Shortly after these events Sandy was restored to the bosom5 of the church, and, enfolded by its sheltering arms, was no longer tempted6 to stray from the path of rectitude, but became even a more rigid7 Methodist than before his recent troubles.
Tom Delamere did not call upon Clara again in the character of a lover. Of course they could not help meeting, from time to time, but he never dared presume upon their former relations. Indeed, the social atmosphere of Wellington remained so frigid8 toward Delamere that he left town, and did not return for several months.
Ellis was aware that Delamere had been thrown over, but a certain delicacy9 restrained him from following up immediately the advantage which the absence of his former rival gave him. It seemed to him, with the quixotry of a clean, pure mind, that Clara would pass through a period of mourning for her lost illusion, and that it would be indelicate, for the time being, to approach her with a lover's attentions. The work of the office had been unusually heavy of late. The major, deeply absorbed in politics, left the detail work of the paper to Ellis. Into the intimate counsels of the revolutionary committee Ellis had not been admitted, nor would he have desired to be. He knew, of course, in a general way, the results that it was sought to achieve; and while he did not see their necessity, he deferred10 to the views of older men, and was satisfied to remain in ignorance of anything which he might disapprove11. Moreover, his own personal affairs occupied his mind to an extent that made politics or any other subject a matter of minor12 importance.
As for Dr. Miller13, he never learned of Mr. Delamere's good intentions toward his institution, but regretted the old gentleman's death as the loss of a sincere friend and well-wisher of his race in their unequal struggle.
Despite the untiring zeal14 of Carteret and his associates, the campaign for the restriction15 of the suffrage16, which was to form the basis of a permanent white supremacy17, had seemed to languish18 for a while after the Ochiltree affair. The lull19, however, was only temporary, and more apparent than real, for the forces adverse20 to the negro were merely gathering21 strength for a more vigorous assault. While little was said in Wellington, public sentiment all over the country became every day more favorable to the views of the conspirators22. The nation was rushing forward with giant strides toward colossal23 wealth and world-dominion, before the exigencies24 of which mere3 abstract ethical25 theories must not be permitted to stand. The same argument that justified26 the conquest of an inferior nation could not be denied to those who sought the suppression of an inferior race. In the South, an obscure jealousy27 of the negro's progress, an obscure fear of the very equality so contemptuously denied, furnished a rich soil for successful agitation28. Statistics of crime, ingeniously manipulated, were made to present a fearful showing against the negro. Vital statistics were made to prove that he had degenerated29 from an imaginary standard of physical excellence30 which had existed under the benign31 influence of slavery. Constant lynchings emphasized his impotence, and bred everywhere a growing contempt for his rights.
At the North, a new Pharaoh had risen, who knew not Israel,—a new generation, who knew little of the fierce passions which had played around the negro in a past epoch32, and derived33 their opinions of him from the "coon song" and the police reports. Those of his old friends who survived were disappointed that he had not flown with clipped wings; that he had not in one generation of limited opportunity attained35 the level of the whites. The whole race question seemed to have reached a sort of impasse36, a blind alley37, of which no one could see the outlet38. The negro had become a target at which any one might try a shot. Schoolboys gravely debated the question as to whether or not the negro should exercise the franchise39. The pessimist40 gave him up in despair; while the optimist41, smilingly confident that everything would come out all right in the end, also turned aside and went his buoyant way to more pleasing themes.
For a time there were white men in the state who opposed any reactionary42 step unless it were of general application. They were conscientious43 men, who had learned the ten commandments and wished to do right; but this class was a small minority, and their objections were soon silenced by the all-powerful race argument. Selfishness is the most constant of human motives44. Patriotism45, humanity, or the love of God may lead to sporadic46 outbursts which sweep away the heaped-up wrongs of centuries; but they languish at times, while the love of self works on ceaselessly, unwearyingly, burrowing47 always at the very roots of life, and heaping up fresh wrongs for other centuries to sweep away. The state was at the mercy of venal48 and self-seeking politicians, bent49 upon regaining50 their ascendency at any cost, stultifying51 their own minds by vague sophistries52 and high-sounding phrases, which deceived none but those who wished to be deceived, and these but imperfectly; and dulling the public conscience by a loud clamor in which the calm voice of truth was for the moment silenced. So the cause went on.
Carteret, as spokesman of the campaign, and sincerest of all its leaders, performed prodigies54 of labor55. The Morning Chronicle proclaimed, in season and out, the doctrine56 of "White Supremacy." Leaving the paper in charge of Ellis, the major made a tour of the state, rousing the white people of the better class to an appreciation57 of the terrible danger which confronted them in the possibility that a few negroes might hold a few offices or dictate58 the terms upon which white men should fill them. Difficulties were explained away. The provisions of the Federal Constitution, it was maintained, must yield to the "higher law," and if the Constitution could neither be altered nor bent to this end, means must be found to circumvent59 it.
The device finally hit upon for disfranchising the colored people in this particular state was the notorious "grandfather clause." After providing various restrictions60 of the suffrage, based upon education, character, and property, which it was deemed would in effect disfranchise the colored race, an exception was made in favor of all citizens whose fathers or grandfathers had been entitled to vote prior to 1867. Since none but white men could vote prior to 1867, this exception obviously took in the poor and ignorant whites, while the same class of negroes were excluded.
It was ingenious, but it was not fair. In due time a constitutional convention was called, in which the above scheme was adopted and submitted to a vote of the people for ratification61. The campaign was fought on the color line. Many white Republicans, deluded63 with the hope that by the elimination64 of the negro vote their party might receive accessions from the Democratic ranks, went over to the white party. By fraud in one place, by terrorism in another, and everywhere by the resistless moral force of the united whites, the negroes were reduced to the apathy65 of despair, their few white allies demoralized, and the amendment66 adopted by a large majority. The negroes were taught that this is a white man's country, and that the sooner they made up their minds to this fact, the better for all concerned. The white people would be good to them so long as they behaved themselves and kept their place. As theoretical equals,—practical equality being forever out of the question, either by nature or by law,—there could have been nothing but strife67 between them, in which the weaker party would invariably have suffered most.
Some colored men accepted the situation thus outlined, if not as desirable, at least as inevitable68. Most of them, however, had little faith in this condescending69
Join or Log In!
You need to log in to continue reading