Negroes were drilled, armed and marched about. Into League rooms social features were introduced, League literature was read aloud, feminine branches were formed. Leagues furnished a secret service bureau. Coloured servants told what happened in white houses. “My cook and I were children together,” a friend tells me. “As we grew up, she made me read and write her letters. One day, after freedom, she said, ‘Miss, put ’tin dar fuh Jeems tuh write me suppin funny nex’ time he do write. We has to have all our letters read out in church an’ when dere’s anything funny, de folks laugh.’ Soon she ceased asking my services. Through this plan of having letters read out in church leagues and bureaus collected information of happenings in private homes from far and wide. Such gleanings might be useful in revealing political or self-protective movements among whites, in hunting a man down; or serving his political or social enemy, or would-be robber.”
In a South Carolina mansion, Mrs. Vincent and her daughter Lucy lived alone except for a few faithful ex-slaves. A cabin on the edge of the plantation was rented to Wash, a negro member of the Loyal League, whose organiser was Captain Johnson, commander of a small garrison in a nearby town. The captain was fond of imposing fines upon whites against whom negroes entered complaint. There seemed nice adjustment between fines and defendants’ available cash. One day Wash, pushing past Lucy’s maid into the Vincent parlor, said to Lucy’s mother, “I’se come to cote Miss Lucy.” “Leave the house!” “I ain’ gwi leave no such a thing! I’se gwi marry Lucy an’ live here wid you.” Lucy appeared. “I’se come to ax you to have me. I’se de ve’y man fuh you to hitch up wid. Dis here place b’long to me. You b’long to me.” She whipped out a pistol and covered him. “Run! Run for your life!” He ran. When he was out of pistol-shot, he turned and yelled: “You d—d white she-cat! I’ll make you know!” She caught up a musket and fired. Balls whistled past his head; he renewed his flight.
Next morning, as the ladies, pale and miserable, sat at breakfast, a squad of soldiers filed in, took seats, helped themselves and ordered the butler around. The ladies rose and were arrested. A wagon was at the door. “Please, marsters,” said black Jerry humbly, “lemme hitch up de kerridge an’ kyar Mistiss an’ Miss Lucy in it. ’Taint fitten fuh ’em to ride in a waggin—an’ wid strange mens.” His request was refused. The ladies were arraigned before Captain Johnson on charge that they had used insulting language to Mr. Washington Singleton Pettigru; and that Lucy, “in defiance of law and morals and actuated by the devil,” had “without provocation” fired on him with intent to kill. A fine of $1,000 or six months in jail was imposed. “I have not so much money!” cried Mrs. Vincent. “Jail may change your mind,” said the captain. They were committed to a loathsome cell, their determination alone preventing separation.
Lawyers flocked to their defense; the captain would hear none. Towards nightfall the town filled with white men wearing set faces. The captain sent for one of the lawyers. The lawyer said: “Unless you release those ladies from the jail at once, no one can tell what may happen. But this I believe: you, nor a member of your garrison, will be alive tomorrow.” They were released; fine remitted; the captain left in haste. An officer came from Columbia to investigate “disorder in the district.” He condemned Johnson’s course and tried to reassure the community. It came out that Johnson had received information that Mrs. Vincent held a large, redeemable note; he had incited Wash to “set up” to Miss Lucy, urging that by marrying her he would become the plantation’s owner: “Call in your best duds and ask her to marry you. If she refuses, we will find a way to punish her.” Wash, it was thought, had fled the country. The negro body-servant of Lucy’s dead brother had felt that the duty of avenger devolved upon him, and in his own way he had slain Wash and covered up the deed.
A white congregation was at worship in a little South Carolina church when negro soldiers filed in and began to take seats beside the ladies. The pastor had just given out his text; he stretched forth his hands and said simply: “Receive the benediction,” and dismissed his people. A congregation in another country church was thrown into panic by balls crashing through boards and windows; a girl of fourteen was killed instantly. Black troops swung by, singing. Into a dwelling a squad of blacks marched, bound the owner, a prominent aged citizen, pillaged his house, and then before his eyes, bound his maiden daughter and proceeded to fight among themselves for her possession. “Though,” related my informant with sharp realism, “her neck and face had been slobbered over, she stood quietly watching the conflict. At last, the victor came to her, caught her in his arms and started into an adjoining room, when he wavered and fell, she with him; she had driven a knife, of which she had in some way possessed herself, into his heart. The others rushed in and beat her until she, too, was lifeless. There was no redress.”
In black belts, where such things happened and where negroes talked openly of killing out white men and taking white women for wives, the whites, few in number, poorly armed and without organisation, scattered over the country and leading themselves in no insignificant proportion the lives of the hunted, faced a desperate situation. Many who chanced to give offense to the ruling faction or who by force of character were considered obstacles to its advancement, found themselves victims of false charges, and, chased by troops, had to leave their families and dwell in swamps or other hiding-places. Compelled by necessity to labour in the field, white gentlemen going to their toil, let down gaps in surrounding fences so that they might fly at a moment’s notice, and plowed with saddles on their horses’ backs. Northerners, and Southerners who did not live in that day and in black belts, can form no conception of the conditions which gave rise to the white secret societies of which the most widely celebrated is the Ku Klux.
Larger in numbers and wider in distribution was the order of the Knights of the White Camelia, originating in Louisiana; small protective bodies consolidating May 23, 1867, in New Orleans, took this title. Extension over the United States was purposed. Its first article of faith was preservation of the integrity of the white race, and, in government, white supremacy. At the door of the Council Chamber the blindfolded candidate for initiation vowed: “The cause of our race must triumph;” and “We must all be united as are the flowers that grow on one stem.” He swore “Never to marry any woman but of the white race.” Mongrel legislatures were enacting laws about co-education and intermarriage of races; the whites were a “bewildered people.” In Mississippi, the order of the Knights of the White Rose was modelled on the White Camelias; in Alabama, the White Brotherhood and the White League; there were Pale Faces, Union Guards, and others, all of which, with the White Camelias, may be included in the Ku Klux movement.
The Ku Klux originated near Pulaski, Tennessee, 1866, in something akin to a college boys’ frolic. Some young ex-Confederates, of good families, finding time heavy on their hands after war’s excitement, banded together in a fraternity, with initiation rites, signals, oaths of secrecy, and a name after the Greek, kyklos, a circle, corrupted into kuklos, kuklux, and adding klan. Their “den” was a deserted house near the town. They rode at night in queer disguises; at first, without other object than diversion. Their fear and fame spread; branches were formed in other counties and States. In their pranks and negro superstition, whites found weapon for protection and defense. Through troubled neighbourhoods, white horsemen riding in noiseless procession, restored peace by parade and sometimes by sterner measures.
MRS. DAVID R. WILLIAMS, OF SOUTH CAROLINA