These twin ideas of religion and politics having been introduced into the League, dominated the order so completely that its secular business was often arrested by a call to prayers, and more frequently than otherwise its order of business terminated by a twilight homily on the total cussedness and final unreliability of all who anchored their faith to the Conservative idea in politics.
This new element, however, was far from benefiting the League; its morals grew infinitely worse; its larcenies became more frequent, and were prosecuted on a larger scale; it became more arrogant in its assumption of exclusive political right on unreconstructed territory; and, finally, assayed, through the medium of politics, to accomplish a social reform that would elevate the ignorant and semi-savage race which it represented to family equality with a class of beings who recognized no title to such a claim, but that of honorable ancestry and a spotless name. Beyond the attempt, however, which was warmly seconded by the national Congress, it is needless to say that nothing was ever done; and this extreme of rash legislation, undertaken, it would seem at this date, with no other object in view than the humiliation of a proud and constitutionally sensitive enemy, proved in the end the downfall of the League. From this moment, it was met by a counter movement, which, while possessing an organization in many respects superior to its own, covered its movements with the same veil of secrecy; caucused with the same regularity; foraged on its enemies with equal pertinacity and greed; and, finally, proceeded on its mission with the same fell purpose of triumphing by fair means or foul.
CHAPTER III.
THE KLAN.
A Stirring Episode—Raising the Dead—Night-Hawk Abroad—Moving toward the Rendezvous—Grand Cyclops of Den No. 5—Forming the Magic Circle—Raiding Command—K. K. K. Drill—On the March—The Tout Ensemble of a Raiding Body—Weird Costuming—Arms and Accoutrements—Banners Inscribed with the K. K. K. Escutcheon—How the Scene Impressed Beholders.
In the month of November, A. D. 1866, in that portion of Western Tennessee known to dwellers as the Kentucky purchase, was enacted a scene which possessed romantic features entitling it to rank with the most exquisite fancies of Lamartine or Moore, and which, conscious of our inability to improve on its smallest detail, is presented to the reader without any fictitious adornment whatever.
In one of the apartments of the elegant mansion of Paul Thorburn, Esq., was assembled a company of pale watchers, who seemed thoroughly enlisted in behalf of their sick charge—an adult son of this gentleman, who for weeks had been prostrated by a virulent fever. It was plainly to be seen from the countenances of the good Samaritans who had been lingering near the couch—but now conversed apart, or telegraphed signals to those who waited without—that all hope of the invalid’s recovery had vanished. Since the physician had passed from the apartment, whispering an attendant that he would return no more, the furniture of the room had been readjusted as if in obedience to the crisis in the affairs of its owners; that portion of the attendants who lingered had left their seats, and stood with folded arms and reclined heads, and the entire surroundings wore that abstracted and melancholy air which the reader cannot fail to have associated in fancy with such scenes.
The mother of the young man, pale and distraught from long weeping, had imprinted a kiss of heartbreaking farewell on the brow of her son, and removed her station to a neighboring window, whence she looked out upon the autumn landscape, and anon, as if seeking aid from afar, up at the pale empress of night, which, as it neared the meridian, projected great bars of golden light into the apartment. Her attitude had not changed for many minutes, as if the burden of grief that pressed inwardly upon her had taken away the power of motion, and now reclined against the casement—in form and feature immobile as sculptured Psyche, the tableau engrossed the attention of all who lingered in the vicinity. It may have been, too, that by means of that subtle, unperceivable line of communications, established between the emotions of beings and coming events which are to effect their destinies, a signal had been telegraphed to the waiting company; for from the moment that they had been attracted towards this scene, their gaze had not once been removed from the form of the pale watcher, who suddenly, and as if wrought upon by the conditions of some outward wonder, developed a strong twitching of the facial muscles, and a dilatation of the pupils of the eye, which took in the landscape in the direction of the public road; then a nervousness of manner, betokening strong inward excitement; then an expansion of frame, whose lineaments, clear cut against the bas-relief of starlight, took on Titanic proportions; and instantly, as if in keeping with this strange pantomime, a hush, deep, all-pervading, filled the apartment, broken at length by an audible sigh from the couch of the invalid, followed by the frightened whisper, “Mother!” The reply, exploded in clear, ringing tones, was addressed to nobody, transfixed everybody, and started waves of sound that chased each other through every nook and angle of the large building—“Ku Klux!”