The agents were changed, and in 1867 an Irishman came, who could handle the shillalah, drink whisky without the smell of peat, sing the "Irish Dragoon" or the "Widow Malone," and run the Freedmen's Bureau. And here is a little of my own experience under it with him.
In renting out the land on shares, among the squads was one squad of thirteen hands, with two negroes named Miles and Derry as head men. They had about eighty acres put in cotton. The recorded contract required them to work under my direction, and I was to furnish means to raise the crop, and their share was half the cotton. Owing to the almost constant spring rains, their crop became hopelessly overgrown with weeds and grass. I vainly tried to induce them to abandon the lowest part of the land and save about sixty acres; they refused. I then wrote a note to the agent. He came out late in the evening with the deputy sheriff and sent for Miles and Derry, heard what they had to say; then severely reprimanded them; took Miles by the ears and backed him against the side of the house and pounded his head against the wall vigorously; then taking Derry by the ears, he pounded his head as he did Miles's. By this time near a hundred negroes were on the lawn peeping up over the gallery, which was the arena of the acts.
Then he made a five minutes' talk to the people, giving them some good advice. He then took Miles and Derry through the same enlivening bout, ordering them to be at his office the next day at 10 A.M. Again he spoke to the crowd, telling them how he had "fought, bled, and died that they might be free," etc.
While this was going on, to stop such proceedings, I took the deputy sheriff, Wilson, into the dining room, put a decanter of whisky on the sideboard, and told him to get the agent in there, give him a glass to sober him, and, when he came out, take his arm and go direct for the horses. Much to my relief, he got him on his horse and they returned to Greenville. Miles and Derry went to Greenville next day, as ordered. The former came back much subdued and Derry went to an adjoining plantation to work. Ridiculous as the performance was, which lasted over an hour, it had a good effect on the deportment of all the hands on the place.
The military governor had commissioned a man from the North named Webber as sheriff of the county. Bolton, an Irishman, Harris, an educated negro from Ohio, and Horton, a cotton field negro without education, were appointed justices of the peace in Greenville. I will very briefly give you an idea of the administration of justice in a few cases out of many brought before them.
Ed Chamberlain, who had been a negro soldier in the United States army, occupied a house at the southern gate of the plantation, and he was instructed to keep the gate shut on account of cattle. Twice without cause he had told H. N. Hood, a neighboring planter, in an insolent manner: "Shut the gate after you." On a third occasion he repeated the remarks, whereupon Hood and a friend with him gave him a trouncing. They then went to Justice Harris, told him what they had done, and settled the case by each giving him five dollars. On trial day Chamberlain went to court, and when the court adjourned he asked the justice why he did not try his case, and the answer was: "Go home; I tried your complaint long ago."
Another freedman on the place named Nelson one morning got into a triangular fight with his wife and a colored girl. They all started for Greenville to lay their respective grievances before Judge Harris. However, they met Harris on horseback on the road running through the plantation, and he accosted them: "Good morning, ladies and gentleman; where are you going?" They told him that they were going to see him in Greenville, and all made complaint to him there in the road; whereupon he fined each the sum of five dollars, and I had to advance the money or they would have left the plantation. That was summary justice, and an examination of the books by the grand jury showed that he had credited the county with the fifteen dollars.
A third case worthy of notice as illustrating the vigilance of the colored brethren as magistrates is the trial of what may be termed "State of Mississippi vs. S. G. French." John Dixon, a freedman, about Christmas stole two bales of cotton from the ginhouse in open daylight, and being pursued by my manager, threw the bales off his wagon, and they were recovered. I went to Greenville, and before Bolton, the justice of the peace, swore out a warrant for the arrest of Dixon. A number of days passed and he was not arrested. So I sent for Dixon, and settled money accounts with him, and told him to leave the plantation.
Some days after this a deputy negro constable was sent to arrest Dixon; but, meeting one of my hands on the road and making known to him the purport of his visit, he was told: "Go home, nigger; de ginneral done gone settled with John long ago, and John have left the place." So the deputy returned and reported accordingly.
Perhaps it was a week after this that a negro constable came to my house with a warrant to arrest me issued by the cotton-field justice, Horton, charging me with having compounded a felony. Who prompted Horton to issue the warrant I never knew; but, as he employed a "jack-leg" lawyer to keep his docket and act as legal adviser, he may have induced Horton to act in the matter. I asked Frank Valliant, a distinguished lawyer, to take my case and defend me. He said that he had resolved not to argue any case where a negro presided, for he disliked to say, "May it please your honor," to an illiterate negro. However, out of friendship, he said that he would appear for me if I would pay any fine imposed upon him for contempt of court.