A Fool's Errand & Bricks without Straw

by Albion Winegar Tourgée

  They could look at danger and death very calmly; but they could not stand forth openly, and face the glare of social proscription. The Fool could not understand it.

  On the other hand, the Southern Unionists could not understand the heedless outspokenness of the Northern man. To them it seemed the very height of folly. It meant proscription, broils, mobs, and innumerable risks which might be avoided by a prudent silence.

  These were the warnings of his friends. He received others shortly afterwards, which impressed him more. He had been accustomed to ride into Verdenton occasionally on business, and when he did so, frequently did not start for home until after sundown, especially if the nights were light; a ride in the Southern summer moonlight being an ever-enjoyable romance to an appreciative nature. One night as he was thus returning to Warrington, the low western moon shining full in his face, he was startled, as he passed through a piece of woodland road, by seeing a man ride out from under a low-growing oak which stood close by the roadside, and call his name. The denseness of the shadow had quite hidden both horse and rider, and the Fool was within a few steps of his interlocutor when he emerged into the moonlight. To draw rein, and take a pistol from his belt, was the work of an instant to the ex-soldier, and entirely an instinctive act.

  "All right, Colonel," said the horseman pleasantly. "I am glad to see that you carry that useful article, and are handy about getting it out; but it is not necessary now. You know me, I reckon."

  "Dr. Gates?" said the Fool inquiringly, as he peered into the shaded face of the horseman, with a blush of shame at having drawn his weapon upon an unknown and undemonstrative wayfarer. "I — ah — you startled me, Doctor, coming from under the tree there; and I have been so long accustomed to an appeal to arms in case of surprise, that I half fancied I had a fight on my hands," he continued half jocosely.

  "No excuses, Colonel: I don't blame you, and am, as I said, glad to see it. One frequently avoids danger by being prepared for it. I want to speak to you a moment."

  "Well?"

  "Come under the tree here," he said, glancing up and down the road. "There's no use standing out there in the moonlight."

  When they were in the shade, the doctor said, —

  "You may think it is none of my business, and so it is not, in fact; but I have just thought that some one ought to tell you, — and as no one else seems to have done so, I thought I would make it my business to let you know, — that you are acting very imprudently."

  "Ah!"

  "Yes: I have noticed, that, when you are in town, you frequently leave about the time you did to-night. Now, you ought to know that your speech, and indeed what you have to say whenever you speak at all in regard to public matters, is very distasteful to our people, especially when they congregate in the town, and get filled up and warmed up."

  "So you think a man can not be allowed to have his own opinions, but must have them countersigned by a committee of his neighbors before he makes them the coin of current speech," said the Fool somewhat sternly.

  "No: I didn't come here to quarrel with your opinions, nor even with your time and manner of declaring them," answered the other. "I am not at all sure that you are not right in your notions. They are certainly very plausible, and to your mind, I doubt not, are quite unanswerable. However, I do think that you might learn a little prudence from the men you associate with. I saw you talking with David Nelson to-day. He is one of those I mean. A better Union man never stood between soil and sunshine; and I'll wager something he advised you to be cautious, not only as to what you said, but when and where you said it."

  "Of course he did!" said the Fool, laughing. "It seems as if all these Union men were afraid to say their souls were their own."

  "If they had not been cautious, their souls would have been all that could be called their own," said the doctor hotly. "I was not a Union man," he continued. "I am half ashamed to say it; for I knew and felt that secession and the Confederacy were simply folly. But the truth is, I had not the nerve: I couldn't stand the pressure. But I practiced here among these Union people, and was also with the army part of the time. I was at Fredericksburg when your people tried to take it; and I tell you now, Colonel, I would rather have come with your fellows across that bare plateau to the foot of St. Marye's Hill than have faced what these Union people here did, day after day, during the whole war. I saw many a strange thing; but I learned to hold my tongue from very admiration of their pluck."

  "No doubt," said the Fool; "but, they seem to have been more thoroughly whipped than you rebels have been. I can not understand why they should not speak out, and show their colors openly, now. Why, only the other day, I was invited to a Union meeting; and, thinking it might be a pleasant thing, I took along a garrison flag which I happened to have, and festooned it over the platform above where the speakers were to stand. In a little while some of the leading men came to me, and asked if I would not have it taken down. They were glad to see it, and all that, they said; but they were afraid it might cause trouble."

  "You did not take it down, of course," said the doctor.

  "You may well say that! I would have died before it should have been lowered an inch. I fought for a right to put it there, and would fight to keep it there," said the Fool warmly.

  "There is not a doubt about that, Colonel," rejoined the other; "and yet it does seem to me, with all respect, that you were foolish to put it there. I can no more understand you than you can understand the Union people about you. Did you ever think that the Union people here are vastly in a minority, and that the rest of us — I mean the mass of our people — regard this needless flaunting of that flag in our faces as an insult and an arrogance on your part? Even your wearing of that old uniform coat, though I am glad to see that you have sacrificed the buttons, is regarded as a taunt. You should remember that you are one of the conquerors, in the midst of the conquered."

  "But I have no hatred, no ill-will, towards any one who wore the gray," said the Fool protestingly.

  "I am sure of that, or I would not have ridden out here to do you a good turn to-night," said the doctor.

  "I do not understand you."

  "I suppose not. But you can understand, that, if I felt confident of meeting you here for a friendly purpose, one who had an unfriendly one might be equally sure of doing so?"

  "Do you mean to say that I might be waylaid?"

  "I mean to say," said the doctor significantly, "that, if I were you, I would not make a habit of traveling any particular road after dark."

  "But" —

  "I shall answer no questions, Colonel, and will bid you good-night." He turned his horse, and was about to ride off, when he drew rein, and said, —

  "You need have no fear to-night, and I suppose I need not request you to say nothing of this meeting. Good-night."

  He gave his horse the rein, and cantered away towards the town with that easy, swaying seat, characteristic of the leisurely, well-to-do Southern man, who has been in the saddle almost every day from his infancy, who rides, not so much for the sake of riding as for covering the ground with the least inconvenience to himself and his horse. When this easy lope had carried the doctor around a bend of the wood, and only the measured thud of the horse's hoofs came back to his ear, the Fool rode out from under the shadow of the water-oak, and made his way thoughtfully homeward. If he scanned the thickets closely, and started when a stray cow burst with considerable noise through the half-lighted under-growth, he may be pardoned, after the repeated warnings of the day.

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE DIE IS CAST

  Table of Contents

  WHEN the time for the election of delegates to a Constitutional Convention was near at hand, the Union men of the county held a meeting to nominate candidates. The colored people, as yet unused to political assemblages, but with an indistinct impression that their rights and interests were involved, attended in large numbers. The Union men were few, and not of that class who were accustomed to the lead and contro
l of such meetings. The place of assembly selected was an old country schoolhouse some two miles from the county-seat, and situated in a beautiful grove. The Fool, partly from curiosity, and partly to give such aid and countenance as he might to a movement which was based upon a recognition and support of the Federal Union as contradistinguished from the idea of voluntary secession and disintegration, attended the meeting, though hardly half-convinced of the practicability and wisdom of the proposed plan of reconstruction. By this time he was well known in the county, and, quite unconsciously to himself, regarded as a leader in the movement. Accustomed to command for four years, and previous to that time imbued with the spirit of ready and hearty co-operation and participation in matters of public interest which is almost the birthright of the Northern citizen, he was vexed and troubled at the retiring hesitancy of the Union men by whom he was surrounded. Why a hundred or a thousand men should come together for a particular purpose, and then "hem and haw," and wait for some one to move first, he could not understand. When he came on the ground, the hour for which the meeting had been appointed had already arrived. The colored people had gathered in a dense mass on one side of the platform, waiting in earnest expectancy to take whatever part might be allotted to them in the performance of the new and untried duties of citizenship. The white men were squatted about in little groups, conversing in low, uneasy tones, and glancing suspiciously at every new-comer. A little at one side was Colonel Ezekiel Vaughn, with a few cronies, laughing and talking boisterously about the different men who were taking part in the movement. This seemed to have a wonderfully depressing effect upon the white Unionists, who evidently dreaded his clamorous ridicule, and feared that some disturbance might ensue, should they attempt to proceed.

  "Well," said the Fool, as he approached a group of a dozen or more, seated in a circle under a giant oak, "why don't you begin?"

  "Hist!" said one of those whom he addressed. "Don't you see those fellows?" at the same time nodding, and winking towards Vaughn and his crowd.

  "See them?" he replied, as he glanced towards them. "Yes. Why?"

  "They've come here for a row," answered the other.

  "Pshaw!" said the Fool. "They don't want any row; but, if they do, let them have it."

  "But we can't do any thing if they have made up their minds to break up the meeting," said the Unionist.

  "Break up the meeting! Fudge! Are we not enough to take care of that squad of non-combatant fire-eaters?"

  "Oh, yes! But then — they would make a heap of trouble," was the reply. "Don't you think we had better put it off, and have a private understanding with our people that they shall come here on a certain day, and be sure and not let Colonel Vaughn or any of his crowd know about it?"

  "No, I don't!" answered the Fool promptly. "If we are going to be cowed and browbeaten out of doing our duty by a crowd of men who never did any thing but talk, we may as well give up and go home. If not, let us stay and do our duty as good citizens."

  "Why don't you open your show, Servosse?" asked Vaughn, in a loud and taunting voice, as he approached the group. "I tell you we are getting mighty tired of waitin'; and them niggers is just bustin' for a chance to begin votin'."

  "Hello, Vaughn!" said the Fool, in a voice equally loud, but more jovial. "Are you here? Then we will begin at once. We were just waiting for the monkey before the show began; but, if you are on hand, we are all ready."

  There was a laugh, and Vaughn retired disconcerted. But one of those with whom the Fool had been conversing drew him aside, and said with great seriousness, —

  "Now, Colonel, you will excuse me; but I am afraid you will get yourself into trouble if you talk to these folks in that way. You see they are not used to it."

  "Then let them get used to it," said the Fool carelessly. "If Vaughn did not want a sharp retort, he should not have made an insolent remark."

  "That's so, Colonel; but you see they are used to doin' and sayin' any thing they choose in regard to people who happen to differ with them. Why, I remember when a man was prosecuted here in this very county for havin' a seditious book — one about slavery, you know — in his possession, and lendin' it to a friend; and people were almost afraid to speak to him, or go bail for him. You Northern people don't know any thing about what we call public opinion here."

  "I'm sure I don't want to know, if it means that a man shall not speak his opinion freely, and throw stones when another throws them at him," said the Fool determinedly.

  "Yet," said the Union man, "it is folly to defy and provoke such a spirit unnecessarily."

  "I agree with you there, my friend," was the Fool's answer. "But, if one has principles which are worth supporting or fighting for, they ought also to be worth standing up for against ridicule and arrogance."

  "It would seem so; but it won't do, — not in this country, anyhow," said the Unionist with a sigh.

  At this point there were symptoms of excitement among the crowd; and a faint, straggling cheer broke out, as Colonel Rhenn rode up, and dismounted from his horse, which he tied to an overhanging bough, and came forward, holding his well-worn beaver in his left hand, bowing, and shaking hands with his neighbors, and returning with slight but grave courtesy the boisterous greeting of the colored people. This arrival at once seemed to give confidence to those who had before evidently regarded the movement as a disagreeable if not a dangerous duty. Nathan Rhenn was a gentleman of a type peculiarly Southern, and exceedingly rare. He was of an old but not now wealthy family. His connections were good, but not high. Before the war he had been in comfortable circumstances only: now he was actually poor. Yet at no time had he abated one jot of that innate gentility which had always marked his deportment. He was clad now in "butter-nut-gray" homespun, wore black woolen gloves on his hands, a high black stock on his neck, with a high, narrow-brimmed, and rather dingy beaver hat, and would have been a figure highly provocative of mirth, had it not been for his considerate, graceful, and self-respecting courtesy. Since the meeting at which he presided, when the Fool made his maiden speech upon a political question, Colonel Rhenn had rarely attended public meetings, and was known as one whose status (despite his former Unionism, which was unquestioned) was very doubtful. He was known to be one who would not have attended the meeting unless he intended to give in his adhesion to the cause which it had assembled to promote. He was considered, therefore, an accession of very great importance, by those who were present, to the cause of Reconstruction. Hardly had he greeted his many friends, when some one arose and said, —

  "I nominate Nathan Rhenn as chairman of this meeting."

  It was unanimously concurred in; and the new arrival, with many grave bows and protestations, permitted himself to be led to the platform. Upon taking his seat as chairman, he made a brief speech, in substance as follows: —

  "FELLOW-CITIZENS, — I have come here to-day for the purpose of giving my support and countenance to a movement in support of what are known as the Reconstruction Acts, which I presume to be the reason that you have honored me by making me your chairman. As you are well aware, I have always been a Union man. I believe that under all circumstances, and by all persons and parties, I have been accorded that distinction. At the same time, I have never been, or been considered, an abolitionist. I was a slaveholder, and belonged to a race of slaveholders, and never felt any conscientious scruples at remaining such. I did not pass upon slavery, it is true, as a new or an abstract question, but considered it as I found it, solely in relation to myself. I did not buy nor sell, except when I bought a woman that she might not be sold away from her husband, and sold one man, at his own request, that he might go with his wife. The act of buying and selling human beings, I admit, was repulsive to me; but I accepted the institution as I found it, and did not feel called upon to attempt its overthrow. In the attempt which was made to disrupt the government, this institution has been destroyed; and it is the question in regard to the future political relations of those who were, as it were, but yesterday slaves,
which produces the present differences of opinion among our people, and promises future contact. If it were the simple question whether we should now be restored to the American Union, and take our place as one of the co-ordinate States, which we had to decide, there would be no difference of opinion. Only an insignificant minority of our people would oppose such restoration upon any terms which did not embrace the conferring of political power upon the freed people. Many think this an unwise and impracticable measure: others believe it to be imposed upon us by the conquerors, simply as an act of wanton and gross insult, for the purpose of adding to the degradation of an already humiliated foe. The fact, also, that every one who had been an officer of the old government, and then served the Confederacy in any voluntary capacity, is barred from the right of suffrage, while his recent slave is given the power to vote, occasions much ill feeling. While I deem the exclusion wise and necessary, though it must strike some who are undeserving, I confess that I have had my fears in regard to the latter measure. After mature and earnest reflection, however, I have become satisfied, that, at the least, the best thing we can do is to accept what is offered, show our willingness to submit to whatever may be deemed wise and proper, and trust that the future may establish the right. Therefore I have come here to-day to co-operate with you. And now, gentlemen, what is your pleasure?"

  For once there was a scarcity of candidates. No one seemed to desire a position which promised to be onerous, without honor, and of little profit; which it was felt would cast odium upon the individual, and social and religious ostracism upon his family. The names of the chairman and another were submitted; but the chairman stated that, having been a member of the Legislature before the war, and a justice of the peace during the Confederacy, he believed himself disqualified. Then the Fool's name was substituted for that of the chairman, and the nomination was made.