THE OATH OF FEALTY.
Since the death of Mrs. Seymour the negroes had been busily plying their offensive vocation filling to the very brim the vat of vicious fermentation. The air at night was laden with ribaldry and the sounds of guns. The old master's labors were greatly multiplied too, since the negroes were all the while in some exasperating way or other celebrating the "Emancipation Proclamation," the dawn of freedom. Their presence had become a serious menace, an ever recurring cause of alarm. His resources, too, were almost gone—the cattle had been slaughtered in the range, the horses appropriated and returned when convenient, and he dared not ask why this spoliation of his property.
Ned would occasionally announce his arrival upon the plantation by furious blasts from a great cracked horn. He would be dressed from head to foot in a blue uniform with bright brass buttons and yellow cords upon the revers and sleeves of his jacket, and a coarse slouched hat with crossed swords in front, a huge yellow cord with tassels around the crown, and it surmounted by a peacock's feather. The old master saw with disgust the foolish negro from the verandah, marching up and down the carriage way with his bright musket, going through the manual of arms, "Sport Harms! Horder arms! Charge bagonets!" Aleck and Ephraim and Henry were dressed in the same fashion and going through the same evolutions on another part of the plantation. Now and then a discharge from the guns accompanied by demoniacal yells would frighten poor Alice almost to death. In the dead hours of night these brutal negroes to terrify her and her father would drill in the front yard of Ingleside with vulgar and boisterous commands, and before breaking ranks they would discharge their muskets with horrifying screams—"Jess immitatin de brav sojer boys at Fort Piller," they said. Ingleside was virtually a camp of military instruction!
"Clarissa," Alice exclaimed, "we must go away from here. We will be murdered if we do not get away from these horrid negroes, I shall die with fright if I remain here any longer. They can come at any hour of the day or night and kill us. Father is old and feeble and cannot protect me, and you know, Clarissa, I cannot protect him. Please go to him and tell him we must get away this very day."
"Bress yo deer life, Miss Alice, ef yu seed how dis po ole heart was a flip flappin, fust peert und den slow, lak a yaller hammer beatin ergen er dedded gum, fust on wun side und den on de tuther, yu'd say ter yosef, 'po Clarsy!' Fo de Lawd, I'm skeert mo wusser dan yu is, und ef dis heer flustrashun is ergwine on much fudder de Lawd is gwine ter rane down fire und brimstone on dese niggers lak he dun on dem Mallyskites, und I specks er grate big hunk is ergwine to hit Ned und Joshaway too, rite slam twixt de eyeballs. Dem dare niggers, jamby granddaddies of Methuserlum, lookin lak hants in all dem fethers and brass buttons, er heppin all ober de taters und de korn und de cotton, und bress de Lawd, ef I must tell de truf, dey is as perished up ez a mash hen er settin on turkle eggs. Yu needn't larf lak dat, Miss Alice; de Lawd is gwine ter show dese niggers whos er totin de biggest strane, und when he sez de wurd, dey's ergwine ter be dedder dan last yur's gode wines, und—"
"Perhaps, Clarissa," interrupted Alice, "these troublous times are but mercies in disguise?"
"Oh, my King!" ejaculated Clarissa in alarm, "Murder's gwine ter rise, yu sez? Oh, my hebbens! Is yu aiming fur dem kallamities tu cum immegiate, missis?"
Alice laughed away the old negress' fears and replied in explanation:
"I said they were mercies—mercies in disguise."
"Dat is mo better, Miss Alice," observed Clarissa, slightly mollified. "Kase I knoed ef dat tuther fing wuz ergwine ter hap'n, me und yu und ole marser mout git kilt fo enybody but de niggers spishuned er resurreckshun. Ole Clarsy's skin is powerful black missis, und dis kinky hed is pided lak dat ole wether's in de medder, but I'm ergwine ter stan by yu und ole marser twell de eend, und when Ole Marser up yander sez de word, I'm ergwine ter ax yu ter berry Clarsy at ole missis' feet; und den ef she heers de trumpet fust she'll call Clarsy, und ef I heers it fust I'm ergwine ter call her, und den me und her will jine hans und fly erway ter glory."
The pathos of this affectionate speech brought tears to the eyes of her young mistress, and the thought came out of her great sympathetic nature:
"Reconstruction so far has been a great smelting furnace—it has separated the pure from the impure, and with its refining heat has grappled with hooks of steel the hearts of mistress and servant. Would that I could dictate a fitting eulogium for the faithful negroes; for those who are groping still amid the shadows of an epoch that seems obedient to no law but of caprice and change."
If I get to Heaven, Clarissa will be at the portal with some such expression upon her tongue as this: "Bress yer hart, missis, I've been waitin right here fur yer ever since I heard yer wus er cummin. Come wid me, young missis, und let me show yer dis beautifullest city in de hole wurrel."
"Sixty days within which to prove your loyalty!" "Sixty days" were coming upon tireless pinions. Are the mills of the gods still grinding? Is there yet water in the flume to run the heavy wheel? Is there still grist to feed the stones?
"To prove your loyalty" ran the judgment. What badinage to toss into the face of a man who had braved death upon a hundred battle-fields and all for "loyalty!" He had proved it by great scarifications that would have appalled every carpet-bagger in the South. Loyalty is the counterpart of honor—the collaborator with duty, and the old soldier for sixty five years had maintained and performed his part in his particular sphere of life; yea out of the crucible of hell he had rescued his loyalty—his character as pure as the untrodden snow.
Another sunrise shoots its gleams into the cribbed heart of Old Ingleside, and Clarissa has not returned to prepare breakfast; what can be the matter? "Perhaps she is unwell. I am sure she cannot be faithless," argued Alice with herself. "I will go and see." As she entered the door of the cabin she saw Ned rolling and tossing upon the bed in wild delirium and she asked Clarissa what was the matter with her husband.
"Don't know, Miss Alice," replied Clarissa, "epseps he is tuck wurser wid wun ob dem bad spells agin; dey is cummin und agwine ebery now and den, und he gits rite foolish und komikell."
Alice drew her chair closely to the bedside and felt of the old negro's head and it was very hot; she felt his pulse and it was beating like a triphammer. He was groaning, too, as if in great pain, crying out in delirium occasionally "Charge bagonet! Sport harms! hep! hep! hep!" as if drilling and going through the manual of the soldier. Alice saw that something must be done and very quickly, and she said to Clarissa.
"I will run for the doctor."
"Lor, missis, yer a gwine a trapesing away over yander fur de doctur by your lone lorn sef? I specks hits er mile ur too ef its ary step."
Within an hour the physician was at the bedside of the sick negro, diagnosing the case and prescribing medicine.
"He is not in immediate danger," observed the physician to Alice, "But he must be watched."
"I want to put him under your care and whatever your charge may be I will pay it."
"Thank you, miss," replied the physician with a smile. "I will see that he does not suffer for the want of medical treatment. By the way, how is your father's health now, Miss Alice?" he asked.
"I think I can see that he is failing, sir," the girl replied sadly.
"I presume he, like every body else, is greatly annoyed by the freedmen."
"Yes, a few of them have given us trouble," she replied.
"Perhaps I shall see you again to-morrow. You will find that the negro will rest very well after his fever abates a little," and the doctor, shaking Alice's hand cordially, bade her good morning.
"Now Clarissa," Alice said after the doctor had gone, "You run over home and prepare breakfast for father, and I will watch by Uncle Ned until you get back.
"Miss Alice," exclaimed Clarissa "sposin dat kommykle nigger gits outen bed what is yer agwine to do den?"
The old negro's expression was so ludicrous that Alice was obliged to laugh as she observed, "I will take care of him; never mind. If he gets out of the bed I will get him back again."
"Und him a plum stracted idjeot?" ejaculated Clarissa as she passed out of the door.
Alice pursuing the directions of the physician, brought from the spring near by a bucket of very cold water and sat down again at the bedside and very gently, soothingly, bathed the old negro's face and brow. The fever was abating, still the deft fingers dripping with the water pressed the fevered face. Once Ned partially aroused exclaimed deliriously,
"I'se a woting ebery time fur de boss, who's yer a woting fur, Joshaway?"
After quite awhile Ned awoke, at first a little abstracted and asked.
"Is dat yer, Clarsy, wid dem dar shiny eyes?" and again dropped into a restful slumber.
This time there were no exacerbations, no delirium, but he slept as tranquilly as a little child. The fever had passed away. He awoke and saw the dear child whom he had so brutally wronged sitting like a guardian angel by the bed; her white hands cool and refreshing still pressing his forehead, and the old negro covered his wrinkled face with his skinny hands and wept. Wept from a sense of shame, remorse. He remembered that when her need was sorest he had acted the brute—turned his back upon this poor child who with a full knowledge of his manifold acts of cruelty and injustice was nursing him back to life.
"Is dat yer, Miss Alice?" he asked through his blinding tears. "Gord bress yer dear sweet life, young misses, I fort yer wus ur angel. I didn't fink dat my young misses dat I left ober yander in de grate house by her lone sef, to fend fur hersef und de ole marsa, wud do dis urren ob mussy fur a po' outcast nigger lak ole Ned." And the old negro began to cry afresh.
"Don't cry, Uncle Ned, the good Lord commands us to visit the sick and I am trying to do my duty toward Him and toward you. You are so much better now; don't worry and cry over me. The Lord is chastening us, but it is all for His glory, Uncle Ned."
"When I woke fust time, missis, I didn't know whar I wus," he continued, wiping his eyes, "und den I drapped back to sleep agin und it peared lak de butifullest sperits huvered all erround de bed, and wun ob dem mo butifuller dan tother wuns crep rite easy lak und put her hand on my forhed und I heerd tother wuns call her 'Alice,' und I spishuned it mouter been yer, I knowed it wus yer. Does yer know why dis ole nigger cried jess now, missis?" "Taint my fault dat I turned agin yer und ole marsa—de Lord in Hebben knows it aint. Ef I had minded Clarsy, yer und ole marsa wudn't faulted me no how. I wudn't hurt a har on yer hed for a wurrell ful of freedum—dat I wudn't. De dratted niggers tole me how dat I mout be biggety und play boss-lak, und den I wud git to be leftenant und den I mout be cappen ob de miluntary cump'ny, und wear grate big gold upperlips lak de boss, und ef I wus agwine to die dis minit I clares on my solemnkolly ofe dat dem dare biggity white fokses in de town is de meanest passel ob humans in de yurth. Dey is worsern jack-lanterns 'ticin' de culled fokses furder und furder into misery. Missis, ef yer und ole marser will oberlook dese here transgrashuns I'll nebber, nebber gin yer no mo sorrer, dat I won't."
"Uncle Ned," replied Alice with her beautiful eyes radiant through tears, "from the bottom of my heart I forgive you if you have ever given offense to my father or to me. I think I can see that great good is to come out of it all. Don't you know how the children of Israel suffered in Egypt, and in their journeyings through the desert land, when the dry parched lands yielded no corn and the Lord fed his people and led them safely into Canaan?"
"Yes, marm, dat I duz, und He is ergwine ter leed us outen dese lowgrounds, too, missis, und ef He doan do dat I knows whut He is ergwine ter do—He is ergwine ter dribe dese Filistin men outen dis kentry wid a storm ob yaller jackets lak He drib Farro outen de lan ob de Mallyskites."
Clarissa having performed her work in the great house came into the cabin at this moment and was greatly surprised to find Ned in an animated conversation with her mistress: Ned observing as her footfall arrested his attention:
"Dar now, Clarsy, yer is dun und gone und fotched us down agin."
"Fotched yer whar, Ned," exclaimed Clarissa in wonderment.
"Frum de perly gates, dat's whar," replied Ned. "Me und Miss Alice has jes bin ergwine erbout all ober de New Jerusalum, und yu fotched us rite back to de yurth agen—dat's er sin ter yer, Clarsy."
"Fo de Lawd, is yer er plum stracted idjet? What is yer er doin in de New Jerusulum? Is yer dun und washed erway yer sins? I don't see no whings in dis heer house—how did yer git up dar Ned."
Alice laughed immoderately, and even Ned obliged himself to confess "dat he was in de sperret in de New Jerusulum."
"Miss Alice," asked Ned quite earnestly, "has yer got de good book wid yer?"
"Yes, Ned, I have my mother's bible with me; wherever I go it is my companion always. Shall I read a passage to you?" answered Alice.
"Ef yer plese, mum. I aims ter cut ernudder notch in my ole walkin stick, und when I looks at dat I'm ergwine ter drap rite down und pray."
Alice opened the little thumb-worn book at the second chapter of John and began to read:
"My little children, these things write I unto you, that ye sin not. And if any man sin we have an advocate with the Father—Jesus Christ the Righteous."
"Don't you see, Uncle Ned," Alice said as she looked up into the old negro's black face, "how good the Lord is to us? He puts it into the mouth of His apostle to call us little children, and he tells us that the Saviour is pleading for us poor sinners. 'Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world the love of the Father is not in him.' When we are in distress or trouble," continued Alice, "we must turn away from the beggarly elements of the world and cast our cares upon Him, for He careth for us."
"Whot sort er elements did yer say, missis?" asked Ned attentively.
"Beggarly elements," replied Alice. "There is nothing that satisfieth in this life, uncle Ned; and all the world can give us in comforts and riches are as husks—we must look to Jesus and to Him only for consolation—for salvation."
"Dat is de Gospel truf," exclaimed Clarissa, with emotion.
"Miss Alice, will yer fault me fur axin yer wun mo questun? Is dere eny defference in hebben twixt er cullud pussun und a white pussun?"
"No indeed," replied Alice; "we are His children if we are faithful—the work of His hands."
"Dat questiun, missis, has oversized me all dese days, und I was afeered dat we was de gotes dat de Lawd drib ober on tother side, erway frum de lams, kase, missis, when I gits dar I wants ter live rite close ter ole marser's und young missis' 'great house,' whar I kin see yer und tend yer boff."
"You will not need to do us that service, Uncle Ned. You will have a mansion of your own; there will be no great houses there. The good Lord will know no difference between you and me, only as you or I shall excel here in doing His holy will. Don't you want to serve Him, old negro, so you shall have a crown of rejoicing by and by?"
"Dat I does, young missis. My ole bones is mity shackly, und it aint ergwine ter be long afore I goes outen dis cabin fer de las time; und ef its His will ter call me fust, I'm agwine ter pick out de butifulest great house in de city, und stay rite dere lak er watch-dorg twell yer und ole marser cums und taks perseshun. When I gits outen dis bed, missis, I'm gwine back home—gwine back to ole Mars Jon, lak dat prodigle man dat woured up dem korn cobs way out yander."
Alice, the true hearted Christian, could not withhold her tears as the old negro so eloquently, yet so ignorantly, revealed his love and loyalty. She arose from her chair to bid him good bye:
"One word mo, missis, und den I'm dun. I wants jes one little drap o' prayer, pleas'm."
Alice knelt reverently at the bed and tenderly prayed that the old negro might be accepted as a child of the King—a royal son of a Royal Father, whose kingdom was above all thrones and principalities, and from everlasting to everlasting.
"Und now, Clarsy," said old Ned, "yer stan rite dere, und Miss Alice yer stan whar yer is, und hear me swar dis ofe: 'I, Ned Semo, does swar und kiss dis little bible ob ole missusses' who's dun und gon to hebben, dat nebber mo' will I lif my mouf nur my han nur my hart in mischuf agen ole marser und young Miss Alice, so help me Gawd!"
Let us believe that the recording angel in the heavenly court has engrossed this oath in a never-fading holograph in his journal, and that whenever the sacred tome is read as witnessing the good there is in the creature, the word "approve" shall appear upon the margin.