The Broken Sword Part 9

"My dear sir, if the statement pains you I will recall it instantly.

Pray excuse me. I was Major of the 7th Virginia Cavalry, and as the army halted at the ford I saw an officer, a Colonel, who was badly wounded and who with great difficulty sat his horse on that occasion. I now see that the officer whom I then saw is the gentleman I now address, and I heartily crave your pardon for the rash expression."

"Very well, then," replied the Colonel. "We are Confederate soldiers again, and will make our future a.s.saults upon the enemy, if you please, and not upon Lee's army, that whipped the enemy at Gettysburg; yes, sir, whipped them and fell back, sir, because our base of supplies was menaced by the flooding of the Potomac, sir," fairly hissed the old man in great excitement.

"My dear sir, why this excessive warmth?" cried the stranger; "I am sure we understand each other; but, my dear sir, the war is over--why make imaginary a.s.saults upon an imaginary enemy? We are entirely in accord.

We entered the army because we then believed we were right, and--"

"Knew it, sir, knew it, and know it now, sir, know it now, sir,"

fiercely interrupted the Colonel.

"Will you allow me to ask, my dear sir, do you recall those events with any degree of pleasure?" asked the stranger.

"Yes, and no. When I realize that then and now, the enemy with unbounded resources was eternally casting into the vat of pernicious fermentation every act, thought and suggestion that was doubtful in interpretation, and brewing a concoction as nauseous as the black vomit of the red harlot herself, and eructating it upon us--the recollection is painful; but when I remember that every sword thrust into their vitals was the act of a patriot, I delight to recall events that crowned the old South with undying glory."

"Allow me one other observation, if you please," asked the stranger in a tentative way. "Admittedly the South was right, but, my dear sir, do you think it possible that men like yourself who gallantly fought for a cause they sincerely believed to be just may not impress their individuality upon an era that promises so much for the betterment of our condition as a people?"

"Barely possible, I imagine," replied the Colonel.

"Are you inclined to favor a proposition that has in contemplation the election of negroes to office."

"No sir; such a proposition, in my opinion, would be so abhorrent to our ideals of sovereignty that I should consider myself a traitor to the South and her people. Should I endorse such a proposition, it would be an act of self degradation."

"But, my dear sir," argued the stranger, "you will pardon me if I should say that every man must look out for his own safety. Patriotism to a great extent, is a matter of sentiment, and a great man once said 'It is the last refuge of a scoundrel.' You of course will not yield to such an interpretation, nor would I ask you to do so, but, sir, we must let the dead past bury its dead. We must live in the present, and we must as skilled architects build for future generations a superstructure that shall challenge the admiration of men yet unborn."

"That is to say, if I understand you," interrupted the Colonel, "you propose to inoculate the South with the poison of your infamous reconstruction policy, to engraft upon our inst.i.tutions a new and dangerous character, and besides other atrocious enormities to establish the spoils principle--its temptation to licentiousness--the watchword to animate your corrupt followers to a savage and unscrupulous warfare, sparing neither s.e.x nor age, practicing every species of fraud and hypocrisy, confounding right and wrong, and robbing the innocent and virtuous of their only treasure, their manhood and womanhood. What is your proposition, sir," he exclaimed vehemently, "but a proclamation to the venal and depraved to rally to the standard of a chief, who, like the leader of an army of bandits, points to our G.o.d-forsaken country, and says to your plunderers, 'This shall be the reward of victory.' This is no exageration, sir; disguise it as you may, your proposition leads to brigandage and ruin."

"But, my dear sir," replied the stranger, "you have so disarmed me by your arguments that I fear my mission to you will be without avail--will you allow me to proceed, sir? We deplore the fact, sir, that our most virtuous men are still braving the dangers they might, with a little circ.u.mspection avoid; still plunging headlong, as it were into great heated furnaces whose doors are open to receive them."

"How would you advise, sir, that we can protect ourselves, so we will not be utterly consumed, but only roasted here and there" asked the Colonel epigrammatically.

"Ah, you trifle with serious matters" replied the white haired stranger.

"There is one way, sir, and one way only--adopt this, sir, and the country will honor you with its blandishments. Take the tide at its flood, and co-operate patriotically with those who are enforcing manhood suffrage without respect to educational or property qualifications, and the suffrages of the adult freemen, white and black, will be cast for you for congress."

"Ah, a tempting bait," exclaimed the Colonel, "but it has a rancid negroish scent, and the hook is too sharp--too sharp sir. Do you intend to do this thing?" continued the Colonel interrogatively.

"a.s.suredly, sir," the stranger replied, with might and main.

"Then sir," shouted the indignant man, "this interview ends now."

"One more word," pleaded the stranger, "and I have done--please bear with me a moment. The Central Executive Committee, of which I am a member, feeling their great need of your invaluable services have commissioned me to make known to you their earnest desire, that you will accept a nomination, from the party, for Congress upon the reform platform."

"You mean your ultra radical platform," suggested the Colonel.

"No, not exactly that," replied the stranger, "they desire further, if however you will not accept, that you will submit your views upon the perplexing subject of negro or manhood suffrage."

"And you are sure your committee will act upon suggestions from me?" he asked.

"I am quite sure they will," answered Mr. Summers.

"Then, sir, please ask your committee, as a special request from John W.

Seymour, to put the negroes to work upon the farms; and the carpet-baggers out of the state, and hang the scalawags by the neck until they are dead, dead, dead, sir."

"Tut, tut, tut," exclaimed the old man excitedly, "you are beside yourself. Remember, my dear sir, that you are sowing the wind, and by and by strangers will reap the whirlwind. Good night, Colonel Seymour, I hope you will think better of the matter.

As the white haired stranger pa.s.sed out of the door, Clarissa, who was closing it after him, enquired of her old master, "Mars Jon, what nice farderly ole man was dat ole gemmen? he peared lak he wus mity sorrowful. Iseed him put his handkercher to his face lak he mout be weepin; what did yer say to him, ole ma.r.s.er, dat upsot him so bad?"

"Without deigning a reply Col. Seymour enquired of Clarissa what the shouting and halloing at her house last night meant?"

"Did yer heer dat racket Mars Jon? I spected yer wus asleep. Twant nuffin epceps Ned und Joshaway er cuttin up der shines. Dem n.i.g.g.e.rs been to town und c.u.m bak drunk as horgs in de mash tub und sed how dat dey had jined de milintery c.u.mpny, und was agwine to clur up de po white trash in de kentry, fo und aft; when yer hurd dem dey wus er hollern to Ellik how dat de boss sed dat dey mout go to de town und draw de lan und de mule und de penshun, dat dey wus agwine to git dern nex Saddy.

Lans sake, ole Ma.r.s.er, I specks we's agwine to have orful times in dis kentry--de n.i.g.g.e.rs turned loose lak blaten sheepses er shullikin und a pilfern erbout ebery which a way. Ole fokses used to say dat when de tip eend ob de moon wus rite red lak, dat yer mout look out fur wars und yurthshaks too, und I seed dat ur site las nite 'twixt midnite und day und it fotched what de ole fokses sed rite back to my member'nce. I'd hate powerful to see any udder bellion in dis lan, dat I would. Not ef day is ergwine to shoot steerkyarts und wheel-barrers clean froo our federick sojers, lak dey dun de last time. Grate king, Mars Jon, what sorter ammynishun did dem dare yankeys shoot outen dare kannons ennyhow?

Frum de way our po sojers wuz tore to pieces, dey put me in membrunce of ambylances, und powerful big wuns at dat; Grate king! I natally heers dare po flesh er sizzing dis minnit. Is you sho ole ma.r.s.er dat de good Lord is ergwine to fetch all dem arms und legs und heds togedder, eend fur eend at de resurreckshun, so our sojers is ergwine to know pine plank which is dere'n, und dey drifted disserway und datterway in de cornfields of Mana.s.sy und Chuckkermorger und de Bulls Run? Grate king!"

Contemporaneously with the coming of the troubles that were well nigh overwhelming the old veteran and his beautiful daughter, the death of the wife and mother came as it were the knell of doom--the giving away of the last arch in the compact fabric of human life, the snapping of the last filament in the web of destiny--the leaking of the last drop of oil from the broken cruse. With her, the heart could be nerved to extraordinary endeavor; with her, ever so many bright colors could be painted upon the angry horizon; with her, the sunset heavens would diffuse a glamour, all radiant and glorious, as if the angels were kissing its banners into crimson and with deft fingers were garnishing the leaky clouds with prismatic hues; with her, the little birds upon sportive pinions would syllable their songs into the dialect of love.

But she was pa.s.sing away--pa.s.sing away like the shadowy vapor that clings for a moment to the mountain's crest, like the resplendent star that shimmers more beautifully as it is dipping its disc below the western verge, and bids us good night--like the breath of the crushed flower that exhales its aroma for a moment, and is gone. Pa.s.sing away from a home that is darkened by shadows, pa.s.sing away from the hearts that are consumed into dead white ashes.

What black stygian waters were rushing vehemently against the fretted cas.e.m.e.nts of these poor souls. Ties that are sundering here are binding into a glorious sheaf loves and affections up yonder, as imperishable as G.o.d's great throne. Pa.s.sing away from the frigid griefs that are soon to environ old Ingleside, when the blood in its channels is to pause in its circulation, when a negro, vile and savage lacerates the dear, dear face of her beautiful daughter, and her precious blood follows the thorns.

Pa.s.sing away before the proud head of her n.o.ble husband is bowed in ignominy, when the shackles of a felon encircle arms--enslave hands that never struck a blow, except for his bleeding country. Pa.s.sing away to plead in her own glorified person to a merciful Father to speedily unite the three in the realm of joy, where there are no shadows and no griefs.

Poor Alice knew as by revelation that the lifeless form before which she was kneeling and weeping was not her mother. Oh, what a royal welcome, what a banqueting upon love there will be by and by, when the terrors of the horrid reconstruction shall so chill her young blood that it will cease to flow, by and by, beyond the sighing and the weeping.

Tenderly, yea reverently, the body was placed into the casket and removed to the parlor, just under the portrait of her dear soldier boy who went to heaven from the gory field of Mana.s.sas. Friends had gathered into the room and the man of G.o.d read from the blessed Book, "I am the resurrection and the life." The solemn discourse was almost concluded when ruffianly booted feet were heard in the verandah, and a loud knock was heard at the door. Armed, uniformed negroes had come--come like an Arctic gale, chilling and freezing heart and soul--with a mandate to s.n.a.t.c.h the living from the dead.

Laflin himself would not have pursued the poor wretch within the barred precincts of the sepulchre. The infidel powers of the East would have paused when they saw this "truce of G.o.d." But there was no order of adjournment in the message which they brought. "Forthwith" was the unequivocal command and "forthwith" was now. They had come to take the broken-hearted man, though he clung to the casket; come to prod him with bayonets if the rigid limbs did not respond quickly to the command, "Quick time--March!"

Once or twice, through sheer faint, the poor old man fell out of line and against a black guard who violently pushed him into line with the imprecation--

"D--n yu, git back inter yer place, er I'll stick my bagonet clar froo yer."

He was arraigned before three white men and four negroes, and in the presence of whom stood the white-haired stranger, Mr. Summers.

The Colonel did not clearly comprehend the character of the accusation against him. He had been informed by no one except in a general way.

Perhaps he would learn as he followed Mr. Summers in his address to this tribunal.

"Gentlemen," said Mr. Summers, continuing his speech, "whilst it was my plain duty to report upon the case of Colonel Seymour, I do so with the hope that he may be given a day to answer; indeed, gentlemen, I pray that you may not deal harshly with this old man, who is now in the sere and yellow leaf. You say that you will require him to turn his back upon the traditions of the past--upon the ancient landmarks; that he shall fraternize with our party, in fact become one of us, or his condition shall be made intolerable and his life burdensome. Spare the rod, gentlemen, for his sake and for the sake of his only child."

"What have you to say for yourself, sir," asked the chairman frigidly, addressing himself to Colonel Seymour.

"Sir, I am an old man. One more turn of your wheel--the tightening of the cord ever so slight--and a life worthless and burdensome will drop at your feet. The standard of truth, virtue and patriotism has bowed its once lofty crest, and is now prostrate in the dust. All that was beautiful and lovely in this land of our fathers is sinking, rotting, dying beneath the blight and mildew of your accursed l.u.s.t of power. Why should I survive? My life, sir, is behind me. You ask me to be your slave. Sir, your bondage is inexorable--it is the life of an outlaw, a traitor, a felon. You ask me to be your friend, and I should consort with thieves; I should crucify every principle of a man. You ask me to be your candidate--my consent would be an act of stultification. Sir, against your savage principles I swear an eternal hatred and wage an interminable war."

The feeble old man sank back exhausted into his seat.

"We intend," exclaimed the chairman with great deliberation, "to scarify the old wounds of the rebels until they bleed afresh. Sixty days, sir, within which to prove your loyalty. You can retire sir."

Thus ran the order, marked with three blood-red stars. * * *

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Kase de high shurruff he dun und seed what wuz ergwine ter c.u.m arter de bellion fell, und he flopped ober ter de publikins"----"Ole Mars Jon haint ergwine ter flop nowheys," replied Clarissa.]