CHAPTER EIGHT
_The Political Machine Begins its Work_
All that has been set down thus far, you will say, is trifling,unimportant and wearisome. Your decision is not to be disputed; but if,by an effort of the mind, you could throw yourself back to those dreaddays, you would understand what a diversion these trifling events andepisodes created for the heart-stricken and soul-weary people of thatregion. The death of Margaret Bridalbin moved them to pity, and awoke intheir minds pleasing memories of happier days, when peace and prosperityheld undisputed sway in all directions. The arrival of the Claiborneshad much the same effect. It gave the community something to talk about,and, in a small measure, took them out of themselves. Moreover, theClaibornes, mother and daughter, proved to be very attractive additionsto the town's society. They were both bright and good-humoured, and thedaughter was very beautiful.
To a people overwhelmed with despair, the most trifling episode becomescuriously magnified. The case of Mr. Goodlett is very much to the point.He was merely an individual, it is true, but in some respects anindividual represents the mass. When Sherman's men hanged him to alimb, under the mistaken notion that he was the custodian of the Cloptonplate, the last thing he remembered as he lost consciousness, was theticking of his watch. It sounded in his ears, he said, as loud as theblows of a sledge-hammer falling on an anvil. From that day until hedied, he never could bear to hear the ticking of a watch. He gave histime-piece to his wife, who put it away with her other relics andtreasures.
How it was with other communities it is not for this chronicler to say,but the collapse of the Confederacy, coming when it did, was an eventthat Shady Dale least expected. The last trump will cause no greatersurprise and consternation the world over, than the news of Lee'ssurrender caused in that region. The public mind had not been preparedfor such an event, especially in those districts remote from the centresof information. Almost every piece of news printed in the journals ofthe day was coloured with the prospect of ultimate victory: and when thecurtain suddenly came down and the lights went out, no language candescribe the grief, the despair, and the feeling of abject humiliationthat fell upon the white population in the small towns and villagecommunities. How it was in the cities has not been recorded, but it isto be presumed that then, as now, the demands and necessities of tradeand business were powerful enough to overcome and destroy the worsteffects of a calamity that attacked the sentiments and emotions.
It has been demonstrated recently on some very wide fields of actionthat the atmosphere of commercialism is unfavourable to the growth ofsentiments of an ideal character. That is why wise men who believe inthe finer issues of life are inclined to be suspicious of what isloosely called civilisation and progress, and doubtful of the theoriesof those who clothe themselves in the mantle of science.
Whatever the feeling in the cities may have been when news of thesurrender came, it caused the most poignant grief and despair in thecountry places: and there, as elsewhere in this world, wheneversuffering is to be borne, the most of the burden falls on the shouldersof the women. It is at once the strength and weakness of the sex thatwoman suffers more than man and is more capable of enduring the pangs ofsuffering.
As for the men they soon recovered from the shock. They were startledand stunned, but when they opened their eyes to the situation they foundthemselves confronted by conditions that had no precedent or parallel inthe history of the world. It is small fault if their minds failed atfirst to grasp the significance and the import of these conditions, sonew were they and so amazing.
A few years later, Gabriel Tolliver, who, when the surrender came, was alad just beyond seventeen, took himself severely to task before a publicassemblage for his blindness in 1865, and the years immediatelyfollowing; and his criticisms must have gone home to others, for theolder men who sat in the audience rose to their feet and shook the housewith their applause. They, too, had been as blind as the boy.
It was perhaps well for Shady Dale that Mr. Sanders came home when hedid. He had been in the field, if not on the forum. He had mingled withpublic men, and, as he himself contended, had been "closeted" with oneof the greatest men the country ever produced--the reference being toMr. Lincoln. Mr. Sanders had to tell over and over again the story ofhow he and Frank Bethune didn't kidnap the President; and he broughthome hundreds of rich and racy anecdotes that he had picked up in thecamp. In those awful days when there was little ready money to be had,and business was at a standstill, and the courts demoralised, and thewhole social fabric threatening to fall to pieces, it was Mr. BillySanders who went around scattering cheerfulness and good-humour ascarelessly as the children scatter the flowers they have gathered in thefields.
Mr. Sanders and Francis Bethune had formed a part of the escort thatwent with Mr. Davis as far as Washington in Wilkes County. On thisaccount, Mr. Sanders boasted that at the last meeting of the ConfederateCabinet held in that town, he had elected himself a member, and was dulyinstalled. "It was the same," he used to say, "as j'inin' theFree-masons. The doorkeeper gi' me the grip an' the password, the headman of the war department knocked me on the forrerd, an' the thing wasdone. When Mr. Davis was ready to go, he took me by the hand, an' says,'William,' says he, 'keep house for the boys till I git back, an' beshore that you cheer 'em up.'"
This sort of nonsense served its purpose, as Mr. Sanders intended thatit should. Wherever he appeared on the streets a crowd gathered aroundhim--as large a crowd as the town could furnish. To a spectator standinga little distance away and out of hearing, the attitude and movements ofthese groups presented a singular appearance. The individuals would moveabout and swap places, trying to get closer to Mr. Sanders. There wouldbe a period of silence, and then, suddenly, loud shouts of laughterwould rend the air. Such a spectator, if a stranger, might easily haveimagined that these men and boys, standing close together, and shoutingwith laughter at intervals, were engaged in practising a part to bepresented in a rural comedy--or that they were a parcel of simpletons.
One peculiarity of Mr. Sanders's humour was that it could not beimitated with any degree of success. His raciest anecdote lost a largepart of its flavour when repeated by some one else. It was the way hetold it, a cut of the eye, a lift of the eyebrow, a movement of thehand, a sudden air of solemnity--these were the accessories that gavepoint and charm to the humour.
Mr. Sanders had cut out a very large piece of work for himself. He keptit up for some time, but he gradually allowed himself longer and longerintervals of seriousness. The multitude of problems growing out of thenew and strange conditions were of a thought-compelling nature; and theygrew larger and more ominous as the days went by. Gabriel Tolliver mighttake to the woods, as the saying is, and so escape from the prevailingdepression. But Mr. Sanders and the rest of the men had no suchresource; responsibility sat on their shoulders, and they were compelledto face the conditions and study them. Gabriel could sit on the fence bythe roadside, and see neither portent nor peril in the groups and gangsof negroes passing and repassing, and moving restlessly to and fro, somewith bundles and some with none. He watched them, as he afterwardcomplained, with a curiosity as idle as that which moves a little childto watch a swarm of ants. He noticed, however, that the negroes were nolonger cheerful. Their child-like gaiety had vanished. In place of theirloud laughter, their boisterous play, and their songs welling forth andfilling the twilight places with sweet melodies, there was silence.Gabriel had no reason to regard this silence as ominous, but it was soregarded by his elders.
He thought that the restless and uneasy movements of the negroes wereperfectly natural. They had suddenly come to the knowledge that theywere free, and they were testing the nature and limits of their freedom.They desired to find out its length and its breadth. So much was clearto Gabriel, but it was not clear to his elders. And what a pity that itwas not! How many mistakes would have been avoided! What a dreadfultangle and turmoil would have been prevented if these grown childrencould have been judged from Gabriel's point of view! For the
boy'sinterpretation of the restlessness and uneasiness of the blacks was thecorrect one. Your historians will tell you that the situation wasextraordinary and full of peril. Well, extraordinary, if you will, butnot perilous. Gabriel could never be brought to believe that there wasanything to be dreaded in the attitude of the blacks. What he scoredhimself for in the days to come was that his interest in the matternever rose above the idle curiosity of a boy.
And yet there were some developments calculated to pique curiosity. Afew years before the war, one of Madame Awtry's nephews fromMassachusetts came in to the neighbourhood preaching freedom to thenegroes. As a result, a large body of the Clopton negroes gatheredaround the house one morning with many breathings and mutterings. UnclePlato, the carriage-driver, went to his master with a very grave face,and announced that the hands, instead of going to work, had come in abody to the house.
"Well, go and see what they want, Plato," said the master of the CloptonPlace.
"I done ax um dat, suh," replied Uncle Plato, "an' dey say p'intedly datdey want ter see you."
"Very well; where is Mr. Sanders?"
"He out dar, suh, makin' fun un um."
When Meriwether Clopton went out, he was told by old man Isaiah, theforeman of the field-hands, that the boys didn't want to be "Bledserd."It was some time before the master could understand what the old manmeant, but Mr. Sanders finally made it clear, and Meriwether Cloptonsent the negroes about their business with a promise that none of themshould ever be "Bledserd" by his consent.
A year or two before this "rising" occurred, General Jesse Bledsoe haddied leaving a will, by the terms of which all his negroes were giventheir freedom, and provision was made for their transportation to a freeState. But the General had relatives, who put in their claims, andsucceeded in breaking the will, with the result that many of the negroeswere carried to the West and Southwest, bringing about a wholesaleseparation of families, the first that had ever occurred in thatsection. The impression it made on both whites and negroes was a lastingone. In the minds of the blacks, freedom was only another name for"Bledserin'."
Nevertheless, when, after the collapse of the Confederacy and the adventof Sherman's army, the Clopton negroes were told that they were free, alarge number of them joined the restless, migratory throng that passedto and fro along the public highway, some coming, some going, but allmoved by the same irresistible impulse to test their freedom--to see ifthey really could come hither and go yonder without let or hinderance.Uncle Plato and his family, with a dozen others who were sagaciousenough to follow the old man's example, remained in their places andfared better than the rest.
For a time Shady Dale rested peacefully in its seclusion, watching thecourse of events with apparent tranquillity. But behind this appearanceof repose there was a good deal of restlessness and uneasiness.Sometimes its bosom (so to speak) was inflamed with anger, and sometimesit would be sunk in despair. One of the events that brought Shady Dalecloser to the troubles that the newspapers were full of, was a circularletter issued by Major Tomlin Perdue, of Halcyondale. Major Perdue hadreturned home thoroughly reconstructed. He was full of admiration forGeneral Grant's attitude toward General Lee, and he endorsed with allhis heart the tone and spirit of Lee's address to his old soldiers; butwhen he saw the unexpected turn that the politicians had been able togive to events, he found it hard to hold his peace. Finally, when hecould restrain himself no longer, he incited his friends to hold ameeting and propose his name as a candidate for Congress. This was done,and the Major seized the opportunity to issue a circular letterdeclining the nomination, and giving his reasons therefor. This letterremains to this day the most scathing arraignment of carpet-baggery,bayonet rule, and the Republican Party generally that has ever been putin print. It contained some decidedly picturesque references to thepersonality of the commander of the Georgia district, who happened to beGeneral Pope, the famous soldier who had his head-quarters in the saddleat a very interesting period of the Civil War.
Major Perdue did not intend it so, but his letter was a piece of purerecklessness. The effect of this scorching document was to bring acompany of Federal troops to Halcyondale, and in the course of a fewweeks a detachment was stationed at Shady Dale. In each case theybrought their tents with them, and went into camp. This was taken as asignal by the carpet-baggers that the region round-about was to becultivated for political purposes, and forthwith they began operations,receiving occasional accessions in the person of a number of scalawags,the most respectable and conscientious of these being Mr. Mahlon Butts,who had been a vigorous and consistent Union man all through the war. Hecould be neither convinced nor intimidated, and his consistency won forhim the respect of his neighbours. But when the carpet-baggers madetheir appearance, and Mahlon Butts began to fraternise with them, he wasostracised along with the rest.
It soon became necessary for the whites to take counsel together, andShady Dale became, as it had been before the war, the Mecca of thevarious leaders. Before the war, the politicians of both parties were inthe habit of meeting at Shady Dale, enjoying the barbecues for which thetown was famous, and taking advantage of the occasion to lay out theprogramme of the campaign. And now, when it was necessary to organise awhite man's party, the leaders turned their eyes and their steps toShady Dale.
Then it was that Gabriel had an opportunity to see Toombs, and Stephens,and Hill, and Herschel V. Johnson--he who was on the national ticketwith Douglas in 1860--and other men who were to become prominent later.There were some differences of opinion to be settled. A few of theleaders had advised the white voters to take no part in the politicalfarce which Congress had arranged, but to leave it all to the negroesand the aliens, especially as so many of the white voters had beendisfranchised, or were labouring under political disabilities. Others,on the contrary, advised the white voters to qualify as rapidly aspossible. It was this difference of opinion that remained to be settled,so far as Georgia was concerned.
It was Gabriel's acquaintance with Mr. Stephens that first fired hisambition. Here was a frail, weak man, hardly able to stand alone, whohad been an invalid all his life, and yet had won renown, and by hiswisdom and conservatism had gained the confidence and esteem of men ofall parties and of all shades of opinion. His willpower and his energylifted him above his bodily weakness and ills, and carried him throughsome of the most arduous campaigns that ever occurred in Georgia, whereheated canvasses were the rule and not the exception. Watching himclosely, and noting his wonderful vivacity and cheerfulness, GabrielTolliver came to the conclusion that if an invalid could win fame astrong healthy lad should be able to make his mark.
It fell out that Gabriel attracted the attention of Mr. Stephens, whowas always partial to young men. He made the lad sit near him, drew himout, and gave him some sound advice in regard to his studies. At thesuggestion of Mr. Stephens, the lad was permitted to attend theconferences, which were all informal, and the kindly statesman tookpains to introduce the awkward, blushing youngster to all the prominentmen who came.
It was curious, Gabriel thought, how easily and naturally the invalidled the conversation into the channel he desired. He was smoking a claypipe, which his faithful body-servant replenished from time to time."Mr. Sanders," he began, "I have heard a good deal about your attemptto kidnap Lincoln. What did you think of Lincoln anyhow?"
"Well, sir, I thought, an' still think that he was the best all-'roundman I ever laid eyes on."
"He certainly was a very great man," remarked Mr. Stephens. "I knew himwell before the war. We were in Congress together. It is odd that heshowed no remarkable traits at that time."
"Well," replied Mr. Sanders, "arter the Dimmycrats elected himPresident, he found hisself in a corner, an' he jest had to be a bigman."
"You mean after the Republicans elected him," some one suggested.
"Not a bit of it,--not a bit of it!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Why theRepublicans didn't have enough votes to elect three governors, much lessa President. But the Dimmycrats, bein' perlite by
natur' an' nottroubled wi' any surplus common sense, divided up the'r votes, an' theRepublicans walked in an' took the cake. If you ever hear of me votin'the Dimmycrat ticket--an' I reckon I'll have to do it--you may jest putit down that it ain't bekase I want to, but bekase I'm ableege to. Theparty ain't hardly got life left in it, an' yit here you big men arewranglin' an' jowerin' as to whether you'll set down an' let a drove ofmules run over you, or whether you'll stan' up to the rack, fodder or nofodder."
"This brings us to the very point we are to discuss," said Mr. Stephens,laughing. "I may say in the beginning that I am much of Mr. Sanders'sopinion. Some very able men insist that if we take no part in thisreconstruction business, we'll not be responsible for it. That is true,but we will have to endure the consequences just the same. Radicalismhas majorities at present, but these will disappear after a time."
"I reckon some of us can be trusted to wear away a few majorities," saidMr. Sanders, dryly, and it was his last contribution to the discussion.As might be supposed, no definite policy was hit upon. The conditionswere so new to those who had to deal with them, that, after aninterchange of views, the company separated, feeling that the policyproper to be pursued would arise naturally out of the immediatenecessities of the occasion, or the special character of the situation.This was the view of Mr. Stephens, who, as he was still suffering fromhis confinement in prison, accepted the invitation of Meriwether Cloptonto remain at Shady Dale for a week or more.
During that week, there was hardly a day that Gabriel did not go to theClopton Place. He went because he could see that his presence wasagreeable to Mr. Stephens, as well as to Meriwether Clopton. He was ledalong to join in the conversation which the older men were carrying on,and in that way he gained more substantial information about politicalprinciples and policies than he could have found in the books and thenewspapers.
Moreover, Gabriel came in closer contact with Francis Bethune. Thatyoung gentleman seized the opportunity to invite Gabriel to his room,where they had several familiar and pleasant talks. Bethune told Gabrielmuch that was interesting about the war, and about the men he had metin Richmond and Washington. He also related many interesting incidentsand stories of adventure, in which he had taken part. But he never onceput himself forward as the hero of an exploit. On the contrary, he wasalways in the background; invariably, it was some one else to whom hegave the credit of success, taking upon himself the responsibility ofthe failures.
Gabriel had never suspected this proud-looking young man of modesty, andhe at once began to admire and like Bethune, who was not only genial,but congenial. He seemed to take a real interest in Gabriel, and gavehim a good deal of sober advice which he should have taken himself.
"I'll never be anything but plain Bethune," he said to Gabriel. "I'dlike to do something or be something for the sake of those who have hadthe care of me; but it isn't in me. I don't know why, but the otherfellow gets there first when there's something to be won. And when I amfirst it leads to trouble. Take my college scrape; you've heard aboutit, no doubt. Well, the boys there have been playing poker ever sincethere was a college, and they'll play it as long as the college remains;but the first game I was inveigled into, the Chancellor walked in uponus while I was shuffling the cards, and stood at my back and heard mecursing the others because they had suddenly turned to their books.'That will do, Mr. Bethune,' said the Chancellor; 'we have had enoughprofanity for to-night.' Well, that has been the way all through. Iwanted to win rank in the army--and I did; I ranked everybody as theking-bee of insubordination. That isn't all. Take my gait--the way Iwalk; everybody thinks I hold my head up and swagger because I am vain.But look at the matter with clear eyes, Tolliver; I walk that waybecause it is natural to me. As for vanity, what on earth have I to bevain of?"
"Well, you are young, you know," said Gabriel--"almost as young as I am;and though you have been unlucky, that is no sign that it will always beso."
"No, Tolliver, I am several years older than you. All your opportunitiesare still to come; and if I can do nothing myself, I should like to seeyou succeed. I have heard my grandfather say some fine things aboutyou."
Now, such talk as that, when it carries the evidence of sincerity alongwith it, is bound to win a young fellow over; youth cannot resist it.Bethune won Gabriel, and won him completely. It was so pleasing toGabriel to be able to have a cordial liking for Bethune that he had thefeelings of those who gain a moral victory over themselves in the matterof some evil habit or passion. His grandmother smiled fondly on hisenthusiasm, remarking:
"Yes, Gabriel; he is certainly a fine young gentleman, and I am glad ofit for Nan's sake. He will be sure to make her happy, and she deserveshappiness as much as any human being I ever knew."
Gabriel also thought that Nan deserved to be very happy, but he couldimagine several forms of happiness that did not include marriage withBethune, however much he might admire his friend. And his enthusiasticpraises of Bethune ceased so suddenly that his grandmother looked at himcuriously. The truth is, her remarks about Nan and Bethune always gaveGabriel a cold chill. His grandmother was to him the fountain-head ofwisdom, the embodiment of experience. When he was a bit of a lad, sheused to untie all the hard knots, and untangle all the tangles thatpersisted in invading his large collection of string, cords and twines,and the ease with which she did this--for the knots seemed to comeuntied of their own accord, and the tangles to vanish as soon as herfingers touched them--gave Gabriel an impression of her ability that henever lost. Her word was law with him, though he had frequently brokenthe law, and her judgment was infallible.
Gabriel Tolliver: A Story of Reconstruction Page 9