CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
_The Fate of Mr. Hotchkiss_
Mr. Hotchkiss, after leaving the Union League, had decided not to waitfor his co-worker, whom he knew as Boring. So far as he was concerned,he had no fears. He knew, of course, that he was playing with fire, butwhat of that? He had the Government behind him, and he had two companiesof troops within call. What more could any man ask? More than that, hewas doing what he conceived to be his duty. He belonged to that largeand pestiferous tribe of reformers, who go through the world withoutfixed principles. He had been an abolitionist, but he was not of theGarrison type. On the contrary, he thought that Garrison was atime-server and a laggard who needed to be spurred and driven. He wasone of the men who urged John Brown to stir up an insurrection in whichinnocent women and children would have been the chief sufferers; and hewould have rejoiced sincerely if John Brown had been successful. Hemistook his opinions for first principles, and went on the theory thatwhat he thought right could not by any possibility be wrong. He belongedto the Peace Society, and yet nothing would have pleased him betterthan an uprising of the blacks, followed by the shedding of innocentblood.
In short, there were never two sides to any question that interestedHotchkiss. He held the Southern people responsible for American slavery,and would have refused to listen to any statement of facts calculated toupset his belief. He was narrow-minded, bigoted, and intensely inearnest. Some writer, Newman, perhaps, has said that a man will notbecome a martyr for the sake of an opinion; but Newman probably nevercame in contact with the whipper-snappers of Exeter Hall, or theirprototypes in this country--the men who believe that philanthropy, andreform, and progress generally are worthless unless it be accompanied bystrife, and hate, and, if possible, by bloodshed. You find the typeeverywhere; it clings like a leech to the skirts of every greatmovement. The Hotchkisses swarm wherever there is an opening for them,and they always present the same general aspect. They are as productiveof isms as a fly is of maggots, and they live and die in the belief thatthey are promoting the progress of the world; but if their success is tobe measured by their operations in the South during the reconstructionperiod, the world would be much better off without them. They succeededin dedicating millions of human beings to misery and injustice, andwarped the minds of the whites to such an extent that they thought itnecessary to bring about peace and good order by means of various acuteforms of injustice and lawlessness.
Mr. Hotchkiss was absolutely sincere in believing that the generationof Southern whites who were his contemporaries were personallyresponsible for slavery in this country, and for all the wrongs that hesupposed had been the result of that institution. He felt it in everyfibre of his cultivated but narrow mind, and he went about elated at theidea that he was able to contribute his mite of information to thenegroes, and breed in their minds hatred of the people among whom theywere compelled to live. If there had been a Booker Washington in thatday, he would have been denounced by the Hotchkisses as a traitor to hisrace, and an enemy of the Government, just as they denounced anddespised such negroes as Uncle Plato.
Hotchkiss went along the road in high spirits. He had delivered ablistering address to the negroes at the meeting of the league, and hewas feeling happy. His work, he thought, was succeeding. Before hedelivered his address, he had initiated Ike Varner, who was by all oddsthe most notorious negro in all that region. Ike was a poet in his way;if he had lived a few centuries earlier, he would have been called aminstrel. He could stand up before a crowd of white men, and spin outrhymes by the yard, embodying in this form of biography the weak pointsof every citizen. Some of his rhymes were very apt, and there are menliving to-day who can repeat some of the extemporaneous satires composedby this negro. He had the reputation among the blacks of being anuncompromising friend of the whites. In the town, he was a privilegedcharacter; he could do and say what he pleased. He was a fine cook, andprovided possum suppers for those who sat up late at night, andice-cream for those who went to bed early. He tidied up the rooms of theyoung bachelors, he sold chicken-pies and ginger-cakes on public days,and Cephas, whose name was mentioned at the beginning of this chronicle,is willing to pay five dollars to the man or woman who can bake aginger-cake that will taste as well as those that Ike Varner made. Hewas a happy-go-lucky negro, and spent his money as fast as he made it,not on himself, but on Edie, his wife, who was young, and bright, andhandsome. She was almost white, and her face reminded you somehow of theold paintings of the Magdalene, with her large eyes and the melancholydroop of her mouth. Edie was the one creature in the world that Ikereally cared for, and he had sense enough to know that she cared for himonly when he could supply her with money. Yet he watched her like ahawk, madly jealous of every glance she gave another man; and she gavemany, in all directions. Ike's jealousy was the talk of the town amongthe male population, and was the subject for many a jest at his expense.His nature was such that he could jest about it too, but far below thejests, as any one could see, there was desperation.
In spite of all this, Ike was the most popular negro in the town. Hiswit and his good-humour commended him to the whole community. He hadmoved his wife and his belongings into the country, two or three milesfrom town, on the ground that the country is more conducive to health.Ike's white friends laughed at him, but the negro couldn't see the joke.Why should a negro be laughed at for taking precautions of this sort,when there is a whole nation of whites that keeps its women hid, orcompels them to cover their faces when they go out for a breath of freshair? The fact is that Ike didn't know what else to do, and so he senthis handsome wife into exile, and went along to keep her company.Nevertheless, all his interests were within the corporate limits ofShady Dale, and he was compelled by circumstances to leave Edie to pinealone, sometimes till late at night. Whether Edie pined or not, orwhether she was lonely, is a question that this chronicler is not calledon to discuss.
Now, the fact of Ike's popularity with the whites had struck Mr.Hotchkiss as a very unfavourable sign, and he set himself to work tobring about a change. He sent some of the negro leaders to talk withIke, who sent them about their business in short order. Then Mr.Hotchkiss took the case in hand, and called on Ike at his house. The twohad an argument over the matter, Ike interspersing his remarks withrandom rhymes which Hotchkiss thought very coarse and crude. At theconclusion of the argument, Hotchkiss saw that the negro had beenlaughing at him all the way through, and he resented this attitude morethan another would. He went away in a huff, resolved to leave the negrowith his idols.
This would have been very well, if the matter had stopped there, butEdie put her finger in the pie. One day when Ike was away, she called toHotchkiss as he was passing on his way to town, and invited him into thehouse. There was something about the man that had attracted the wildand untamed passions of the woman. He was not a very handsome man, buthis refinement of manner and speech stood for something, and Edie hadresolved to cultivate his acquaintance. He went in, in response to herinvitation, and found that she desired to ask his advice as to the bestand easiest method of converting Ike into a Union Leaguer. Hotchkissgave her such advice as he could in the most matter-of-fact way, andwent on about his business. Otherwise he paid no more attention to herthan if she had been a sign in front of a cigar-store. Edie was notaccustomed to this sort of thing, and it puzzled her. She went to herlooking-glass and studied her features, thinking that perhaps somethingwas wrong. But her beauty had not even begun to fade. A melancholytenderness shone in her lustrous eyes, her rosy lips curved archly, andthe glow of the peach-bloom was in her cheeks.
"I didn't know the man was a preacher," she said, laughing at herself inthe glass.
Time and again she called Mr. Hotchkiss in as he went by, and on someoccasions they held long consultations at the little gate in front ofher door. Ike was not at all blind to these things; if he had been,there was more than one friendly white man to call his attention tothem. The negro was compelled to measure Hotchkiss by the standard ofthe most of the white men he knew.
He was well aware of Edie's purposes,and he judged that Hotchkiss would presently find them agreeable.
Ike listened to Edie's arguments in behalf of the Union League with agreat deal of patience. Prompted by Hotchkiss, she urged thatmembership in that body would give him an opportunity to serve his racepolitically; he might be able to go to the legislature, and, in thatevent, Edie could go to Atlanta with him, where (she said to herself)she would be able to cut a considerable shine. Moreover, membership inthe league, with his aptitude for making a speech, would give himstanding among the negro leaders all over the State.
Ike argued a little, but not much, considering his feelings. He pointedout that all his customers, the people who ate his cakes and his cream,and so forth and so on, were white, and felt strongly about thesituation. Should they cease their patronage, what would he and Edie dofor victuals to eat and clothes to wear?
"Oh, we'll git along somehow; don't you fret about that," said Edie witha toss of her head.
"Maybe you will, but not me," replied Ike.
At last, however, he had consented to join the league, and appeared tobe very enthusiastic over the matter. As Mr. Hotchkiss went along homethat night--the night on which the young men had gone to the countrydance--he was feeling quite exultant over Ike's conversion, and theenthusiasm he had displayed over the proceedings. After he had decidedto go home rather than wait for Bridalbin, he hunted about in the crowdfor Ike, but the negro was not to be found. As their roads lay in thesame direction Hotchkiss would have been glad of the negro's companyalong the way, and he was somewhat disappointed when he was told thatIke had started for home as soon as the meeting adjourned. Mr. Hotchkissthereupon took the road and went on his way, walking a little morerapidly than usual, in the hope of overtaking Ike. At last, however, hecame to the conclusion that the negro had remained in town. He wassorry, for there was nothing he liked better than to drop gall and venominto the mind of a fairly intelligent negro.
As for Ike, he had his own plans. He had told Edie that in allprobability he wouldn't come home that night, and advised her to get anearby negro woman to stay all night with her. This Edie promised to do.When the league adjourned, Ike lost no time in taking to the road, andfor fear some one might overtake him he went in a dog-trot for the firstmile, and walked rapidly the rest of the way. Before he came to thehouse, he stopped and pulled off his shoes, hiding them in afence-corner. He then left the road, and slipped through the woods untilhe was close to the rear of the house. Here his wariness was redoubled.He wormed himself along like a snake, and crept and crawled, until hewas close enough to see Edie sitting on the front step--there was butone--of their little cabin. He was close enough to see that she had onher Sunday clothes, and he thought he could smell the faint odour ofcologne; he had brought her a bottle home the night before.
He lay concealed for some time, but finally he heard footsteps on theroad, and he rose warily to a standing position. Edie heard thefootsteps too, for she rose and shook out her pink frock, and went tothe gate. The lonely pedestrian came leisurely along the road, having noneed for haste. When he found that it was impossible to overtake Ike,Mr. Hotchkiss ceased to walk rapidly, and regulated his pace by theserenity of the hour and the deliberate movements of nature. The hourwas rapidly approaching when solitude would be at its meridian on thisside of the world, and a mocking-bird not far away was singing it in.
Mr. Hotchkiss would have passed Ike's gate without turning his head, buthe heard a voice softly call his name. He paused, and looked around, andat the gate he saw the figure of Edie. "Is that you, Mr. Hotchkiss? Whatyou do with Ike?"
"Isn't he at home? He started before I did."
"He ain't comin' home to-night, an' I was so lonesome that I had to seton the step here to keep myse'f company," said Edie. "Won't you come inan' rest? I know you must be tired; I got some cold water in here, freshfrom the well."
"No, I'll not stop," replied Mr. Hotchkiss. "It is late, and I must beup early in the morning."
"Well, tell me 'bout Ike," said Edie. "You got 'im in the league allright, I hope?" She came out of the gate, as she said this, and movednearer to Hotchkiss. In her hand she held a flower of some kind, andwith this she toyed in a shamefaced sort of way.
"Mr. Varner is now a member in good standing," replied Hotchkiss, "and Ithink he will do good work for his race and for the party."
Edie moved a step or two nearer to him, toying with her flower. Now, Mr.Hotchkiss was a genuine reformer of the most approved type, and, assuch, he was entitled to as many personal and private fads as he choseto have. He was a vegetarian, holding to the theory that meat is apoison, though he was not averse to pie for breakfast. His pet aversion,leaving alcohol out of the question, was all forms of commercialperfumes. As Edie came close to him, he caught a whiff of hercologne-scented clothes, and his anger rose.
"Why will you ladies," he said, "persist in putting that sort of stuffon you?"
"I dunner what you mean," replied Edie, edging still closer toHotchkiss.
"Why that infernal----"
He never finished the sentence. A pistol-shot rang out, and Hotchkissfell like a log. Edie, fearing a similar fate for herself, ran screamingdown the road, and never paused until she had reached the dwelling ofMahlon Butts. She fell in the door when it was opened and lay on thefloor, moaning and groaning. When she could be persuaded to talk, hervoice could have been heard a mile.
"They've killt him!" she screamed; "they've killt him! an' he was sech agood man! Oh, he was sech a good man!"
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