Gabriel Tolliver: A Story of Reconstruction

by Joel Chandler Harris

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  _The Union League Organises_

  The silence was presently broken by a very clear and distinct voice,which both Nan and Gabriel recognised as that of the stranger whom theyhad overheard talking to the Rev. Jeremiah.

  "Before we proceed to the business that has called us together," saidthe voice, "it is best that we should come to some clear understanding.I am not here in my own behalf. I have nothing to lose except my life,and nothing to gain but the betterment of those who have been releasedfrom the horrors of slavery. Very few of you know even my name, but thevery fact that I am here with you to-night should go far to reassureyou. It is sufficient to say that I represent the great party that hasgiven you your freedom. That fact constitutes my credentials."

  "Bless God!" exclaimed the Rev. Jeremiah, piously. He rolled the word"credentials" under his tongue, and resolved to remember it and bring itout in one of his sermons. The stranger had a very smooth and pleasingdelivery. There was a sort of Sunday-school cadence to his voice wellcalculated to impress his audience. The language he employed was farabove the heads of those to whom he spoke, but his persuasive tone, andhis engaging manner carried conviction. The great majority of thenegroes present were ready to believe what he said whether theyunderstood it or not.

  "My name," he went on, "is Gilbert Hotchkiss, and I belong to a familythat has been striving for more than a generation to bring about theemancipation of the negroes. My father worked until the day of his deathfor the abolition of slavery; and now that slavery has been abolished,I, with thousands of devoted women and men whom you have never seen anddoubtless never will see, have begun the work of uplifting the colouredpeople in order that they may be placed in a position to appreciate thebenefits that have been conferred on them, and enable them to enjoy thefruits of freedom. It is a great work, a grand work, and all we ask isthe active co-operation and assistance of the coloured peoplethemselves."

  These were the words of Mr. Hotchkiss, the philanthropist; but now Mr.Hotchkiss, the politician, took his place, and there was an indefinablechange in the tone of his voice.

  "There is no need to ask," he said, "why we do not, in this great workof uplifting the coloured race, ask the assistance of those who werelately in rebellion against the best and the greatest Government onwhich the sun ever shone. It would be foolish and unreasonable to expecttheir assistance. They fought to destroy the Union, and they weredefeated; they fought to perpetuate slavery, and they failed. More thanthat, there is every reason to believe that they will refuse to abideby the results of the war. They are very quiet now, but they are merelywaiting their opportunity. With our troops withdrawn, and with theRepublican Party weakened by opposition, what is to prevent your latemasters from placing you back in slavery? Could we expect anything lessfrom those who have been brought up to believe that slavery is a divineinstitution?"

  "You hear dat, people?" cried the Rev. Jeremiah.

  "You cannot help believing," continued Mr. Hotchkiss, "that your formermasters would force the chains of slavery on you if they could; all theylack is the opportunity; and if you are not careful, they will find anopportunity, or make one. Slavery was profitable to them once, and itwould be profitable again. There is one fact you should never forget,"said the speaker, warming up a little. "It is a most stupendous fact,namely: that every dollar's worth of property in all this Southern landhas been earned by the labour of your hands and by the sweat of yourbrows. It has been earned by you, not once, but many times over. Youhave earned every dollar that has ever circulated here. The lands, thehouses, the stock, and all the farm improvements are a part of thefruits of negro labour; and when right and justice prevail, thisproperty, or a very large part of it, will be yours."

  This statement was received with demonstrations of approval, one of theaudience exclaiming: "You sho' is talkin' now, boss!"

  "But how are right and justice to prevail? Only by the constant andcontinued success of the party of which the martyred Lincoln was theleader. The mission of that party has not yet been fulfilled. First, itmade you freemen. Then it went a step further, and made you citizens andvoters. Should you sustain it by your votes, it will take still anotherstep, and give you an opportunity to reap some of the fruits of yourtoil, as well as the toil of the unfortunates who pined away and died orwho were starved under the infamous system of slavery."

  "Ain't it de trufe!" exclaimed the Rev. Jeremiah fervently.

  "We have met here to-night to organise a Union League," continued Mr.Hotchkiss. "The object of this league is to bring about a unity ofpurpose and action among its members, to give them opportunities toconfer together, and to secure a clear understanding. No one knows whatwill happen. Your former masters are jealous of your rights; they willtry by every means in their power to take these rights away from you.They will employ both force and fraud, and the only way for you to meetand overcome this danger is to organise. Ten men who understand oneanother and act together are more powerful than a hundred who act asindividuals. You must be as wise as serpents, but not as harmless asdoves. Your rights have been bought for you by the blood of thousands ofmartyrs, and you must defend them. If necessary arm yourselves. Yea! ifnecessary apply the torch."

  There was a certain air of plausibility about this harangue, a degreeof earnestness, that impressed Gabriel, and he does not know to this daywhether this ill-informed emissary of race hatred and sectionalprejudice really believed all that he said. Who shall judge? Certainlynot those who remember the temper of those times, the revengefulattitude of the radical leaders at the North, and the distorted fears ofthose who suddenly found themselves surrounded by a horde of ignorantvoters, pliant tools in the hands of unscrupulous carpet-baggers.

  Hotchkiss brought his remarks to a close, and then proceeded to read theconstitution and by-laws of the proposed Union League, under which, heexplained, hundreds of leagues had been organised. Each one who desiredto become a member was to make oath separately and individually that hewould not betray the secrets of the league, nor disclose the signs andpasswords, nor tolerate any opposition to the Republican Party, nor haveany unnecessary dealings with rebels and former slave-holders. He was tokeep eyes and ears open, and report all important developments to theleague.

  "We are now ready, I presume, for the ceremonies to begin," remarked Mr.Hotchkiss. "First we will elect officers of the league, and I suggestthat the Honourable Jeremiah Tomlin be made President."

  "Dat's right!" "He sho is de man!" "No needs fer ter put dat ter dequestion!" were some of the indorsements that came from various parts ofthe room.

  The Rev. Jeremiah was immensely tickled by the title of Honourable thathad been so unexpectedly bestowed on him. He hung his head with as muchmodesty as he could summon, and, bearing in mind his calling, one mighthave been pardoned for suspecting that he was offering up a brief prayerof thanksgiving. He rose in his place, however, passed the back of hishand across his mouth, paused a moment, and then began:

  "Mr. Cheer, I thank you an' deze friends might'ly fer de renomination ermy name, an' de gener'l endossments er de balance er deze gentermen. Sofur, so good. But, Mr. Cheer, 'fo' we gits right spang down terbusiness, I moves dat some er de br'ers be ax'd fer ter give der idee erdis plan which have been laid befo' us by our hon'bul frien'. I movesdot we hear fum Br'er Plato Clopton, ef so be de sperret is on him ferter gi' us his sesso."

  Uncle Plato, taken somewhat by surprise, was slow in responding, butwhen he rose, he presented a striking figure. He was taller than theaverage negro, and there was a simple dignity--an air of gentility andserene affability--in his attitude and bearing that attracted theattention of Mr. Hotchkiss. The Rev. Jeremiah was still standing, andUncle Plato, after bowing gracefully to Mr. Hotchkiss, turned with asmile to the negro who had called on him.

  "You know mighty well, Br'er Jerry, dat I ain't sech a talker ez ter gitup an' say my say des dry so, an' let it go at dat. Howsomever, I laidoff ter say sump'n, an' I ain't sorry you called my name. In what's beensaid d
ey's a heap dat I 'gree wid. I b'lieve dat de cullud folks oughterwork tergedder, an' stan tergedder fer ter he'p an' be holped. But whenyou call on me fer ter turn my back on my marster, an' go to hatin' 'im,you'll hatter skuzen me. You sho will."

  "He ain't yo' marster now, Br'er Plato, an' you know it," said the Rev.Jeremiah.

  "I know dat mighty well," replied Uncle Plato, "but ef it don't hurt myfeelin's fer ter call him dat it oughtn't ter pester yuther people. Howit may be wid you all, I dunno; but me an' my marster wus boystergedder. We useter play wid one an'er, an' fall out an' fight, an'I've whipped him des ez many times ez he ever whipped me--an' he'll tellyou de same."

  "But all this," suggested Mr. Hotchkiss coldly, "has nothing to do withthe matter in hand. The coloured race is facing conditions that amountto a crisis--a crisis that has no parallel in the world's history."

  "Dat is suttinly so!" the Rev. Jeremiah ejaculated, though he had but adim notion of what Hotchkiss was talking about.

  "They have been made citizens," pursued the organiser, "and it is theirduty to demand all their rights and to be satisfied with nothing less.The best men of our party believe that the rebels are still rebellious,and that they will seize the first opportunity to re-enslave thecoloured people."

  "Ah-yi!" exclaimed the Rev. Jeremiah triumphantly.

  "Does you reely b'lieve, Br'er Jerry, dat Pulaski Tomlin will ever tryter put you back in slav'ry?" asked Uncle Plato.

  The inquiry was a poser, and the Rev. Jeremiah was unable to make anysatisfactory reply. Perceiving this, Mr. Hotchkiss came to the rescue."You must bear in mind," he blandly remarked, "that this is not aquestion of one person here and another person there. It concerns awhole race. Should all the former slave-owners of the South succeed inreclaiming their slaves, Mr. Tomlin and Mr. Clopton would be compelledby public sentiment to reclaim theirs. If they refused to do so, theirformer slaves would fall into the hands of new masters. It is not aquestion of individuals at all."

  "Well, suh, we'll fin' out atter awhile dat we'll hatter do like dewhite folks. Eve'y tub'll hatter stan' on its own bottom. I'm des ezfree now ez I wuz twenty year ago----"

  "I can well believe that, after what you have said," Mr. Hotchkissinterrupted.

  The tone of his voice was as smooth as velvet, but his words carried thesting of an imputation, and Uncle Plato felt it and resented it. "Yes,suh,--an' I wuz des ez free twenty year ago ez you all will ever be. Mymarster has been good ter me fum de work go. I ain't stayin' wid 'imbekaze he got money. Ef him an' Miss Sa'ah di'n'a have a dollar in deworl', an no way ter git it, I'd work my arms off fer 'm. An' ef I'fused ter do it, my wife'd quit me, an' my chillun wouldn't look at me.But I'll tell you what I'll do: when my marster tu'ns his back on meI'll tu'n my back on him."

  "I'm really sorry that you persist in making this question a personalone when it affects all the negroes now living and millions yet to beborn," said Mr. Hotchkiss.

  "Well, suh, le's look at it dat away," Uncle Plato insisted. "Spoz'n youban' tergedder like dis, an' try ter tu'n de white folks ag'in you, an'dey see what you up ter, an' tu'n der backs, den what you gwine ter do?You got ter live here an' you got ter make yo' livin' here. Is you gwineter cripple de cow dat gives de cream?"

  Uncle Plato paused and looked around. He saw at once that he was in ahopeless minority, and so he reached for his hat. "I'm mighty glad terknow you, suh," he said to Mr. Hotchkiss, with a bow that Chesterfieldmight have envied, "but I'll hatter bid you good-night." With that, hewent out, followed by Wiley Millirons and Walthall's Jake, much to therelief of the Rev. Jeremiah, who proceeded to denounce "white folks'niggers," and to utter some very violent threats.

  Then, in no long time, the Union League was organised. Those in thecloset failed to hear the words that constituted the ceremony ofinitiation. Only low mutterings came to their ears. But the ceremonyconsisted of a lot of mummery well calculated to impress thesimple-minded negroes. After a time the meeting adjourned, the solitarycandle was blown out, and the last negro departed.

  Gabriel waited until all sounds had died away, and then, with a briefgood-night to Tasma Tid, he opened the closet door, slipped out, and wassoon on his way home. But before he was out of the dark grove, some onewent flitting by him--in fact, he thought he saw two figures dimlyoutlined in the darkness; yet he was not sure--and presently he thoughthe heard a mocking laugh, which sounded very much as if it had issuedfrom the lips of Nan Dorrington. But he was not sure that he heard thelaugh, and how, he asked himself, could he imagine that it was NanDorrington's even if he had heard it? He told himself confidentially,the news to go no further, that he was a drivelling idiot.

  As Gabriel went along he soon forgot his momentary impressions as to thetwo figures in the dark and the laugh that had seemed to come floatingback to him. The suave and well-modulated voice of Mr. Hotchkiss rang inhis ears. He had but one fault to find with the delivery: Mr. Hotchkissdwelt on his r's until they were as long as a fishing-pole, and as sharpas a shoemaker's awl. Though these magnified r's made Gabriel's fleshcrawl, he had been very much impressed by the address, only part ofwhich has been reported here. Boylike, he never paused to consider themotives or the ulterior purpose of the speaker. Gabriel knew of coursethat there was no intention on the part of the whites to re-enslave thenegroes; he knew that there was not even a desire to do so. He knew,too, that there were many incendiary hints in the address--hints thatwere illuminated and emphasised more by the inflections of the speaker'svoice than by the words in which they were conveyed. In spite of thefact that he resented these hints as keenly as possible, he could seethe plausibility of the speaker's argument in so far as it appealed tothe childish fears and doubts and uneasiness of the negroes. If anythingcould be depended on, he thought, to promote a spirit of incendiarismamong the negroes such an address would be that thing.

  If Gabriel had attended some of the later meetings of the league, hewould have discovered that the address he had heard was a milk-and-wateraffair, compared with some of the harangues that were made to thenegroes in the old school-house.

  All that Gabriel had heard was duly reported to Meriwether Clopton, andto Mr. Sanders, and in a very short time all the whites in the communitybecame aware of the fact that the negroes were taking lessons inrace-hatred and incendiarism, and as a natural result, Hotchkiss becamea marked man. His comings and goings were all noted, so much so that hesoon found it convenient as well as comfortable to make hishead-quarters in the country, at the home of Judge Mahlon Butts, whoseUnion principles had carried him into the Republican Party. The Judgelived a mile and a half from the corporation line, and Mr. Hotchkiss'sexplanation for moving there was that the exercise to be found inwalking back and forth was necessary to his health.

  Uncle Plato was very much surprised the next day to be called into thehouse where Mr. Sanders was sitting with Meriwether Clopton and MissSarah in order that they might shake hands with him.

  "I want to shake your hand, Plato," said his old master. "I've alwaysthought a great deal of you, but I think more of you to-day than everbefore."

  "And you must shake hands with me, Plato," remarked Sarah Clopton.

  "Well, sence shakin' han's is comin' more into fashion these days, Ireckon you'll have to shake wi' me," declared Mr. Sanders.

  "I declar' ter gracious I dunner whedder you all is makin' fun er me ornot!" exclaimed Uncle Plato. "But sump'n sholy must 'a' happened, kazedes now when I wuz downtown Mr. Alford call me in his sto' an' 'low,'Plato, when you wanter buy anything, des come right in, money er nomoney, kaze yo' credit des ez good in here ez de best man in town.' Idunner what done come over eve'ybody." He went away laughing.

  Nevertheless, Uncle Plato was more seriously affected by the schemes ofMr. Hotchkiss than any other inhabitant of Shady Dale. He had been aleader in the Rev. Jeremiah's church, and up to the day of theorganisation of the Union League, had wielded an influence among thenegroes second only to that of the Rev. Jeremiah himself. But now allwas changed. He soon found that he would
have to resign his deaconship,for those whom he had regarded as his spiritual brethren were now hisenemies--at any rate they were no longer his friends.

  But Uncle Plato had one consolation in his troubles, and that was thestrong indorsement and support of Aunt Charity, his wife, who was thecook at Clopton's, famous from one end of the State to the other for herbiscuits and waffles. Uncle Plato had been somewhat dubious about herattitude, for the negro women had developed the most intensepartisanship, and some of them were loud in their threats, going muchfurther than the men. No doubt Aunt Charity would have taken a differentcourse had she been in her husband's place, if only for the sake of hercolour, as she called her race. She was very fond of her own whitefolks, but she had her prejudices against the rest.

  When Uncle Plato reached home and told his wife what he had said anddone, she drew a long breath and looked at him hard for some time. Thenshe took up her pipe from the chimney-corner, remarking, "Well, what youdone, you done; dar's yo' supper."

  Uncle Plato had a remarkably good appetite, and while he ate, AuntCharity sat near a window and looked out at the stars. She was gettingtogether in her mind a supply of personal reminiscences, of which shehad a goodly store. Presently, she began to shake with laughter, whichshe tried to suppress. Uncle Plato mistook the sound he heard for anevidence of grief, and he spoke up promptly:

  "I declar' ef I'd 'a' know'd I wuz gwine ter hurt yo' feelings, I'd 'a'j'ined in wid um den an' dar. An' 'taint too late yit. I kin go terBr'er Jerry an' tell him whilst I ain't change my own min' I'll j'ine inwid um druther dan be offish an' mule-headed."

  "No you won't! no you won't! no you won't!" exclaimed Aunt Charity. "Imought 'a' done diffunt, an' I mought 'a' done wrong. We'll hatter gitout'n de church, ef you kin call it a church, but dat ain't so mightyhard ter do. Yit, 'fo' we does git out I'm gwine ter preach ol' Jerry'sfuner'l one time--des one time. Dat what make me laugh des now; I wasrunnin' over in my min' how I kin raise his hide. Some folks got deidee dat kaze I'm fat I'm bleeze ter be long-sufferin'; but you knowbetter'n dat, don't you?"

  "Well, I know dis," said Uncle Plato, wiping his mouth with the back ofhis hand, "when you git yo' dander up you kin talk loud an' long."

  "Miss Sa'ah done tol' me dat when I git mad, I kin keep up aconversation ez long ez de nex' one," remarked Aunt Charity, with realpride. "An' den dar's dat hat Miss Sa'ah gi' me; I laid off ter w'ar itter church nex' Sunday, but now--well, I speck I better des w'ar myhead-hankcher, kaze dey's sho gwine ter be trouble ef any un um look atme cross-eyed."

  "You gwine, is you?" Uncle Plato asked.

  "Ef I live," replied Aunt Charity, "I'm des ez good ez dar right now.An' mo' dan dat, you'll go too. 'Tain't gwineter be said dat de Cloptonniggers hung der heads bekaze dey stood by der own white folks. Ef it'ssaid, it'll hatter be said 'bout some er de yuthers."

  "I'll go," said Uncle Plato, "but I hope I won't hatter frail Br'erJerry out."

  "Now, dat's right whar we gits crossways," Aunt Charity declared. "Ihope you'll hatter frail 'im out."

  Fortunately, Uncle Plato had no excuse for using his walking-cane on theRev. Jeremiah, when Sunday came. None of the church-members made anyactive show of animosity. They simply held themselves aloof. AuntCharity had her innings, however. When services were over, and thecongregation was slowly filing out of the building, followed by the Rev.Jeremiah, she remarked loud enough for all to hear her:

  "Br'er Jerry, de nex' time you want me ter cook pullets fer dat arLizzie Gaither, des fetch um 'long. I'll be glad ter 'blige you."

  As the Rev. Jeremiah's wife was close at hand, the closing scenes can bebetter imagined than described. In this chronicle the veil of silencemust be thrown over them.

  It may be said, nevertheless, that Uncle Plato and his wife felt verykeenly the awkward position in which they were placed by the increasingprejudice of the rest of the negroes. They were both sociable in theirnatures, but now they were practically cut off from all association withthose who had been their very good friends. It was a real sacrifice theyhad to make. On the other hand, who shall say that their firmness inthis matter was not the means of preventing, at least in Shady Dale,many of the misfortunes that fell to the lot of the negroes elsewhere?There can hardly be a doubt that their attitude, firm and yet modest,had a restraining influence on some of the more reckless negroes, who,under the earnest but dangerous teachings of Hotchkiss and hisfellow-workers, would otherwise have been led into excesses which wouldhave called for bloody reprisals.