CHAPTER IV.LEGAL REDRESS.‘O thou dread Power! whose empire-giving handHas oft been stretched to shield the honored land!’Sotrivial a quarrel as that narrated in the closing part of our last chapter, had it occurred elsewhere than in a community in which the inhabitants had so recently sustained the relations of masters and slaves, would scarcely have elicited remark upon a subsequent day; but over the three or four hundred colored, and forty or fifty white residents of Baconsville there settled a dark cloud of anxiety and apprehension of coming evil.Angry looks and threats of violence on the part of the whites were recalled and anxiously discussed by the colored people, as were also the recent and frequently expressed determination to “carry the next election for the Democratic Party, if even through blood waist deep,” though the colored voters were largely in the majority, and almost without exception, if unintimidated, voted the Republican ticket.These, with the oft-repeated boast that the illegal Rifle Clubs, trained cavalry companies, were ready to co-operate for the suppression and utter dispersion of this colored company of State militia, with the fact that similar acts of violence were by no means new experiences to the ex-slavesin the South, but were even then being perpetrated in the surrounding country, made the outlook for the colored population gloomy, indeed.On the other hand, the officers of the town, with the single exception of our friend Marmor, were all of the colored race, and as he was a Republican native, he was even more repugnant to his white neighbors than a “nigger.”On the other hand, during the two months preceding this encounter, these militia-men were known to have been drilling as often as once or twice a week, though the law required such practice but once a month. This alarmed the whites, with whom anticipations of “insurrections” are still either congenital or feigned.In the days of slavery, and also by the South Carolina “Black Code” (the only exclusively white legislation in the State since reconstruction), arms were strictly forbidden to the negroes, and under heavy penalties; yet, through the subsequent Republican legislation, they rejoiced in being the “National Guards,” bearing the same flag which Sherman “carried down to the sea,” and under which Captain Doc learned tactics and heroism in the “Black Regiment,” which once swept over Fort Fisher, and closed the last port of the rebellious States.What signified it to those conscience-accused whites that these were poor men maneuvering by the light of the moon to save the expense of lighting their drill room; and, unable to spare time from their toil, they took it from the hours oftheir rest, to prepare for a creditable performance on the Nation’s Centennial birthday? So much the worse. The Fourth of July was the birthday of the “national nonsense” that “all men are created equal;” and it was not the fault or credit of these white men that there was left a nation to celebrate its Centennial.Now that the sole militia of the State was enrolled from this emancipated race (white men would not enlist under charters, because unassured that they should not be subordinated to colored officers, and they might be required to sustain a State government of the colored majority), how should one expect the former masters to be content and at ease, even though no concerted outbreak had ever occurred among the freedmen, whose temper is naturally peaceable and timid even to servility?Undoubtedly, the fears of those once reputed hard masters, or who still find it difficult to conform to the new conditions, are often distressing. They are also nature’s incontrovertible testimony to the wisdom and divine origin of equal rights.Great was the excitement of the Baker families when the young men arrived with the tale of their “narrow escape from the militia men.”Early the next morning, the old slave-hunter and his three sons set out for the office of Trial Justice Rives, who, though a colored man, it was thought could be more easily induced to meet out punishment to those miserable offenders, than Louis Marmor, who was the only other competentmagistrate in the town.Of course, as has been the custom of the whites there, from the earliest settlement of that country, these gentlemen all wore their side-arms, and for greater safety these were put into the very best condition, and fully loaded, as they suspected the Town Marshal, who ran after them on the previous evening, might attempt a counter-arrest for the same offense.Young Tommy did not feel quite safe from Dan Pipsie without his eighteen-shooting rifle in addition; and so, with it in hand, he mounted his young bay horse, while beside him rode his brother-in-law, Harry Gaston,—the best shot in town, bearing also his carbine; while the father and his eldest son, Hanson, were seated in a light wagon in which were placed additional firearms, lightly covered with a lap-robe.Thus equipped, they proceeded in safety, through the quiet little village to the Justice’s office; and finding it closed, went two miles further on, to his plantation, and returned with him to his office; quite a formidable party to be sure. Arrived there, they entered complaints against Dan Pipsie for threats to kill, and against the officers of the Militia Company for “obstructing the highway.”The Justice, being himself Major-general of that division of the State Militia, after thoughtfully scratching his crispy locks awhile, said:“I reckon it is best to hear astatementof the testimony,and then decide whether it is a case for court-martialing, or for trial under thecivil law.”Ten o’clock of the next morning was fixed as the time for hearing the case.At that hour Justice Rives was found seated behind his desk, and busily examining papers and documents.The Bakers made their appearance, accompanied by a few friends, among whom were two professional men—a Reverend, and an M. D.; though not with compresses and consolations for the possible wounded and dying, (for South Carolina chivalry does not fight its duels with “niggers,”) but with bail money (modified from bullets), should that counter-arrest, which they feared, be attempted.Automatically, or through force of habit, each race in the southern States still assumes, in assemblies, the positions and attitudes imposed in the days of slavery. In the churches of the colored people one or more of the most desirable seats are reserved for whites, and these often remain vacant, or nearly so, during a lengthy service, while church members stand to exhaustion for want of seats.Hence, the front seats of Gen. Justice Rives’ court-room were occupied by the plaintiffs and their friends, and the defendants and their friends sat at a respectful distance in the rear, while a number of boys and women of color gathered outside of the door.The magistrate, who had not altogether escaped the envy of his less fortunate neighbors, had often been accused by them of a sycophantic weakness for the approval of thewhites; while the latter declared that justice could not be obtained by them before a colored officer, and that, as a political canvass was approaching, they would not again submit to negro magistrates.He therefore felt his position peculiarly trying, especially when he saw that they were all thoroughly armed.He held both his official positions by appointments of the Governor, to be sure; yet he knew that the preponderance of wealth, intelligence and bravery was with the white race; while at the same time he did not forget that if “a traitor to his race,” he would probably, through ostracism and insult, reap a bitter retribution from his own people.A peace warrant was, however, soon issued against Dan Pipsie, his “Daddy” being present to give bail for his future good behavior. Then, with some apparent reluctance and nervousness, the Justice called the principal case.Mr. Watta arose and announced that lawyer Kanrasp, from the county seat would appear for the defense.To this Robert Baker strenuously objected, as, not having been advised that attorneys would be employed, he had none. He therefore asked a postponement of the case.Kanrasp then suggested to his client that inasmuch as the proceedings had thus far been very informal—the paper served being neither a writ nor summons, and not at all a legal paper—he would withdraw from the case, and let Rives take judgment if he chose, when the case could be appealed to the Superior Court, where justice might be had.This he did on account of the extreme indignation manifested by the Bakers and their friends.Gaston, who was a shriveled, weason-faced specimen of thegenus homo, with sandy hair, flaming whiskers, and a face in which whiskey held a profusion of freckles in purple solution, was the first to testify, which he did in accordance with his views of the affair.“Now, Captain,” said the Judge, when Gaston had finished, “as you have no counsel, you may question the witness if you want to.”Captain Doc was a well-made, medium sized and shrewd man, little less than forty years of age, with very dark complexion, having three-fourths African blood.He arose from his seat quite slowly, and squarely fronting Gaston, asked:“Mr. Gaston, did I treat yo’ with any disrespect when I spoke to yo’? Didn’t I treat yo’ politely?”“I ca’n’t say that you treated me with any disrespect; but I can say this much, that there was two or three members of your company that showed some impudence to me, and I also saw them load their guns.”“Mr. Gaston,” replied the Captain, looking searchingly in the eyes of the little man, “didn’t yo’ see me examining the cartridge-boxes and the pockets of the company, to see if they had any ammunition before we went on drill?”“Yes, I did.”“Did yo’ see any?”“No.”“Idid. I found one man with a cartridge in his pocket, and I took it away, and scolded him about it.”Gaston replied, “Yes, I saw that.”“Well then, are yo’certainthat these men loaded their guns?”“I saw them moving them, and I thought they were loading them.”“And so yo’ came here toswearthat we wanted to kill yo’? That’s about as much as a colored man can get for his care not to give offense. A man is a fool to go out of his way for any of yo’ white folks anyway. Yo’ had no right to aim to drive through our Company as yo’ did; but when I gave in and got out of yo’r way, and let you go ‘long—gave yo’ the road that b’longed to us—yo’ just come heah with such a lie as that against us.”“Captain, I don’t want you to treat my court with contempt,” said Rives, severely. “If you can’t address the gentleman more politely you must sit down.”“Judge, I don’t mean no contempt,” said Doc, in a conciliatory tone, “not if I know myself. I never expect to treat no lawful court with any contempt. I was only asking questions, but if the questions is not legal, then I don’t want to ask him. I won’t ask no mo’, but leave it to yo’r discretion,” and he sat down.“Well, sir, to sit down without permission is contempt of court.”With such an air of drollery as only a negro can assume, Doc sprung to his feet again, saying—“Yo’ mus’ pardon me sah. I’s not accustomed to law offices. If sitting down or anything else is contempt, I’m asking yo’r pardon this minute; for I didn’t mean to contempt this court.”“It is contempt, sir!” thundered the judge, “and I put you under arrest, and dismiss this court till July the 8th at four o’clock in the evening.”Some protestations were made on account of the lateness of the hour, but Rives insisted he could not leave his plantation labor earlier, and immediately declared the court adjourned.Neither the day nor hour was satisfactory to the complainants, as it was on Saturday afternoon, when many country negroes were certain to visit the village shops, stores, and market; but as the whites were more generally masters of their own time, it is possible Rives feared he might need the presence and support of his own race should he not condemn the accused.Harry Gaston was enraged and strutted about like a bantam cock; his face became almost livid, and his hands nervously bobbed in and out of the breast pockets of his short coat, where rested a well-prepared pistol on one side, and a flask of whiskey on the other. Alas, theflaskknew little rest.“I pray you be calm, my dear nephew,” said the Reverend Mr. Mealy, who, though inwardlyseething, was so enswathed in his own innate mealiness, that he was measurably cool. “Do not allow this degraded black to disturb you.Remember your position in society. You have been raised by me as my own son. Do not disgrace yourself and me by condescending to dispute with one in his station, and of his color,” and grasping the young man’s arm, he moved towards the door.Lieutenant Watta, who had been sitting beside his Captain, now sprung to his feet, and grasping Doc’s arm, rushed towards the door, attempting to lead him out.Doc, however, hung back, and having extricated himself, said in a low tone, “Watta, keep cool!” and he sat down again.“I won’t keep cool!” retorted the lieutenant. This white-livered judge has shown partiality. Look at the arms in this court room! and Rives is afraid!” (with a sneer.) “They may shed my blood if they can, but I won’t keep still and see my captain arrested for contempt just because in questioning, he got ahead of these unrebuked and cowardly bullies when you humbled us all, on the Fourth of July, to avoid a fuss and concilliate their lordships;” and the enraged man strode out of the building, threw the gate back upon its hinges, and standing in the opening thus made, drew himself to his full height, and threw out his empty palms exclaiming“I carry no arms; but we’ve got arms.”“Yes, you’ve got arms, but you’ll see how it’ll be yourselves!” said Hanson Baker, who had been haranguing the people outside the court house. “There’s a fellow from Texas here, two or more of ’em, and they’regoing to kill that Town Marshall, and nobody isn’t going to know who done it, and then they’ll leave.”“What does he or they know about John Carr, the Marshall?” asked a very large, but irresolute-looking black man.“He’s been informed of his character, and I tell you John Carr won’t be living in this town three months, neither will some o’ the rest.”“How about that Harmony Case?” asked the same voice (a case of massacre of blacks).“Well, I wasn’t there, but they done it, and there’s a programme laid down for the white folksthisyear.”“That is wrong,” said a voice.“Well, if itiswrong, it is no matter; it’ll be done all the same. There is no laws now.”“Ha! ha!” laughed the crowd, the whites applauding, and the blacks deriding the threats.“Does yo’ pretend to say there a’n’t no law in the State now?”“No, there a’n’t no law in this State, nor any other State. It’s been a hundred years since the Constitution of the United States, and it’s played out now, and every man can do as he likes. We’re going to get Chamberlain and his crowd out o’ the State House.”“How about Grant? You know he’s President.”“By——! we’ll have him too.”“Take care, that is treason,” said another.Harrison Baker and Watta proceeded, each with his harangue, and paid no heed to each other, till the plaintiffsand their friends crowded out of the building, pistols in hand, ready for instantaneous use.A frightened old mammy bawled out, with great eyes rolling, and great hands waving, “See the pistols and guns! See the pistols and guns! Oh, Lor’! they ort to be shot down theirselves!” but the next instant she cowered under the same fierce gaze of the “old man Baker,” which had made many a stalwart runaway stand tamely after the dogs were taken off and while the shackles were put on.“Uncle, Uncle, let me go,” said Gaston impatiently, striving to free himself from that worthy’s grasp. “I want to shut that yellow chap’s mouth with this little bit of lead. The judge ought to arresthim, but I’ll take his case if you’ll let me go, I’ll give him a mouthful to chaw!”“Shut my mouth, would you?” retorted Watta, who had caught the words as the two men approached the door. “You’ll find that hard business before you are through with it, if you try. The whites have ruled us long enough. Two hundred and fifty years they bought and sold us like cattle, till the United States set us free; and since then, colored citizens have been tied and whipped, and shot, and murdered in cold blood, and driven from their homes, and their property destroyed, to this day. But it is all no matter here before this white-livered judge. It’ll take a regiment to tie and whipme, or spill what black bloodIhave.”“Do not speak to him, my nephew,” said the Rev. Mr. Mealy.“A regiment!” cried Gaston, with a sneer. “Let me go and whip him myself;” but the readiness with which he yielded to the pressure of his uncle’s hands, was amusingly in contrast with his words.“We will have this matter settled by law now, and know whether we are to be run over in this way. We will know which are to rule this place—the blacks or the whites,” said Rev. Mr. Mealy. “We’ll know what rights this militia company have. They have got an idea that they can do whatever they please. We’ll have it settled now.”“This court is a mockery of justice,” continued Watta. “Look at those arms on the side of wealth, and an unarmed poor man arrested for contempt, because he has a dark skin and cornered his opponent by lawful questions. The next time a white swell rides into our ranks while we are on parade we will see that he doesn’t take us to court for obstructing his way.”Rev. Mr. Mealy, Dr. Shall, and General Rives were active and nearest in efforts to control the now highly incensed Baker family and Gaston; and an influential colored man succeeded in getting Watta out of the street. With deep muttered threats and oaths, the Bakers and their friends at length betook themselves to their conveyances and their homes.Captain Doc conversed with the constable, in the justice’s office, while the latter official went to his dinner and returned. Re-entering, Rives approached, and extending his hand said good-humoredly, “Shake hands Doc.”“I don’t know,” replied he, with averted eyes.“Yes, you will. I couldn’t help it. You was bearing on so hard that they would have shot you in two minutes more. I did it to save you.”“Is that so, judge? Then here’s my hand. I didn’t mean no contempt; but if I’ve contempted you, or your court I’m sorry.”“That’s all right now, and I’ll remit the fine. Now let me tell you, you’d best settle this matter somehow, if it is possible. I’m afraid trouble will come of this. I wish Watta had ’a’ kept still.”“So do I. He’s a marked man now, shor’, and his life an’t worth much,” said Nat Wellman, the constable.“Settle it?” said Capt. Doc. “Major General Rives, nothing will settle it but to let the company be broken up. I won’t do that, and my oath to the State, that I have taken as Captain, wonldn’t let me if I wanted to.”“I can’t see the end of this yet, I can’t,” said the Judge, with a sigh, as the trio separated.
CHAPTER IV.LEGAL REDRESS.‘O thou dread Power! whose empire-giving handHas oft been stretched to shield the honored land!’Sotrivial a quarrel as that narrated in the closing part of our last chapter, had it occurred elsewhere than in a community in which the inhabitants had so recently sustained the relations of masters and slaves, would scarcely have elicited remark upon a subsequent day; but over the three or four hundred colored, and forty or fifty white residents of Baconsville there settled a dark cloud of anxiety and apprehension of coming evil.Angry looks and threats of violence on the part of the whites were recalled and anxiously discussed by the colored people, as were also the recent and frequently expressed determination to “carry the next election for the Democratic Party, if even through blood waist deep,” though the colored voters were largely in the majority, and almost without exception, if unintimidated, voted the Republican ticket.These, with the oft-repeated boast that the illegal Rifle Clubs, trained cavalry companies, were ready to co-operate for the suppression and utter dispersion of this colored company of State militia, with the fact that similar acts of violence were by no means new experiences to the ex-slavesin the South, but were even then being perpetrated in the surrounding country, made the outlook for the colored population gloomy, indeed.On the other hand, the officers of the town, with the single exception of our friend Marmor, were all of the colored race, and as he was a Republican native, he was even more repugnant to his white neighbors than a “nigger.”On the other hand, during the two months preceding this encounter, these militia-men were known to have been drilling as often as once or twice a week, though the law required such practice but once a month. This alarmed the whites, with whom anticipations of “insurrections” are still either congenital or feigned.In the days of slavery, and also by the South Carolina “Black Code” (the only exclusively white legislation in the State since reconstruction), arms were strictly forbidden to the negroes, and under heavy penalties; yet, through the subsequent Republican legislation, they rejoiced in being the “National Guards,” bearing the same flag which Sherman “carried down to the sea,” and under which Captain Doc learned tactics and heroism in the “Black Regiment,” which once swept over Fort Fisher, and closed the last port of the rebellious States.What signified it to those conscience-accused whites that these were poor men maneuvering by the light of the moon to save the expense of lighting their drill room; and, unable to spare time from their toil, they took it from the hours oftheir rest, to prepare for a creditable performance on the Nation’s Centennial birthday? So much the worse. The Fourth of July was the birthday of the “national nonsense” that “all men are created equal;” and it was not the fault or credit of these white men that there was left a nation to celebrate its Centennial.Now that the sole militia of the State was enrolled from this emancipated race (white men would not enlist under charters, because unassured that they should not be subordinated to colored officers, and they might be required to sustain a State government of the colored majority), how should one expect the former masters to be content and at ease, even though no concerted outbreak had ever occurred among the freedmen, whose temper is naturally peaceable and timid even to servility?Undoubtedly, the fears of those once reputed hard masters, or who still find it difficult to conform to the new conditions, are often distressing. They are also nature’s incontrovertible testimony to the wisdom and divine origin of equal rights.Great was the excitement of the Baker families when the young men arrived with the tale of their “narrow escape from the militia men.”Early the next morning, the old slave-hunter and his three sons set out for the office of Trial Justice Rives, who, though a colored man, it was thought could be more easily induced to meet out punishment to those miserable offenders, than Louis Marmor, who was the only other competentmagistrate in the town.Of course, as has been the custom of the whites there, from the earliest settlement of that country, these gentlemen all wore their side-arms, and for greater safety these were put into the very best condition, and fully loaded, as they suspected the Town Marshal, who ran after them on the previous evening, might attempt a counter-arrest for the same offense.Young Tommy did not feel quite safe from Dan Pipsie without his eighteen-shooting rifle in addition; and so, with it in hand, he mounted his young bay horse, while beside him rode his brother-in-law, Harry Gaston,—the best shot in town, bearing also his carbine; while the father and his eldest son, Hanson, were seated in a light wagon in which were placed additional firearms, lightly covered with a lap-robe.Thus equipped, they proceeded in safety, through the quiet little village to the Justice’s office; and finding it closed, went two miles further on, to his plantation, and returned with him to his office; quite a formidable party to be sure. Arrived there, they entered complaints against Dan Pipsie for threats to kill, and against the officers of the Militia Company for “obstructing the highway.”The Justice, being himself Major-general of that division of the State Militia, after thoughtfully scratching his crispy locks awhile, said:“I reckon it is best to hear astatementof the testimony,and then decide whether it is a case for court-martialing, or for trial under thecivil law.”Ten o’clock of the next morning was fixed as the time for hearing the case.At that hour Justice Rives was found seated behind his desk, and busily examining papers and documents.The Bakers made their appearance, accompanied by a few friends, among whom were two professional men—a Reverend, and an M. D.; though not with compresses and consolations for the possible wounded and dying, (for South Carolina chivalry does not fight its duels with “niggers,”) but with bail money (modified from bullets), should that counter-arrest, which they feared, be attempted.Automatically, or through force of habit, each race in the southern States still assumes, in assemblies, the positions and attitudes imposed in the days of slavery. In the churches of the colored people one or more of the most desirable seats are reserved for whites, and these often remain vacant, or nearly so, during a lengthy service, while church members stand to exhaustion for want of seats.Hence, the front seats of Gen. Justice Rives’ court-room were occupied by the plaintiffs and their friends, and the defendants and their friends sat at a respectful distance in the rear, while a number of boys and women of color gathered outside of the door.The magistrate, who had not altogether escaped the envy of his less fortunate neighbors, had often been accused by them of a sycophantic weakness for the approval of thewhites; while the latter declared that justice could not be obtained by them before a colored officer, and that, as a political canvass was approaching, they would not again submit to negro magistrates.He therefore felt his position peculiarly trying, especially when he saw that they were all thoroughly armed.He held both his official positions by appointments of the Governor, to be sure; yet he knew that the preponderance of wealth, intelligence and bravery was with the white race; while at the same time he did not forget that if “a traitor to his race,” he would probably, through ostracism and insult, reap a bitter retribution from his own people.A peace warrant was, however, soon issued against Dan Pipsie, his “Daddy” being present to give bail for his future good behavior. Then, with some apparent reluctance and nervousness, the Justice called the principal case.Mr. Watta arose and announced that lawyer Kanrasp, from the county seat would appear for the defense.To this Robert Baker strenuously objected, as, not having been advised that attorneys would be employed, he had none. He therefore asked a postponement of the case.Kanrasp then suggested to his client that inasmuch as the proceedings had thus far been very informal—the paper served being neither a writ nor summons, and not at all a legal paper—he would withdraw from the case, and let Rives take judgment if he chose, when the case could be appealed to the Superior Court, where justice might be had.This he did on account of the extreme indignation manifested by the Bakers and their friends.Gaston, who was a shriveled, weason-faced specimen of thegenus homo, with sandy hair, flaming whiskers, and a face in which whiskey held a profusion of freckles in purple solution, was the first to testify, which he did in accordance with his views of the affair.“Now, Captain,” said the Judge, when Gaston had finished, “as you have no counsel, you may question the witness if you want to.”Captain Doc was a well-made, medium sized and shrewd man, little less than forty years of age, with very dark complexion, having three-fourths African blood.He arose from his seat quite slowly, and squarely fronting Gaston, asked:“Mr. Gaston, did I treat yo’ with any disrespect when I spoke to yo’? Didn’t I treat yo’ politely?”“I ca’n’t say that you treated me with any disrespect; but I can say this much, that there was two or three members of your company that showed some impudence to me, and I also saw them load their guns.”“Mr. Gaston,” replied the Captain, looking searchingly in the eyes of the little man, “didn’t yo’ see me examining the cartridge-boxes and the pockets of the company, to see if they had any ammunition before we went on drill?”“Yes, I did.”“Did yo’ see any?”“No.”“Idid. I found one man with a cartridge in his pocket, and I took it away, and scolded him about it.”Gaston replied, “Yes, I saw that.”“Well then, are yo’certainthat these men loaded their guns?”“I saw them moving them, and I thought they were loading them.”“And so yo’ came here toswearthat we wanted to kill yo’? That’s about as much as a colored man can get for his care not to give offense. A man is a fool to go out of his way for any of yo’ white folks anyway. Yo’ had no right to aim to drive through our Company as yo’ did; but when I gave in and got out of yo’r way, and let you go ‘long—gave yo’ the road that b’longed to us—yo’ just come heah with such a lie as that against us.”“Captain, I don’t want you to treat my court with contempt,” said Rives, severely. “If you can’t address the gentleman more politely you must sit down.”“Judge, I don’t mean no contempt,” said Doc, in a conciliatory tone, “not if I know myself. I never expect to treat no lawful court with any contempt. I was only asking questions, but if the questions is not legal, then I don’t want to ask him. I won’t ask no mo’, but leave it to yo’r discretion,” and he sat down.“Well, sir, to sit down without permission is contempt of court.”With such an air of drollery as only a negro can assume, Doc sprung to his feet again, saying—“Yo’ mus’ pardon me sah. I’s not accustomed to law offices. If sitting down or anything else is contempt, I’m asking yo’r pardon this minute; for I didn’t mean to contempt this court.”“It is contempt, sir!” thundered the judge, “and I put you under arrest, and dismiss this court till July the 8th at four o’clock in the evening.”Some protestations were made on account of the lateness of the hour, but Rives insisted he could not leave his plantation labor earlier, and immediately declared the court adjourned.Neither the day nor hour was satisfactory to the complainants, as it was on Saturday afternoon, when many country negroes were certain to visit the village shops, stores, and market; but as the whites were more generally masters of their own time, it is possible Rives feared he might need the presence and support of his own race should he not condemn the accused.Harry Gaston was enraged and strutted about like a bantam cock; his face became almost livid, and his hands nervously bobbed in and out of the breast pockets of his short coat, where rested a well-prepared pistol on one side, and a flask of whiskey on the other. Alas, theflaskknew little rest.“I pray you be calm, my dear nephew,” said the Reverend Mr. Mealy, who, though inwardlyseething, was so enswathed in his own innate mealiness, that he was measurably cool. “Do not allow this degraded black to disturb you.Remember your position in society. You have been raised by me as my own son. Do not disgrace yourself and me by condescending to dispute with one in his station, and of his color,” and grasping the young man’s arm, he moved towards the door.Lieutenant Watta, who had been sitting beside his Captain, now sprung to his feet, and grasping Doc’s arm, rushed towards the door, attempting to lead him out.Doc, however, hung back, and having extricated himself, said in a low tone, “Watta, keep cool!” and he sat down again.“I won’t keep cool!” retorted the lieutenant. This white-livered judge has shown partiality. Look at the arms in this court room! and Rives is afraid!” (with a sneer.) “They may shed my blood if they can, but I won’t keep still and see my captain arrested for contempt just because in questioning, he got ahead of these unrebuked and cowardly bullies when you humbled us all, on the Fourth of July, to avoid a fuss and concilliate their lordships;” and the enraged man strode out of the building, threw the gate back upon its hinges, and standing in the opening thus made, drew himself to his full height, and threw out his empty palms exclaiming“I carry no arms; but we’ve got arms.”“Yes, you’ve got arms, but you’ll see how it’ll be yourselves!” said Hanson Baker, who had been haranguing the people outside the court house. “There’s a fellow from Texas here, two or more of ’em, and they’regoing to kill that Town Marshall, and nobody isn’t going to know who done it, and then they’ll leave.”“What does he or they know about John Carr, the Marshall?” asked a very large, but irresolute-looking black man.“He’s been informed of his character, and I tell you John Carr won’t be living in this town three months, neither will some o’ the rest.”“How about that Harmony Case?” asked the same voice (a case of massacre of blacks).“Well, I wasn’t there, but they done it, and there’s a programme laid down for the white folksthisyear.”“That is wrong,” said a voice.“Well, if itiswrong, it is no matter; it’ll be done all the same. There is no laws now.”“Ha! ha!” laughed the crowd, the whites applauding, and the blacks deriding the threats.“Does yo’ pretend to say there a’n’t no law in the State now?”“No, there a’n’t no law in this State, nor any other State. It’s been a hundred years since the Constitution of the United States, and it’s played out now, and every man can do as he likes. We’re going to get Chamberlain and his crowd out o’ the State House.”“How about Grant? You know he’s President.”“By——! we’ll have him too.”“Take care, that is treason,” said another.Harrison Baker and Watta proceeded, each with his harangue, and paid no heed to each other, till the plaintiffsand their friends crowded out of the building, pistols in hand, ready for instantaneous use.A frightened old mammy bawled out, with great eyes rolling, and great hands waving, “See the pistols and guns! See the pistols and guns! Oh, Lor’! they ort to be shot down theirselves!” but the next instant she cowered under the same fierce gaze of the “old man Baker,” which had made many a stalwart runaway stand tamely after the dogs were taken off and while the shackles were put on.“Uncle, Uncle, let me go,” said Gaston impatiently, striving to free himself from that worthy’s grasp. “I want to shut that yellow chap’s mouth with this little bit of lead. The judge ought to arresthim, but I’ll take his case if you’ll let me go, I’ll give him a mouthful to chaw!”“Shut my mouth, would you?” retorted Watta, who had caught the words as the two men approached the door. “You’ll find that hard business before you are through with it, if you try. The whites have ruled us long enough. Two hundred and fifty years they bought and sold us like cattle, till the United States set us free; and since then, colored citizens have been tied and whipped, and shot, and murdered in cold blood, and driven from their homes, and their property destroyed, to this day. But it is all no matter here before this white-livered judge. It’ll take a regiment to tie and whipme, or spill what black bloodIhave.”“Do not speak to him, my nephew,” said the Rev. Mr. Mealy.“A regiment!” cried Gaston, with a sneer. “Let me go and whip him myself;” but the readiness with which he yielded to the pressure of his uncle’s hands, was amusingly in contrast with his words.“We will have this matter settled by law now, and know whether we are to be run over in this way. We will know which are to rule this place—the blacks or the whites,” said Rev. Mr. Mealy. “We’ll know what rights this militia company have. They have got an idea that they can do whatever they please. We’ll have it settled now.”“This court is a mockery of justice,” continued Watta. “Look at those arms on the side of wealth, and an unarmed poor man arrested for contempt, because he has a dark skin and cornered his opponent by lawful questions. The next time a white swell rides into our ranks while we are on parade we will see that he doesn’t take us to court for obstructing his way.”Rev. Mr. Mealy, Dr. Shall, and General Rives were active and nearest in efforts to control the now highly incensed Baker family and Gaston; and an influential colored man succeeded in getting Watta out of the street. With deep muttered threats and oaths, the Bakers and their friends at length betook themselves to their conveyances and their homes.Captain Doc conversed with the constable, in the justice’s office, while the latter official went to his dinner and returned. Re-entering, Rives approached, and extending his hand said good-humoredly, “Shake hands Doc.”“I don’t know,” replied he, with averted eyes.“Yes, you will. I couldn’t help it. You was bearing on so hard that they would have shot you in two minutes more. I did it to save you.”“Is that so, judge? Then here’s my hand. I didn’t mean no contempt; but if I’ve contempted you, or your court I’m sorry.”“That’s all right now, and I’ll remit the fine. Now let me tell you, you’d best settle this matter somehow, if it is possible. I’m afraid trouble will come of this. I wish Watta had ’a’ kept still.”“So do I. He’s a marked man now, shor’, and his life an’t worth much,” said Nat Wellman, the constable.“Settle it?” said Capt. Doc. “Major General Rives, nothing will settle it but to let the company be broken up. I won’t do that, and my oath to the State, that I have taken as Captain, wonldn’t let me if I wanted to.”“I can’t see the end of this yet, I can’t,” said the Judge, with a sigh, as the trio separated.
‘O thou dread Power! whose empire-giving handHas oft been stretched to shield the honored land!’
Sotrivial a quarrel as that narrated in the closing part of our last chapter, had it occurred elsewhere than in a community in which the inhabitants had so recently sustained the relations of masters and slaves, would scarcely have elicited remark upon a subsequent day; but over the three or four hundred colored, and forty or fifty white residents of Baconsville there settled a dark cloud of anxiety and apprehension of coming evil.
Angry looks and threats of violence on the part of the whites were recalled and anxiously discussed by the colored people, as were also the recent and frequently expressed determination to “carry the next election for the Democratic Party, if even through blood waist deep,” though the colored voters were largely in the majority, and almost without exception, if unintimidated, voted the Republican ticket.
These, with the oft-repeated boast that the illegal Rifle Clubs, trained cavalry companies, were ready to co-operate for the suppression and utter dispersion of this colored company of State militia, with the fact that similar acts of violence were by no means new experiences to the ex-slavesin the South, but were even then being perpetrated in the surrounding country, made the outlook for the colored population gloomy, indeed.
On the other hand, the officers of the town, with the single exception of our friend Marmor, were all of the colored race, and as he was a Republican native, he was even more repugnant to his white neighbors than a “nigger.”
On the other hand, during the two months preceding this encounter, these militia-men were known to have been drilling as often as once or twice a week, though the law required such practice but once a month. This alarmed the whites, with whom anticipations of “insurrections” are still either congenital or feigned.
In the days of slavery, and also by the South Carolina “Black Code” (the only exclusively white legislation in the State since reconstruction), arms were strictly forbidden to the negroes, and under heavy penalties; yet, through the subsequent Republican legislation, they rejoiced in being the “National Guards,” bearing the same flag which Sherman “carried down to the sea,” and under which Captain Doc learned tactics and heroism in the “Black Regiment,” which once swept over Fort Fisher, and closed the last port of the rebellious States.
What signified it to those conscience-accused whites that these were poor men maneuvering by the light of the moon to save the expense of lighting their drill room; and, unable to spare time from their toil, they took it from the hours oftheir rest, to prepare for a creditable performance on the Nation’s Centennial birthday? So much the worse. The Fourth of July was the birthday of the “national nonsense” that “all men are created equal;” and it was not the fault or credit of these white men that there was left a nation to celebrate its Centennial.
Now that the sole militia of the State was enrolled from this emancipated race (white men would not enlist under charters, because unassured that they should not be subordinated to colored officers, and they might be required to sustain a State government of the colored majority), how should one expect the former masters to be content and at ease, even though no concerted outbreak had ever occurred among the freedmen, whose temper is naturally peaceable and timid even to servility?
Undoubtedly, the fears of those once reputed hard masters, or who still find it difficult to conform to the new conditions, are often distressing. They are also nature’s incontrovertible testimony to the wisdom and divine origin of equal rights.
Great was the excitement of the Baker families when the young men arrived with the tale of their “narrow escape from the militia men.”
Early the next morning, the old slave-hunter and his three sons set out for the office of Trial Justice Rives, who, though a colored man, it was thought could be more easily induced to meet out punishment to those miserable offenders, than Louis Marmor, who was the only other competentmagistrate in the town.
Of course, as has been the custom of the whites there, from the earliest settlement of that country, these gentlemen all wore their side-arms, and for greater safety these were put into the very best condition, and fully loaded, as they suspected the Town Marshal, who ran after them on the previous evening, might attempt a counter-arrest for the same offense.
Young Tommy did not feel quite safe from Dan Pipsie without his eighteen-shooting rifle in addition; and so, with it in hand, he mounted his young bay horse, while beside him rode his brother-in-law, Harry Gaston,—the best shot in town, bearing also his carbine; while the father and his eldest son, Hanson, were seated in a light wagon in which were placed additional firearms, lightly covered with a lap-robe.
Thus equipped, they proceeded in safety, through the quiet little village to the Justice’s office; and finding it closed, went two miles further on, to his plantation, and returned with him to his office; quite a formidable party to be sure. Arrived there, they entered complaints against Dan Pipsie for threats to kill, and against the officers of the Militia Company for “obstructing the highway.”
The Justice, being himself Major-general of that division of the State Militia, after thoughtfully scratching his crispy locks awhile, said:
“I reckon it is best to hear astatementof the testimony,and then decide whether it is a case for court-martialing, or for trial under thecivil law.”
Ten o’clock of the next morning was fixed as the time for hearing the case.
At that hour Justice Rives was found seated behind his desk, and busily examining papers and documents.
The Bakers made their appearance, accompanied by a few friends, among whom were two professional men—a Reverend, and an M. D.; though not with compresses and consolations for the possible wounded and dying, (for South Carolina chivalry does not fight its duels with “niggers,”) but with bail money (modified from bullets), should that counter-arrest, which they feared, be attempted.
Automatically, or through force of habit, each race in the southern States still assumes, in assemblies, the positions and attitudes imposed in the days of slavery. In the churches of the colored people one or more of the most desirable seats are reserved for whites, and these often remain vacant, or nearly so, during a lengthy service, while church members stand to exhaustion for want of seats.
Hence, the front seats of Gen. Justice Rives’ court-room were occupied by the plaintiffs and their friends, and the defendants and their friends sat at a respectful distance in the rear, while a number of boys and women of color gathered outside of the door.
The magistrate, who had not altogether escaped the envy of his less fortunate neighbors, had often been accused by them of a sycophantic weakness for the approval of thewhites; while the latter declared that justice could not be obtained by them before a colored officer, and that, as a political canvass was approaching, they would not again submit to negro magistrates.
He therefore felt his position peculiarly trying, especially when he saw that they were all thoroughly armed.
He held both his official positions by appointments of the Governor, to be sure; yet he knew that the preponderance of wealth, intelligence and bravery was with the white race; while at the same time he did not forget that if “a traitor to his race,” he would probably, through ostracism and insult, reap a bitter retribution from his own people.
A peace warrant was, however, soon issued against Dan Pipsie, his “Daddy” being present to give bail for his future good behavior. Then, with some apparent reluctance and nervousness, the Justice called the principal case.
Mr. Watta arose and announced that lawyer Kanrasp, from the county seat would appear for the defense.
To this Robert Baker strenuously objected, as, not having been advised that attorneys would be employed, he had none. He therefore asked a postponement of the case.
Kanrasp then suggested to his client that inasmuch as the proceedings had thus far been very informal—the paper served being neither a writ nor summons, and not at all a legal paper—he would withdraw from the case, and let Rives take judgment if he chose, when the case could be appealed to the Superior Court, where justice might be had.
This he did on account of the extreme indignation manifested by the Bakers and their friends.
Gaston, who was a shriveled, weason-faced specimen of thegenus homo, with sandy hair, flaming whiskers, and a face in which whiskey held a profusion of freckles in purple solution, was the first to testify, which he did in accordance with his views of the affair.
“Now, Captain,” said the Judge, when Gaston had finished, “as you have no counsel, you may question the witness if you want to.”
Captain Doc was a well-made, medium sized and shrewd man, little less than forty years of age, with very dark complexion, having three-fourths African blood.
He arose from his seat quite slowly, and squarely fronting Gaston, asked:
“Mr. Gaston, did I treat yo’ with any disrespect when I spoke to yo’? Didn’t I treat yo’ politely?”
“I ca’n’t say that you treated me with any disrespect; but I can say this much, that there was two or three members of your company that showed some impudence to me, and I also saw them load their guns.”
“Mr. Gaston,” replied the Captain, looking searchingly in the eyes of the little man, “didn’t yo’ see me examining the cartridge-boxes and the pockets of the company, to see if they had any ammunition before we went on drill?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Did yo’ see any?”
“No.”
“Idid. I found one man with a cartridge in his pocket, and I took it away, and scolded him about it.”
Gaston replied, “Yes, I saw that.”
“Well then, are yo’certainthat these men loaded their guns?”
“I saw them moving them, and I thought they were loading them.”
“And so yo’ came here toswearthat we wanted to kill yo’? That’s about as much as a colored man can get for his care not to give offense. A man is a fool to go out of his way for any of yo’ white folks anyway. Yo’ had no right to aim to drive through our Company as yo’ did; but when I gave in and got out of yo’r way, and let you go ‘long—gave yo’ the road that b’longed to us—yo’ just come heah with such a lie as that against us.”
“Captain, I don’t want you to treat my court with contempt,” said Rives, severely. “If you can’t address the gentleman more politely you must sit down.”
“Judge, I don’t mean no contempt,” said Doc, in a conciliatory tone, “not if I know myself. I never expect to treat no lawful court with any contempt. I was only asking questions, but if the questions is not legal, then I don’t want to ask him. I won’t ask no mo’, but leave it to yo’r discretion,” and he sat down.
“Well, sir, to sit down without permission is contempt of court.”
With such an air of drollery as only a negro can assume, Doc sprung to his feet again, saying—
“Yo’ mus’ pardon me sah. I’s not accustomed to law offices. If sitting down or anything else is contempt, I’m asking yo’r pardon this minute; for I didn’t mean to contempt this court.”
“It is contempt, sir!” thundered the judge, “and I put you under arrest, and dismiss this court till July the 8th at four o’clock in the evening.”
Some protestations were made on account of the lateness of the hour, but Rives insisted he could not leave his plantation labor earlier, and immediately declared the court adjourned.
Neither the day nor hour was satisfactory to the complainants, as it was on Saturday afternoon, when many country negroes were certain to visit the village shops, stores, and market; but as the whites were more generally masters of their own time, it is possible Rives feared he might need the presence and support of his own race should he not condemn the accused.
Harry Gaston was enraged and strutted about like a bantam cock; his face became almost livid, and his hands nervously bobbed in and out of the breast pockets of his short coat, where rested a well-prepared pistol on one side, and a flask of whiskey on the other. Alas, theflaskknew little rest.
“I pray you be calm, my dear nephew,” said the Reverend Mr. Mealy, who, though inwardlyseething, was so enswathed in his own innate mealiness, that he was measurably cool. “Do not allow this degraded black to disturb you.Remember your position in society. You have been raised by me as my own son. Do not disgrace yourself and me by condescending to dispute with one in his station, and of his color,” and grasping the young man’s arm, he moved towards the door.
Lieutenant Watta, who had been sitting beside his Captain, now sprung to his feet, and grasping Doc’s arm, rushed towards the door, attempting to lead him out.
Doc, however, hung back, and having extricated himself, said in a low tone, “Watta, keep cool!” and he sat down again.
“I won’t keep cool!” retorted the lieutenant. This white-livered judge has shown partiality. Look at the arms in this court room! and Rives is afraid!” (with a sneer.) “They may shed my blood if they can, but I won’t keep still and see my captain arrested for contempt just because in questioning, he got ahead of these unrebuked and cowardly bullies when you humbled us all, on the Fourth of July, to avoid a fuss and concilliate their lordships;” and the enraged man strode out of the building, threw the gate back upon its hinges, and standing in the opening thus made, drew himself to his full height, and threw out his empty palms exclaiming
“I carry no arms; but we’ve got arms.”
“Yes, you’ve got arms, but you’ll see how it’ll be yourselves!” said Hanson Baker, who had been haranguing the people outside the court house. “There’s a fellow from Texas here, two or more of ’em, and they’regoing to kill that Town Marshall, and nobody isn’t going to know who done it, and then they’ll leave.”
“What does he or they know about John Carr, the Marshall?” asked a very large, but irresolute-looking black man.
“He’s been informed of his character, and I tell you John Carr won’t be living in this town three months, neither will some o’ the rest.”
“How about that Harmony Case?” asked the same voice (a case of massacre of blacks).
“Well, I wasn’t there, but they done it, and there’s a programme laid down for the white folksthisyear.”
“That is wrong,” said a voice.
“Well, if itiswrong, it is no matter; it’ll be done all the same. There is no laws now.”
“Ha! ha!” laughed the crowd, the whites applauding, and the blacks deriding the threats.
“Does yo’ pretend to say there a’n’t no law in the State now?”
“No, there a’n’t no law in this State, nor any other State. It’s been a hundred years since the Constitution of the United States, and it’s played out now, and every man can do as he likes. We’re going to get Chamberlain and his crowd out o’ the State House.”
“How about Grant? You know he’s President.”
“By——! we’ll have him too.”
“Take care, that is treason,” said another.
Harrison Baker and Watta proceeded, each with his harangue, and paid no heed to each other, till the plaintiffsand their friends crowded out of the building, pistols in hand, ready for instantaneous use.
A frightened old mammy bawled out, with great eyes rolling, and great hands waving, “See the pistols and guns! See the pistols and guns! Oh, Lor’! they ort to be shot down theirselves!” but the next instant she cowered under the same fierce gaze of the “old man Baker,” which had made many a stalwart runaway stand tamely after the dogs were taken off and while the shackles were put on.
“Uncle, Uncle, let me go,” said Gaston impatiently, striving to free himself from that worthy’s grasp. “I want to shut that yellow chap’s mouth with this little bit of lead. The judge ought to arresthim, but I’ll take his case if you’ll let me go, I’ll give him a mouthful to chaw!”
“Shut my mouth, would you?” retorted Watta, who had caught the words as the two men approached the door. “You’ll find that hard business before you are through with it, if you try. The whites have ruled us long enough. Two hundred and fifty years they bought and sold us like cattle, till the United States set us free; and since then, colored citizens have been tied and whipped, and shot, and murdered in cold blood, and driven from their homes, and their property destroyed, to this day. But it is all no matter here before this white-livered judge. It’ll take a regiment to tie and whipme, or spill what black bloodIhave.”
“Do not speak to him, my nephew,” said the Rev. Mr. Mealy.
“A regiment!” cried Gaston, with a sneer. “Let me go and whip him myself;” but the readiness with which he yielded to the pressure of his uncle’s hands, was amusingly in contrast with his words.
“We will have this matter settled by law now, and know whether we are to be run over in this way. We will know which are to rule this place—the blacks or the whites,” said Rev. Mr. Mealy. “We’ll know what rights this militia company have. They have got an idea that they can do whatever they please. We’ll have it settled now.”
“This court is a mockery of justice,” continued Watta. “Look at those arms on the side of wealth, and an unarmed poor man arrested for contempt, because he has a dark skin and cornered his opponent by lawful questions. The next time a white swell rides into our ranks while we are on parade we will see that he doesn’t take us to court for obstructing his way.”
Rev. Mr. Mealy, Dr. Shall, and General Rives were active and nearest in efforts to control the now highly incensed Baker family and Gaston; and an influential colored man succeeded in getting Watta out of the street. With deep muttered threats and oaths, the Bakers and their friends at length betook themselves to their conveyances and their homes.
Captain Doc conversed with the constable, in the justice’s office, while the latter official went to his dinner and returned. Re-entering, Rives approached, and extending his hand said good-humoredly, “Shake hands Doc.”
“I don’t know,” replied he, with averted eyes.
“Yes, you will. I couldn’t help it. You was bearing on so hard that they would have shot you in two minutes more. I did it to save you.”
“Is that so, judge? Then here’s my hand. I didn’t mean no contempt; but if I’ve contempted you, or your court I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right now, and I’ll remit the fine. Now let me tell you, you’d best settle this matter somehow, if it is possible. I’m afraid trouble will come of this. I wish Watta had ’a’ kept still.”
“So do I. He’s a marked man now, shor’, and his life an’t worth much,” said Nat Wellman, the constable.
“Settle it?” said Capt. Doc. “Major General Rives, nothing will settle it but to let the company be broken up. I won’t do that, and my oath to the State, that I have taken as Captain, wonldn’t let me if I wanted to.”
“I can’t see the end of this yet, I can’t,” said the Judge, with a sigh, as the trio separated.