The Boys of '61 Part 52

Sherman's "b.u.mmers."

He explained the cause of the war: how the Rebels fired upon the flag, how they hated freedom, and wished to perpetuate slavery, which produced the war, that, in turn, under G.o.d's providence, had made them free men. They were free, but they must labor to live. Their relations to their masters had all been changed. They could go where they pleased, do what they pleased, provided they did that which was right; but they had no claim upon their masters,-they must work for themselves. All wealth came from the soil, and by cultivating the ground they could obtain food, and thus increase their wealth. He read and explained General Sherman's order, and told them of the advancement which the freedmen had made at Beaufort. They had comfortable homes, their children were attending school, and the men and women had almost forgotten that they had been slaves. One man had acc.u.mulated ten thousand dollars in four years; another was worth five thousand. He advised them to go upon the islands and take possession of the abandoned lands. He also advised the young and able-bodied to enlist in the service of the United States. They were citizens, and they must begin to do their part as citizens. They were free, but there was still some fighting to be done to secure their liberty.

Rev. Mr. French also addressed them.

"Your freedom," said he, "is the gift of G.o.d. The President has proclaimed it, and the brave men of General Sherman's army have brought it to you."

"G.o.d bless General Sherman! Amen! That's so!" were the enthusiastic responses. They clapped their hands and gave expression to their joy in emphatic demonstrations. It was a strange sight,-a sea of turbaned heads in the body of the house, occupied by the women, wearing brightest colored handkerchiefs, or bonnets with flaming ribbons; while above, in the galleries, were two sable clouds of faces. Every window was filled by a joyous, enthusiastic crowd.

"You are to show your late masters that you can take care of yourselves. If I were in your place I would go, if I had to live on roots and water, and take possession of the islands," said Mr. French.

"Yes, sir, dat is what we will do. We're gwine."

"Show your old masters that you can work as hard to keep out of slavery as they did to keep you in bondage. And you must have but one wife, instead of two or three, as you used to do."

There was a great sensation at this point,-an outburst of laughter echoing and re-echoing from floor to ceiling. I was utterly unable to understand how the remark was received, but the sable audience evidently looked upon it as a very funny affair. The negro race has a quick and natural appreciation of anything bordering upon the ridiculous. They boil over with uncontrollable merriment at a very small matter.

"Treat your old masters with all respect; be generous and kind to them. This is your day of rejoicing, and they are drinking their cup of sorrow. Do them good,-help them. Break off bad habits,-be good citizens, truthful and honest. Now, all of you who are ready to scratch for a living,-who are resolved to make your own way in the world,-hold up your hands."

Up went a thousand hands.

"You owe your liberty to the men of the North, to President Lincoln, to the thousands who have died,-to Jesus Christ."

Deep and solemn was the Amen,-a spontaneous outburst of grat.i.tude, welling up from their sympathetic and affectionate natures.

A prayer was offered by Rev. Mr. Houston, of the Third African Baptist Church. It was impa.s.sioned, fervent, and earnest, in which there were thanksgiving, confession of sin, and a pleading for G.o.d's help. The President, the Union army, the Federal government, were remembered. He prayed also that G.o.d would bring the Rebels to see that they ought to lay down their arms and be at peace.

Then in conclusion they sang the hymn,-

"Eternal are thy mercies, Lord, Eternal truth attends thy word."

How gloriously the grand old choral of Luther rang! Old men sang,-tottering upon the verge of the grave, their heads white, their voices tremulous, their sight dim; women with scarred backs sang,-who had toiled unrequited in the malarious rice-swamps, who had prayed in dungeons and prisons, who had wept and moaned for their stolen babes,-for their husbands, mangled and torn by bloodhounds. But that was all of the past. The day of jubilee had dawned. They had cried day and night, "O Lord, how long!" But now they had only thanksgiving and praise.

After the meeting there was a general shaking of hands. "Bless de Lord for dis yere day." "May de good Lord be wid you." "I never 'spected to see dis yere day; but de praise belongs to de good Lord; he be wid you, brudder."

Such were the congratulations. There were none of the white people of Savannah present. Before the men of the West entered the city, such a gathering, even for religious wors.h.i.+p, would have been incendiary unless attended by white men. But it was an inauguration of a new era,-a beginning of the settlement of the question over which philanthropists, politicians, and statesmen had puzzled their philosophic brains: "What shall we do with them?"

Rev. Mr. Houston accompanied me to my room, and gave me a history of his life. He was forty-one years old, had always been a slave, and received his freedom at the hands of General Sherman. When a boy his master hired him out to the Marine Hospital. Waiting upon the sailors, he had an opportunity to hear a great deal about the world. They had books and papers. He had a desire to learn to read, and they, not having the black laws of Georgia before their eyes, taught him his letters. Then obtaining a Bible, and other books, he read with great zeal. He wanted to be a preacher, and after examination by the Baptist a.s.sociation, was ordained to preach by white men. He purchased his time before the war, paying fifty dollars a month to his master, and became a provision-dealer, yet preaching on Sundays. He leased the lower story of a building fronting the market, where he sold his meat and where he lived. Above him, up two flights, was the slave-mart of Savannah. He used to go into the country, up the railroad to the centre of the State, to purchase cattle, and became well acquainted with the planters. He heard their discussions on current affairs, and thus received information upon the politics of the country. He gave an account of the state of affairs, of opinions held in the North and in the South at the time when Fremont was a candidate for the Presidency.

"We knew that he was our friend," said Mr. Houston, "and we wanted him elected. We were very much disappointed at the result of that election; but we kept hoping and praying that G.o.d would have mercy on us as a race."

"Did your people understand the points at issue between the South and the North, when the war begun?" I asked.

"Yes, sir, I think we did. When South Carolina fired on Sumter we understood that the North was fighting for the Union. The flag had been insulted, and we thought that you of the North would have s.p.u.n.k enough to resent the insult. Those of us who could read the papers knew that the points at issue really were between Freedom and Slavery."

"What did you think when we were defeated at Mana.s.sas? Did you not despair?"

"No, sir. I knew that the North would not give in for one defeat. Some of our people were down-hearted, but I had faith in G.o.d, sir. I felt that the war must go on till we were made free. Besides, we prayed, sir! There have been a great many prayers, sir, offered up from broken-hearted men and women,-from negro cabins, not in public,-for the success of the North. They could not offer such supplications at church; they were offered to a G.o.d who sees in secret, but who rewards openly. We are receiving all we ever asked for. Bless his holy name."

"You have seen people sold in the market, I suppose?"

"O yes, sir, thousands of them. O, sir, it seems as if I now could hear the groans and cries of mothers and fathers as they marched down those stairs out into the street in gangs,-their chains rattling and clanking on the stairs. It was h.e.l.l, sir! The wailings of the d.a.m.ned can never be more heart-rending, as they were driven out, crying, 'O Lord! have mercy! O ma.s.sa, don't! don't! O my poor children!'"

His eyes shone with a strange light. The muscles of his hands tightened. He arose and walked the room, wiped the tears from his eyes, but composing himself sat down, and said; "Iniquity was at its height when the war began, and it continued till General Sherman came. O, it was terrible! terrible! to be there in that room on the lower floor, and see the hundreds taken out,-to see them nabbed in the streets, or taken from their beds at dead of night by the sheriff, and sold at once; for since the war began white men have been obliged often to raise money suddenly, and slave property being especially insecure, we were liable to be sold at any moment. Runaway slaves were whipped unmercifully. Last summer I saw one receive five hundred lashes out on the Gulf Railroad, because he couldn't give an account of himself. The man who kept the slave-market left the city with a large number of slaves just before Sherman came, taking them South; but he is back in the city. He is a bitter old Rebel."

Mr. Houston and a party of freedmen had been to Skidaway Island to take possession of lands under General Sherman's order, and commence a colony.

They laid out a village, also farm lots of forty acres, set aside one central lot for a church, another for a school-house; then placing numbers in a hat, made the allotment. It was Plymouth Colony repeating itself. They agreed that if any others came to join them they should have equal privileges. So the Mayflower was blooming on the islands of the South Atlantic!

"We shall build our cabins and organize our town government for the maintenance of order," said Mr. Houston.

"I told you that I hired my time of my master," said he. "My master hired my money, and when I asked him for it he refused to pay me; and as I had no power before the law, I could not compel him, and have lost it. I have about five hundred hides, which I would like to send North. I want to purchase a portable saw-mill. We shall need lumber,-must have it to build our houses and our church."

Such was his plan,-indicating a foresight which gave promise of a prosperous future.

Pa.s.sing by a church, I saw the s.e.xton, with brush in hand, sweeping the aisles. The edifice was a substantial, ancient structure, with a mahogany pulpit of the old style, a broad aisle, chandelier pendent from the arched roof, filagree and panel-work around the galleries. Old and aristocratic families had sat in the cus.h.i.+oned pews,-men of vast wealth, owning houses, lands, and slaves. A great organ loomed high up in the gallery, its gilt pipes fronting the pulpit. Marriages and funerals had been solemnized at the altar. For fifteen years, Sunday after Sunday, this s.e.xton had faithfully discharged his duties at the church.

He was stout, thick-set, strong, with well-developed muscles and a clear eye. He was gentlemanly in his deportment, and his voice was one of the most musical I ever heard.

"Shall I take a look at the church?"

"Certainly, sir. Walk in."

His words were as if he had chanted them, so faultless the tone, inflection, and cadence. His features were well formed, but anthracite coal is not blacker than his complexion. I was interested in him at once. He leaning upon his broom, and sitting in one of the pews, had a free conversation upon the events of his life.

He was born in Norfolk, Virginia, in 1829.

"My old master died," said he, "and I fell to his son, who went off to college and got to spreeing it, lost all his property, and of course I had to be sold. I brought twelve hundred dollars,-that was in 1849,-but another man offered the man who bought me a hundred and fifty dollars bonus for his bargain, which was accepted, and I was brought to Charleston. I have always been a slave."

"But you are a free man now; just as free as I am."

"Yes, sir, so General Sherman told me. I had a talk with him; and he talked just as free with me as if I was his own brother. But I don't feel it in my heart, sir, to go away and leave my old master, now that he is poor, and calamity has come upon him."

"Has he always treated you well?"

"Yes, sir,-that is, he never scarred my back. Some masters are mighty hard, sir. I don't blame some negroes for running away from their masters now that they can, for they have been treated mighty bad, sir; but my master has had great calamity come upon him, sir. When I was brought here from Norfolk, master's son Bob, who is in Texas,-a captain in the Southern army now,-saw me, and liked me, and I liked him, and his father bought me for Bob, and Bob and I have been like brothers to each other. I have no complaint to make. But master has lost two sons in Virginia. One of them was killed in the first battle of Mana.s.sas."

"I suppose you have heard many prayers here for Jeff Davis?"

"Yes, sir, and mighty fine sermons for the Southern army, sir; and there have been solemn scenes in this church, sir. Six bodies, one Sunday, after the first battle of Mana.s.sas, were here in this broad aisle. I had the communion-table set out here, right in front of the pulpit, and there they lay,-six of 'em. I couldn't help crying when I saw 'em, for they were just like old friends to me. They used to attend the Sunday school when they were boys, and used to cut up a little wild, and it was my business to keep 'em straight. They belonged to the Oglethorpe Light Infantry, and went with Colonel Bartow. They went away gayly, and thought they were going to Richmond to have a nice time. Their mothers and sisters told them to go and fight the Yankees. They didn't expect to see them brought back dead, I reckon. It was a sad day, sir."

"Then the women were as eager as the men for the war?"

"Yes, sir,-more. They were crazy about fighting the Yankees. I know that some of the boys didn't want to fight against the flag, but the women made 'em. The men had to wear Secession badges, as something to show that they were for the South. If it hadn't been for the ladies, I reckon we wouldn't have had the war."

"What do the women think now?"

"Well, sir, some of them are as bitter as ever they were against the Yankees, but I reckon they don't care to say much; and then there are others who see it ain't no use to try to hold out any longer. There are lots of 'em who have lost their husbands and brothers and sons. I reckon there are very few of the Light Infantry left. I know 'em all, for I took care of their hall,-their armory,-and they made me hoist the flag one day union down. That made me feel very bad, sir. I always loved the flag, and I love it now better than ever. It makes me feel bad to think that my boys fought against it (he meant the boys who attended the Sunday school). But I reckon it is the Lord's doing, sir, and that it will be a blessing to us in the end."