by Ginny Dye
“Good. This where you need to be,” Annie said firmly. “Now y’all go inside. I got to talk to June.” Her voice wavered before she forced a smile. “I be gonna wanting to hear all about my Sadie’s last months up in Philadelphia. And I wanting to hear about all the rest of them, too. When my Sadie girl decided to move north with you, I reckon all of you become my family. I be real sorry about your loss.”
Moses went into the kitchen after dinner to help Annie with the slices of pie she was dishing up for everyone. She had refused help in the kitchen, saying she needed some time to move what she had learned from her head into her heart. More than a little awed by his mama’s strength, Moses had tried to be strong for June, barely able to comprehend what had happened himself. He had seen plenty of death in the war, but it had never worn the face of his crippled little sister. He gritted his teeth when he thought about how little time they had together after years of being separated by the slave auction.
“You got every right to be angry,” Annie said as Moses stared into the flames. “I had Sadie all them years. You did so much to make sure we all be together again, and then she got snatched away so quick.”
It was only then that Moses realized his anger matched his grief. He looked down at his mama, realizing that her stout, short body housed a heart much larger than his. “I hope I’ll be like you one day, Mama.”
“You already be like me, Moses. You be a fine man with a powerful lot of love in your heart. You did what you promised to do all them years ago. You set June free from slavery and allowed her little boy to be born in freedom. Then you came after me and Sadie. I don’t reckon we would still be hiding out on that empty plantation, but I sho nuff don’t know what we be doing if you hadn’t come. We for sure wouldn’t have been in such a fine place as this, and Sadie wouldn’t have had no chance to go to school up north.” Annie pressed Moses’s hand tightly. “You done real good, son.”
Moses tried to let her words penetrate his heart. “I don’t feel like I did good,” he admitted.
“Course not. The grief still be swallowing you up,” Annie agreed.
“How come you are so much stronger than I am?” Moses implored. “I feel like I’m drowning inside.”
Annie smiled tenderly. “I don’t reckon I’m any stronger. It’s just that I lived longer than you to have to bear more death and more grief. It don’t get no easier, but you do learn it ain’t gonna kill you. When your daddy got killed, I didn’t think I could never feel joy again, but I was wrong. It came back. It will come back this time, too.” She reached up and laid a hand on his cheek. “Your joy will come back, Moses. June’s joy will come back. It will take some time, but it will come back,” she said firmly. “You gonna miss Sadie for the rest of your life. That don’t go away. But neither does the remembering. You gonna remember all the reasons you loved Sadie.”
Moses took a deep breath, hoping she was right, feeling better as her love flowed into him from her touch. “I love you, Mama,” he said roughly.
“And I love you, son,” Annie replied, turning to pick up the tray of pie plates. “Now, let’s go hear about all them fine children. I want my last memories to be of the good life they were building for themselves up there in Philadelphia.”
Chapter Ten
Matthew leaned back against the bench and stared up at the Capitol Building, its almost three hundred-foot cast iron dome standing out with grandeur against Washington, D.C.’s azure blue sky. He closed his eyes and relished the feel of the soft spring breeze on his face. The end of March had ushered in the end of a brutal winter. Branches that had been snow-covered just weeks before were now alive with bursting buds and the fresh green of tiny new leaves. Thick winter coats had been stored away, replaced by elegant jackets, colorful dresses, and relieved expressions.
Matthew watched quietly as the members of Congress climbed the steps to the Capitol. The somber looks on their faces marked the importance of the occasion.
“What do you think will happen today?” Peter Wilcher asked.
Matthew shrugged, not responding to his colleague’s question. He didn’t want to think about it right now. More accurately, he didn’t want to talk about it right now. He knew their strong friendship would survive his not answering the question. “Did you know the Capitol dome was finally finished this year?”
Peter played along. “The final cost was a little over a million dollars.”
Matthew looked at him with surprise. “One million dollars? I thought the original estimate was a hundred thousand?”
“It was,” Peter agreed. “How many buildings are you aware of that cost what their designers say they are going to cost?”
Matthew chuckled. “You have a point.” He continued to stare up at the dome, his brain trying to work through all that happened in the last few weeks.
“Did you know the Capitol dome was constructed with 8,909,200 pounds of ironwork bolted together?” Peter asked.
Bemused, Matthew glanced at him. “And you know this how?”
Peter chuckled. “I like numbers, and since you don’t seem interested in talking about the vote today, I thought I would share them with you.”
“I like the way it looks,” Matthew replied, still not ready to discuss anything else. “Look at all those columns, pilasters and windows. I love the statue best, though.” He tilted his head back further as he gazed at the Statue of Freedom designed by Thomas Crawford. He never tired of looking at the classical female figure standing guard over the Capitol. Her long, flowing hair was encased by a helmet with a crest composed of an eagle’s head and feathers, and encircled with nine stars. Her dress was secured with a brooch inscribed with “U.S.” and then draped with a heavy, flowing, toga-like robe fringed with fur and decorative balls. Her right hand rested upon the hilt of a sheathed sword wrapped in a scarf. Her left hand held a laurel wreath of victory and the shield of the United States with thirteen stripes.
Peter nodded. “I love the ten bronze points tipped with platinum that are attached to her headdress, shoulders, and shield to protect her from lightning.”
Matthew smiled but didn’t look away. “The dome is a masterpiece of American will and ingenuity.”
“And you’re staring at it because you’re hoping that what happens inside there today will reflect that,” Peter said astutely.
Matthew lowered his eyes and shifted his stare to his friend. “Yes,” he admitted, “but I won’t admit to having any great hope of that.”
“You believe President Johnson will veto the Civil Rights bill.”
“Don’t you?” Matthew asked.
Peter sighed heavily. “Yes. I was overjoyed when it passed the Senate in February and then passed the House of Representatives two weeks ago on March thirteenth, but I’ve heard nothing from our president that indicates he won’t follow the same course of action he took with the Freedmen’s Bureau bill.”
“He’ll veto it today,” Matthew predicted.
“You don’t seem to be bothered by that idea,” Peter observed.
Matthew turned his attention back to the Capitol dome, enjoying how the light played against the Statue of Freedom’s helmet and shield, but he realized the protection it communicated was not enjoyed by everyone. “I’m not. The president will veto the bill because I believe he has gravely miscalculated the Republican stand on civil rights for blacks. They are not yet ready to give blacks the vote, but they at least believe everyone should have the right to work as free laborers and to have federal protection while they do it.”
“And that’s a good thing?” Peter pressed.
Matthew turned back to him. “I’ve been in Washington most of the month. You just got here. It’s been interesting, if nothing else, to watch how this has played out. I was in the Capitol recently and overheard an Ohio senator. He said all Republicans feel that the most important interests are at stake. He went on to say, ‘If the president vetoes the Civil Rights bill, I believe we shall be obliged to draw our swords for a fight and throw aw
ay the scabbards.’ ” He glanced up at the statue, watching as a fluffy white cloud seemed to perch on her head. “The only way we will truly be free in this country is if everyone is free. It took tremendous passion to go to war. It is going to take the same passion to ensure equal rights for everyone.” He smiled grimly. “President Johnson’s attitudes and actions are making sure the passion remains.”
Peter inclined his head, his gaze lifted to watch the play of the clouds against the statue. “So you believe this bill is the answer?”
Matthew hesitated. “I believe it is a part of the answer. It was written by Senator Trumbull, a moderate Republican who honestly believed he was proposing actions our president would endorse. Of course, he also believed Johnson would sign the Freedmen’s Bureau bill. I believe they are steps in the right direction, but I don’t believe they go far enough.” He smiled grimly. “I believe Johnson’s bullheaded position to refuse even basic rights will ignite the passion to do more. There is going to be a huge fight.”
“But why would Johnson veto it if he knows how the Republicans feel? He has to know it won’t go over well,” Peter protested.
Matthew shook his head. “Why does our president do most of what he does? I wish I knew. I’m just confident it will backfire this time. He moved forward in reconstructing the South the way he believed it should be done, regardless of what anyone thought or told him.” He fought to be fair. “I think Johnson honestly believes state’s rights are sacrosanct to anything else, and he fears the results of too much federal power. Unfortunately, he is also a racist who allows his own prejudices to mar his perceptions and decisions. He’s miscalculating not only the Republican members of Congress but also the strength of public sentiment.”
“If he vetoes it, do you believe Congress will override it?”
Matthew nodded with somber satisfaction. “I do. I believe that, for the first time in American history, Congress will enact a major piece of legislation over a president’s veto.”
Rose waited until every student had found a place in the school house. The windows were all open, allowing the soft spring air to flow into the building.
Crocuses carpeted the woods, and bright green ferns poked their tightly furled heads out of the ground. Winter, once it decided to leave, had rushed off in a hurry. Streams gurgled with melted snow as trees burst forth with new life, the redbud trees creating clouds of purple in the surrounding woods.
Rose stood quietly as all the children and all the adults crowded into the school. On such a momentous occasion, she had insisted everyone be present. For that very reason, she had waited until after dinner so all the men and women working hard in the fields would be done for the day. The sun was just beginning to lower toward the horizon, the air taking on the chill of an early spring evening. Moses had made sure the wood stove was stuffed full of wood and blazing brightly before he had taken a place against the back wall.
When everyone outside had found a place, Rose smiled brightly. “I have something to read to all of you,” she began. “I received this today from Matthew Justin.”
“He’s that journalist fellow, ain’t he?” a woman called.
“Isn’t he?” Rose corrected. “But, yes, Matthew is a journalist and writer. He has spent the month of March in Washington, DC so that he could stay current on the information in this letter. It’s a week old, so I’m sure more things have happened, but it’s the most current news I have. It’s something all of you need to hear.”
“Be it good news?” Justine, a fifteen-year-old student, called out.
Rose eyed her quietly, her brow lifted.
Justine grinned with embarrassment. “I meant to say, is it good news?”
Rose smiled. “Yes, I think it’s very good news, Justine.” Her eyes swept over her students, some only five years old. “I realize many of you are not going to be able to understand what I’m reading, but I believe it is important for you to be here because it is a momentous day in the history of our race. Your parents will help you understand it when you get home, but you’ll always be able to say you were here to hear about it.” She lifted the letter and began to read the part of the letter she had marked.
I have news about the Civil Rights bill that is formally titled "An Act to protect all Persons in the United States in their Civil Rights, and furnish the Means of their vindication.” The act declares that people born in the United States and not subject to any foreign powers are entitled to be citizens, without regard to race, color, or previous condition of slavery or involuntary servitude.
Rose paused to let the gasps and murmurs quiet down before she continued.
The Civil Rights bill also says that any citizen has the same right that a white citizen has to make and enforce contracts, sue and be sued, give evidence in court, and inherit, purchase, lease, sell, hold and convey real and personal property. Additionally, the act guarantees to all citizens the full and equal benefit of all laws and proceedings for the security of person and property, as is enjoyed by white citizens, along with punishment, pains, and penalties.
Persons denying these rights on account of race or previous enslavement are guilty of a misdemeanor. Upon conviction, they face a fine not exceeding $1000, or imprisonment not exceeding one year, or both.
Rose finished reading and looked up, knowing there would be questions.
“Does that mean black men are going to get the right to vote?” Polly asked. “I didn’t hear nothing — I mean, anything in there about that.”
Rose frowned. “No,” she admitted. “The Civil Rights bill certainly doesn’t do everything we would like it to do, but it’s a big step in the right direction.”
“Will it stop them Black Codes?”
Rose raised her eyebrows. It was an ironclad rule in her schoolroom that everyone speak correctly.
“Will it stop the Black Codes?” the question came again.
“I hope so,” Rose said. She had made sure all her students knew about the Black Codes. They could only be extra vigilant to protect their families if they knew the risks. “Virginia has just enacted a vagrancy law. The Civil Rights bill will change that.”
Gabe, from his place next to Polly, raised the next question. “Has that bill become law yet?”
Rose shook her head. “Not that I know. I do know it passed both the Senate and the House of Representatives, but President Johnson had not yet signed it into law when Matthew sent this letter.”
“What if he doesn’t sign it?” another woman called.
“That’s a good question,” Rose responded. Let me read what Matthew said about that.”
You can tell your students the bill will certainly become law. Republican sentiment to ensure equal rights for blacks is quite determined. They may have to override the president’s veto, but they have the votes necessary to do it.
Silence fell on the room for a moment as they absorbed her words. A slightly built man, stooped from years in the cotton fields, stepped forward. “All that sounds real good, but how they gonna enforce it? Seems to me the white men down here ain’t gonna care about a piece of paper telling them what they supposed to do. They done pulled out most of the troops down here. Didn’t you tell us President Johnson done allowed all the states to form their own governments again? I don’t see them making that kind of thing stick.”
Rose sighed. She had been wondering the same thing. She made no attempt to correct Abner’s language. He had just started school two weeks earlier and had not yet conquered reading. It was too much to ask for proper speaking yet. “I don’t know the answers to that,” she answered honestly. “I’ve been having the same questions.”
Abby raised her hand slightly. “Could I say something about that?”
Rose had seen her slip into the back of the room shortly after the meeting started. “Please,” she said with relief, and then turned back to everyone. “Most of you know Abigail Cromwell. She delivered this letter to me yesterday from Richmond because she knows how important it is.”
> All eyes turned toward the only white person in the room.
“Making any kind of change is a difficult thing,” she began. “I became part of the abolition movement back in the Thirties. I truly believed slavery would be over quickly because it was simply the right thing. I found out very quickly that reality was different from what I expected.” She smiled wryly and then added, “It took much longer than I thought it should, but it did happen. Equal rights for all of you is going to be the same way. It seems just as obvious to me that blacks and women should have the right to vote, but I suspect it is going to be a battle. There will be some steps forward, there will be some steps back, and then there will be times when you’re convinced everything is simply standing in place, not moving anywhere.”
Every eye was fixed on her.
“This Civil Rights bill is just a step,” Abby continued. “But it’s an important step. It was written when moderate Republicans still believed President Johnson was a reasonable man with the best interests of the freed slaves at heart. They no longer believe that. In a way, that’s a good thing.”
“A good thing that our president don’t — I mean, doesn’t think we deserve equal rights?” Gabe asked.
“No, of course not,” Abby said quickly. “That’s not what I meant. It’s a horrible thing that he feels that way, but now everyone sees him for who he is. They realize he’s not a man of reason, and that he doesn’t have the best interests of the freed slaves at heart. They will pass this bill, but the next one that follows will be even stronger. It will demand more rights.”
“How they gonna enforce it?” Abner asked again, his eyes fixed defiantly on Abby.
Abby shook her head heavily. “I don’t know the answers to all these questions,” she replied. “I don’t know that anyone does. The country is still reeling from losing President Lincoln’s leadership. Many things happened under President Johnson last year that I don’t believe should have happened.”