CHAPTER XXIII
The Black and Tan Convention: The “Midnight Constitution”
The Black and Tan Convention met December 3, 1867, in our venerable and historic Capitol to frame a new constitution for the Old Dominion. In this body were members from New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Maine, Vermont, Connecticut, Maryland, District of Columbia, Ireland, Scotland, Nova Scotia, Canada, England; scalawags, or turn-coats, by Southerners most hated of all; twenty-four negroes; and in the total of 105, thirty-five white Virginians, from counties of excess white population, who might be considered representative of the State’s culture and intelligence. It was officered by foreigners and negroes; John C. Underwood, of New York, being President.
Capitol Square was garlanded with tables and stands; and the season was one of joy to black and yellow vendors of ginger-cakes, goobers, lemonade, and cheap whiskey. Early ornaments of the Capitol steps were ebony law-makers sporting tall silk hats, gold-headed canes, broadcloth suits, the coat always Prince Albert. Throughout the South this was the uniform of sable dignitaries as soon as emoluments permitted. The funny sayings and doings of negroes, sitting for the first time in legislative halls, were rehearsed in conversation and reported in papers; visitors went to the Capitol as to a monkey or minstrel show. Most of these darkeys, fresh from tobacco lots and corn and cotton fields, were as innocent as babes of any knowledge of reading and writing.
They were equally guileless in other directions. Before the body was organised, an enthusiastic delegate bounced up to say something, but the Chair nipped him untimely in the bud: “No motion is in order until roll is called. Gentlemen will please remember parliamentary usage.” The member sank limp into his seat, asking in awed whisper of his neighbour: “Whut in de worl’ is dat?” Perplexity was great when a member rose to “make an inquiry.” “Whut’s dat?” “Whut dat he gwi make?” was whispered round, the question being settled summarily: “Well, it don’ make no diffunce. We ain’ gwi let him do it nohow case he ain’ no Radicule.” White constituents soon tried to muzzle black orators. Word was passed that white “Radicules” would talk and black members keep silent and vote as they were bid. “Shew! She-ew!” “Set down!” “Shut the door!” were household words, the last ejaculation coming into request when scraps seemed imminent and members wanted the sergeant-at-arms to take each other, yet preferred that the public should not be witness to these little family jars.
Black, white, and yellow pages flew around, waiting on members; the blacker the dignitary, the whiter the page he summoned to bring pens, ink, paper, apples, ginger-cakes, goober-peas. And newspapers. No sooner did darkeys observe that whites sent out and got newspapers than they did likewise; and sat there reading them upside down.
The gallery of coloured men and women come to see the show were almost as diverting as the law-makers. Great were the flutterings over the seating of John Morrissey, the “Wild Irishman,” mistaken for his namesake, the New York pugilist. “Dat ain’t de man dat fit Tom Higher?” “I tell you it am!” “Sho got muscle!” “He come tuh fit dem Preservatives over dar.” According to the happy darkey knack of saying the wrong thing in the right place, a significant version of “Conservative” was thus applied to the little handful of representative white Virginians. Great, too, were the flutterings when Governor “Plowpint” (so darkeys pronounced Pierpont) paid his visit of ceremony; and when General Schofield and aide marched in in war-paint and feathers: the Chair waved the gavel and the convention rose to its feet to receive the distinguished guests. The war lord was to pay another and less welcome visit. The piety of neither gallery nor convention could be questioned if the fervor and frequency of “Amens!” interrupting the petitions of the Chaplain (from Illinois) were an indication; Dr. Bayne, of Norfolk, so raised his voice above the rest that his colleagues became concerned lest that seaport were claiming for herself more than just proportion of religious zeal.
Curiosity was on tip-toe when motion was made that a stenographer be appointed. “‘Snographer?’ What’s dat?” “Maybe it’s de pusson whut takes down de speeches befo’ dee’s spoken,” explains a wise one. The riddle was partly solved when a spruce, foreign individual of white complexion rose and walked to the desk, vacated in his favour by a gentleman of colour. “Dar he! dat’s him!” “War’s good close, anyhow!” was pronounced of the new official; then the retired claimed sympathy: “Whut he done?” “Whut dee tu’n him out fuh?” “Ain’t dee gwi give niggers nothin’?” “Muzzling” was not yet begun; this occasion for eloquence was not to be ignored by the Honourable Lewis Lindsay, representing Richmond: “Mistah Presidet, I hopes in dis late hour dat Ole Fuhginny am imperilated, dat no free-thinkin’ man kin suppose fuh one minute dat we ’sires tuh misrippersint de idee dat we ain’ qualify de sability uh de sternogphy uh dis convention. I hopes, suh, dat we kin den be able tuh superhen’ de principles uh de supposition.”
Lindsay would always rise to an occasion if his coat-tails were not pulled too hard. Fortunately, his matchless oration on the mixed school question was not among gems lost to the world: “Mistah Presidet, de real flatform, suh. I’ll sw’ar tuh high Heaven. Yes, I’ll sw’ar higher dan dat. I’ll go down an’ de uth shall crumble intuh dus’ befo’ dee shall amalgamise my rights. ’Bout dis question uh cyarpet-bags. Ef you cyarpet-baggers does go back on us, woes be unto you! You better take yo’ cyarpet-bags an’ quit, an’ de quicker you git up an’ git de better. I do not abdicate de supperstition tuh dese strange frien’s, lately so-called citizens uh Fuhginny. Ef dee don’ gimme my rights, I’ll suffer dis country tuh be lak Sarah. I’ll suffer desterlation fus! When I blows my horn dee’ll hear it! When de big cannons was thund’in, an’ de missions uh death was flyin’ thu de a’r, dee hollered: ‘Come, Mr. Nigguh, come!’ an’ he done come! I’se here tuh qualify my constituents. I’ll sing tuh Rome an’ tuh Englan’ an’ tuh de uttermos’ parts uh de uth—” “You must address yourself to the Chair,” said that functionary, ready to faint. “All right, suh. I’ll not ’sire tuh maintain de House any longer.”