'case it's agin the Constertution. And they stand on theConstertution a durned sight solider nor we do. Didn't thar biggun--Daniel Webster--didn't he make mince-meat of South Car'lina Hayneon thet ar' subjec'? But I tell you they haint a mind ter meddle withthe niggers; they're a goin' to let us go ter h--l our own way, andwe're goin' thar mighty fast, or I haint read the last census."
"P'r'aps you haint heerd on the ab'lsh'ners, Andy?" cried a voice fromamong the audience.
"Wal, I reckon I hev," responded the orator, "I've heerd on 'em, andseed 'em, too. When I was North I went to one on thar conventions, andI'll tell you how they look. They've all long, wimmin's har, and thin,shet lips, with big, bawlin' mouths, and long, lean, tommerhawk faces,as white as vargin dip--and they all talk through the nose (giving aspecimen), and they all look for all the world jest like the SouthCar'lina fire-eaters--and they _are_ as near like 'em as two peas,excep' they don't swar quite so bad, but they make up for thet inprayin'--and prayin' too much, I reckon, when a man's a d----dhippercrit, is 'bout as bad as swearin'. But, I tell you, the decentfolks up North haint ablisheners. They look on _'em_ jest as we do onmad dogs, the itch, or the nigger traders.
"Now, 'bout this secession bis'ness--though 'taint no use to talk onthat subjec', 'case this state never'll secede--South Car'lina has doneit, and I'm raather glad she has, for though I was born thar--and say itas hadn't orter say it--she orter hev gone to h--l long ago, and nowshe's got thar, why--_let her stay_! But, 'bout thet bis'ness, I'll tellyou a story.
"I know'd an old gentleman once by the name of Uncle Sam, and he'd aheap of sons. They war all likely boys--but strange ter tell, thoughthey'd all the same mother, and she was a white woman, 'bout half on 'emwar colored--not black, but sorter half-and-half. Now, the white sonswar well-behaved, industrious, hard-workin' boys, who got 'long well,edicated thar children, and allers treated the old man decently; but themulatter fellers war a pesky set--though some on 'em war better norothers. They wouldn't work, but set up for airystocracy--rode inkerriges, kept fast horses, bet high, and chawed tobaccer like thedevil. Wal, the result was, _they_ got out at the elbows, and 'case theywarn't gettin' 'long quite so fast as the white 'uns--though that warall thar own fault--they got jealous, and one on 'em who was blacker norall the rest--a little feller, but terrible big on braggin'--he packedup his truck one night, and left the old man's house, and swore he'dnever come back. He tried to make the other mulatters go with him, butthey put thar fingers to thar nose, and says they, 'No you doant.' I wasin favor of lettin' on him stay out in the cold, but the old man was abernevolent old critter, and so _he_ says: 'Now, sonny, you jest comeback and behave yourself, and I'll forgive you all your old pranks, andtreat you jest as I allers used ter; but, ef you wont, why--I'll makeyou, thet's all!'
"Now, gentlemen, thet quarrelsome, oneasy, ongrateful, tobaccer-chawin',hoss-racin', high-bettin', big-braggin', nigger-stealin',wimmin-whippin', yaller son of the devil, is South Car'lina, and ef shedoant come back and behave herself in futur', I'm d----d ef she wont beploughed with fire, and sowed with salt, and Andy Jones will help ter doit."
The speaker was frequently interrupted in the course of his remarks byuproarious applause--but as he closed and descended from the platform,the crowd sent up cheer after cheer, and a dozen strong men, making aseat of their arms, lifted him from the ground and bore him off to thehead of
the table, where dinner was in waiting.
The whole of the large assemblage then fell to eating. The dinner wasmade up of the barbacued beef and the usual mixture of viands found on aplanter's table, with water from the little brook hard by, and aplentiful supply of corn-whiskey. (The latter beverage had, I thought,been subjected to the rite of immersion, for it tasted wonderfully ofwater.)
Songs and speeches were intermingled with the masticating exercises, andthe whole company was soon in the best of humor.
During the meal I was introduced by Andy to a large number of the"natives," he taking special pains to tell each one that I was a Yankee,and a Union man, but always adding, as if to conciliate all parties,that I also was a guest and a friend of _his_ very particular friend,"thet d----d seceshener, Cunnel J----."
Before we left the table, the secession orator happening near where wewere seated, Andy rose from his seat, and, extending his hand to him,said: "Tom, you think I 'sulted you; p'r'aps I did, but you 'sulted myYankee friend har, and your own relation, and I hed to take it up, jestfor the looks o' the thing. Come, there's my hand; I'll fight you ef youwant ter, or we'll say no more 'bout it--jest as you like."
"Say no more about it, Andy," said the gentleman, very cordially; "let'sdrink and be friends."
They drank a glass of whiskey together, and then leaving the table,proceeded to where the ox had been barbacued, to show me how cooking ona large scale is done at the South.
In a pit about eight feet deep, twenty feet long, and ten feet wide,laid up on the sides with stones, a fire of hickory had been made, overwhich, after the wood had burned down to coals, a whole ox, divested ofits hide and entrails, had been suspended on an enormous spit. Beingturned often in the process of cooking, the beef had finally been "donebrown." It was then cut up and served on the table, and I must say, forthe credit of Southern cookery, that it made as delicious eating as anymeat I ever tasted.
I had then been away from my charge--the Colonel's horses--as long asseemed to be prudent. I said as much to Andy, when he proposed to returnwith me, and, turning good-humoredly to his reconciled friend, he said:"Now, Tom, no secession talk while I'm off."
"Nary a word," said "Tom," and we left.
The horses had been well fed by the negro whom I had left in charge ofthem, but had not been groomed. Seeing that, Andy stripped off his coat,and setting the black at work on one, with a handful of straw and pineleaves, commenced operations on the other, whose hair was soon as smoothand glossy as if it had been rubbed by an English groom.
The remainder of the day passed without incident till eleven at night,when the Colonel returned from Wilmington.
Among the Pines; or, South in Secession Time Page 15