CHAPTER III
A LOVER OF LINCOLN
There was an awkward pause. The band, already on its way toward theprisoner, halted. The man who had been pushing Bannister along,loosened his hold. No one seemed quite ready to answer Miss Stark’squestion. At last, the chairman of the meeting, feeling that the dutyof acting as spokesman devolved properly upon him, replied:--
“The man is a traitor, Miss Stark. He is not fit to remain with us. Itis for our own protection that we are sending him away.”
Sarah Jane Stark tossed her head scornfully.
“Well,” she said, “I don’t see that any of you are in very great orimmediate personal danger. And as for bravery, it don’t take muchcourage for fifty men to set on one man and tie his hands behind hisback and buffet and abuse him. I’ve watched the whole thing, and Idon’t like it. The man made a fool of himself, that’s true, and JudgeMorgan told him so. Now you’re making fools of yourselves, and it’stime some one told you so. I thought I’d be the one, that’s all.”
“But, Miss Stark,” persisted the chairman, “he’s a copperhead, he’s adefamer of the President and the country, he deserves no consideration,either from us or from you.”
“Yes,” added one in the crowd, “and he’s a member of the Knights of theGolden Circle, and they plot treason and murder.”
Then Bannister found his voice for the first time in many minutes.
“That’s a lie,” he said. “I’m not a member of the Knights of the GoldenCircle. I plot nothing. What I think, I say. What I do, I’m not ashamedof. What you cowards can do to me, I’m not afraid of.”
Sarah Jane Stark turned on him savagely.
“You shut up!” she commanded. “I’m doing the talking for thisdelegation.”
Then again she addressed the chairman of the meeting.
“You ought to know,” she said, “that I’m no copperhead. I detest ’em.You ought to know that with two brothers and a nephew in the Unionarmies I have some sympathy with the soldiers. And if I ever loved aman in my life I love Abe Lincoln. But there’s nothing I love quite somuch as I do fair play. And this isn’t fair play.”
“THIS ISN’T FAIR PLAY.”]
It was strange how quiet the crowd had become. But then, when SarahJane Stark had anything to say, people were always ready to listen.
“Now, the best thing for you people to do,” she added, “the decentthing to do, is to loosen this man’s hands, give him his coat and hat,and let him go quietly away to reflect on his monumental foolishness.”
She was already untying the handkerchief that bound Bannister’s wriststogether as she spoke.
“Folly like his,” she went on, “brings its own reward. Maybe the goodLord wants him for a Union soldier and will supervise the draft to thatend. So it isn’t for you to fly in the face of Providence and spoil itall before the time is ripe. And you,” giving Bannister a little pushas she spoke, “you go home and get down on your knees and pray forcommon sense.”
No one else on earth, save possibly his own cherished wife, could havesealed Rhett Bannister’s lips and started him homeward this day. But hehad respect for Sarah Jane Stark. Along with his townsmen, he honoredher motives, deferred to her judgment, and obeyed her commands. So,almost unconsciously, before he fairly knew what he was doing, beforehe had time to think whether he was retreating ignominiously from hisenemies, or leaving them in disgust, he found himself alone on thehighway walking toward his home.
When he reached his house, he found his wife and children allwaiting for him on the porch. Much as Bob liked music and crowdsand excitement, he had not cared to go up to the village to-day, andhad induced Louise to stay at home with him. And as for poor Mrs.Bannister, she shrank with dread from meeting any of her neighbors.
The fact that something had happened to him during his two hours’absence Bannister could not conceal. It was too evident, from hisappearance, that he had been roughly treated. But neither of hischildren dared to ask him questions, and his wife contented herselfwith smoothing back his hair and rearranging his tie, knowing full wellin her fluttering and fearful heart, that vengeance had been meted outto him, and that sooner or later she would know the whole unhappy story.
After supper Bob set off some modest fireworks that he had purchaseda few days before--two or three rockets, a dozen Roman candles, somepin wheels and giant crackers. And so, as darkness descended, theBannister family found some little consolation, some little relief fromthe nervous strain of the last few days, in the temporary pleasure ofilluminated patriotism.
Yet, through it all, there was anxiety and apprehension. Wrought up bymusic and oratory and fireworks and news of victories, there was notelling what excesses the ultra-patriotic, irrepressible young peopleof the village might indulge in at the expense of a hated copperhead.Every noise from the direction of the town, every sound of hoofbeatson the highway, of footfalls on the side path, sent a thrill to thenerves and a chill to the heart of Mary Bannister. But, as the eveningwore on without incident, she began to feel a measure of relief. Thenthe gate-latch clicked and some one entered the yard and started upthe path toward the house. But the suspense of uncertainty lasted onlyfor a moment, for the heavy strokes of the cane on the walk, and theuncertain footsteps, announced the approach of their next neighbor tothe east, Seth Mills. He was cordially greeted and invited to a seaton the porch.
“I’ve just heard,” he explained, “what happened up-town to-day, an’ Ithought I’d come over an’ tell ye--”
“Mary,” said Bannister, “don’t you think you had better take Louise upto bed? It’s getting quite late. You may stay, Robert, if you wish.”
And when the woman and child had said good-night and had gone, heturned to his visitor and continued: “Pardon me for interrupting you,Seth; but you see they don’t know, and I thought it was hardly worthwhile to have their feelings worked up over it.”
“Jest so! Jest so!” responded the old man. “Protect the women andchildren. That’s what I say. But they wasn’t much I wanted to tell ye,Rhett, only that, accordin’ to my views, they didn’t treat ye right,an’ I’m sorry for it. They ort to be ashamed of it themselves. Mebbethey will be when they’ve hed time to think it over. Me an’ you don’tagree in politics, Rhett, nor about the war, but that ain’t no reasonwhy we shouldn’t treat each other decent. That’s what I say.”
“And you are right about it, Seth. But I believe that you and I arethe only two men in this community who could discuss their politicaldifferences without passion. You are of Kentucky ancestry, I am ofSouth Carolinian. These other people here are either of the domineeringYankee type, or else are descended from the stubborn Pennsylvaniasettlers. Perhaps that accounts for their lack of fairness and reason.I have often wondered how Abraham Lincoln, with his Virginia ancestry,his Kentucky birth, and his western training, could be so narrow, soillogical, so illiberal, so utterly heartless as he has shown himselfto be.”
“I don’t think them are proper words, Rhett, to apply to AbrahamLincoln. I knowed him personally, you know, back in Illinois. I’vetold you that a hundred times. An’ I’ve studied him a good deal sencethen, and I’ve come to the conclusion ’at they ain’t no man ever livedin this country who can see furder ahead, an’ know better how to gitthere’n Abe Lincoln. An’ I don’t believe no other president, or king,or emperor for that matter, has ever felt on his heart a personalresponsibility for his country as Abe Lincoln has felt it, or hasstrove or struggled or strained or labored or prayed as Abe Lincolnhes, that his country might be saved an’ become great an’ happy. That’swhat I say.”
“But, Seth, that’s mere sentiment. Take the facts. Why can’t he see, ifhe has such marvelous insight, that the South is demanding merely herrights? All she wants now is to be let alone, to take her property andgo, to govern herself as she sees fit. And when she is assured that shemay do so, this war will cease, peace will come, the horrible strugglewill be at an end. Why does Abraham Lincoln persist in striving tocompel this brave people,
by force of arms, to pass again under thegalling yoke of his hostile government?”
“I’ll tell ye why, Rhett. It’s becuz Abe Lincoln sees better’n they dowhat’s best fur ’em. He sees that ef the South was permitted to go an’set up a separate govamint, an’ hev her own institutions an’ flag, an’foreign ministers, an’ all that, ’at the next thing, by cracky! theWestern states ’d want to jine up an’ do the same thing, with jest asgood reason, an’ then the New England states ’d foller suit, an’ inless’n ten years they’d be a dozen different govamints, in place of theold United States, an’ they’d be everlastingly at each other’s throats,an’ they wouldn’t one of ’em amount to a hill o’ beans. It’d be rankfolly; that’s what I say.”
“I know, but, Seth, it’s not necessary to borrow trouble for thefuture. If this man would only do what is right and just in thepresent, the future would take care of itself. It always does. Heclaims that he wants to save the Union. Very well. There’s a way openfor him. The South is not anxious to leave the Union. If she wereassured of the rights and consideration to which she is entitled, shewould stay with us. Abraham Lincoln, by virtue of the power of hisoffice, could secure those rights to her if he would. She must havesuch voice in the control of this government as she is entitled to haveby reason of her ancestry, her intelligence, and her patriotism. Andshe must have protection for her property at home and abroad, whetherthat property consists of land, money, or slaves. Give her thesethings and she would be back with us at once. Oh, if Abraham Lincolncould only see this and act accordingly! If he would only cut loosefrom the radicals and the abolitionists, and the petty politicianswho control him, and who even now treat him behind his back withridicule and contempt; if he would only heed the counsels of suchmen as Vallandigham, Fernando Wood, Judge Woodward, and Judge Taney,patriots all of them; if he would even now sue for an honorable peaceand strive for a united country, he would get it and get it abundantly.But, alas! your Lincoln, with his assumed simplicity, his high-soundingphrases, and his crafty logic, is, after all, but a coward and atime-server, bending the country to his own selfish ends, plunging herinto destruction in order that the bloody zealots at Washington may besatisfied. Oh, the folly, the misery, the tragedy of it all!”
The old man did not answer at once. He sat, for a full minute,looking off to the faint line that marked the western hill-range fromthe star-flecked sky. Over in the corner of the porch the boy, whohad listened intently, breathlessly, to the discussion, moved anddrew nearer. From somewhere in the house came the faint music of agood-night song. Then Seth Mills, straightening up in his chair, tookup again the thread of conversation.
“I don’t see as it’s any use fur you an’ me to argy this thing, Rhett.We don’t git no nearer together. We’ve each got our opinions, an’so fur as I can see, we’re likely to keep ’em. But you’ve called AbeLincoln a coward. Now, I want to tell you somethin’. I knowed Lincolnout there in New Salem when he was runnin’ Denton Offut’s store. I’vetold ye that before. An’ I’ve told ye how the Clary’s Grove boys comedown one day to match Jack Armstrong ag’inst Lincoln in a wrastlin’match. An’ how, when Jack tried a foul, Abe got mad, an’ ketched himby the throat an’ give him the blamedest shakin’ up he ever hed in hislife. I didn’t see that, but I know the story’s straight. An’ I’vetold ye how he straddled a log with a rope tied to it, an’ pushed outinto the Sangamon River at flood, that spring after the deep snow, an’went tearin’ down with the current, an’ saved the lives o’ three mena-clingin’ to a tree-top in midstream, an’ come near a-losin’ of hisown life a-doin’ of it. I seen him do that myself. An’ one night, whenwe was settin’ round the stove in Offut’s store, swoppin’ yarns, JimHanniwell come in considable the worse fur liquor, an’ begun a-cussin’an’ a-swearin’ like he us’ally did when he was drunk. An’ some womencome in to buy somethin’, an’ Jim never stopped, an’ Lincoln says,‘Jim, that’ll do, they’s women here.’ An’ Jim allowed he’d say what heblame pleased, women or no women, an’ he did. An’ w’en the women wasgone, Lincoln come out aroun’ from behind the counter an’ says, ‘Jim,somebody’s got to give you a lickin’ an’ it might as well be me asanybody.’ An’ he took him an’ chucked him out-doors, an’ throwed himinto the mud in the road, an’ rubbed dog-fennel into his mouth, tillthe feller yelled fur mercy. I seen him do that too. Mebbe I’ve told yeall these things before, an’ mebbe I ain’t; but I never told you, norno one else, what I’m goin’ to tell ye now, an’ I wouldn’t tell ye thisef you hadn’t ’a’ said Abe Lincoln was heartless an’ a coward. It wasin that same winter of ’32. I was out with the Clary’s Grove boys onenight, an’ the liquor went round perty free, an’ to make a long storyshort, I was layin’ in a snow-bank alongside the road, about midnight,half a mile from my cabin, dead drunk, an’ the weather around zero.An’ Abe Lincoln happened along that way an’ found me. It ain’t a nicestory, Rhett, so fur’s I’m concerned, but I’m a-talkin’ plain to-night.He wasn’t under no obligation to me. I wasn’t much account them days,anyway. But he turned me over an’ seen who I wuz an’ what the matterwuz, an’ then he twisted me up onto his long back, Abe Lincoln did, an’toted me that hull half-mile up-hill, in zero weather, to my home an’my wife, God bless her, an’ he dropped me on the bed an’ he says, ‘Lethim sleep it off, Mis’ Mills; he’ll feel better in the mornin’; an’when he wakes up tell him Abe Lincoln asks him not to drink any more.’An’ I ain’t, Rhett,--I ain’t teched a drop o’ liquor sence that night.But what I want to say is that the man that had strength enough an’heart enough to do that fur me who was nothin’ to him, has got strengthenough an’ heart enough an’ grit enough to carry this country that heloves, on his bent shoulders, through the awfulest storm that everswept it, till he brings it home safe an’ sound an’ unbroken to all ofus. It’s a mighty task, Rhett Bannister; but he’s a-goin’ to do it; Iknow ’im, an’ I tell ye he’s a-goin’ to do it; an’ when he’s done it,you an’ me an’ ev’ry man ’at loves his country as he ort to, is goin’to git down on our knees an’ thank God ’at Abraham Lincoln ever lived.”
Clear and resonant on the night air the old man’s voice rang as hefinished his story and rose to his feet. And while his face could notbe seen for the darkness, they who heard him felt that it was aglowwith enthusiasm and love for the largest-minded, biggest-hearted manthat had ever crossed his path--Abraham Lincoln. And Bob, leaning farforward in his chair, drinking in every word of the story, thrilledwith the earnestness of the speaker, felt his heart fired anew withreverence and enthusiasm for the great war-president, and with zeal forthe cause which he had so faithfully espoused.
Rhett Bannister was too much of a gentleman and too deeply artistic intemperament to try to break with argument or depreciation the force ofthe old man’s recital.
“Oh, well!” he said, rising. “We all have our heroes. This would be asad world if there were no heroes to worship. And I can’t blame you,Seth, for having put a halo around Lincoln’s head.”
“Thank you, Rhett; good-night!”
The old man limped slowly down the path and out into the road andturned his face toward home. After that, to those who sat upon theporch, the quiet of the windless, starlit summer night was unbroken.Over in the direction of the village an occasional rocket flared upinto the sky and fell back into darkness--nothing more.
But from that night the dominating personality in Bob Bannister’slife was Abraham Lincoln. Look which way he would, the vision of thatrugged, kindly face, which he had seen so often pictured, and the tall,gaunt form, stood out ever before his eyes, heroic, paternal, potentialto the uttermost. From Seth Mills he obtained a small volume publishedin 1860 reciting the President’s career. And from the same source hegot what was much better, that modest, unique sketch of Lincoln’s life,written by himself at about the same time for the same purpose. Thesebooks he read and reread many times, and the oftener he read them thegreater grew his admiration for the one great hero of his thought andlife.
In the meant
ime, under the conscription act of March 3, 1863, put inforce by the proclamation of the President, the enrollment for thedraft went on. In many of the states the drawings were made in July.On the thirteenth of that month began the draft riots in the city ofNew York, which were suppressed only after the destruction by the mobof much property, after the shedding of much blood and the loss ofmany lives. The country was deeply stirred. The anti-war party tookadvantage of the opportunity to denounce the government at Washingtonopenly and bitterly. Only in communities where the sentiment wasintensely patriotic was the policy of the draft upheld. Mount Hermonwas one of these communities. Already partially depopulated by hervoluntary contributions of men to the Union armies, she neverthelessaccepted the situation philosophically and cheerfully, believing withLincoln, that this was the only practical way to put a speedy end tothe war.
But to Rhett Bannister this draft was the crowning act of infamyperpetrated by a tyrannical government. His whole nature rebelledagainst the idea of being compelled, on pain of death, to bear armsagainst his brothers of the South whom he believed to be absolutelyin the right. It was not until September, however, that the drawingfor the Congressional district in which he resided, the Eleventhof Pennsylvania, took place at Easton under the supervision of theprovost-marshal, Captain Samuel Yohe.
It happened that on the afternoon of the last day of the drawing Bobwent up to the village to make some purchases and do some errands forhis father. Since his unfortunate experience on Independence Day RhettBannister had not often been seen among his neighbors. Aside from afew of the more radical sympathizers with the Southern cause, not manypeople sought him socially, and by the entire Union element he waspractically ostracized.
The condemnation visited on his father Bob could not wholly escape.While there were few who knew of his own loyalty, there were manywho knew only that he was the son of Rhett Bannister the despisedcopperhead. So, in these days, when Bob went up to the village hespent no time in loitering, or visiting, or playing with his formerschoolfellows. His errands done, he started without delay on his waytoward home.
But, on this September afternoon, there was excitement at the village.For two successive days the names drawn from the wheel at Easton hadincluded but a bare half-dozen from Mount Hermon. And these were thenames of men who could well afford to pay the three hundred dollarsdemanded by the government as the price of their release from service.But to-day, the last day of the drawing, it was more than probable thatthe number of men drafted from Mount Hermon would be at least doubled.
So, as the day wore on, the crowd about the door of the post-officeincreased. At five o’clock a special messenger would arrive fromCarbon Creek with a list of the men that day drafted from Mount Hermontownship, the list having been sent by telegraph from Easton to thatstation.
When finally the messenger arrived, Bob was listening with breathlessinterest to a discussion concerning the Emancipation Proclamation, andit was only when he heard some one shout, “Here’s the list!” that herealized what had happened.
“Let Adam Johns read it,” demanded a man in the crowd.
Whereupon the young schoolmaster, mounting a chair, and unfolding thepaper placed in his hands, began to read. And the very first name thathe read was his own. He looked out calmly over the group of men beforehim, his face paling somewhat with the shock of the news.
“I will go,” he said. “I ought to have gone before. I am ashamed tohave waited for--for this--but--”
“You’re all right, Adam!” interrupted some one in the crowd, who knewhow the schoolmaster’s widowed mother leaned on him for comfort andsupport, “you’re all right. There’s a dozen of us here that’ll be sonsto her when you go.”
The young man wiped from his eyes the sudden moisture that dimmed hissight, and went on with the reading of the list. It was not a long one.There were some surprises, but there was no demonstration. For the mostpart the reading was greeted with the silence of intense earnestness.And the very last name on the list was the name of Rhett Bannister. Theschoolmaster’s hand grasping the paper fell to his side. For an instantno one spoke. Then a man shouted, “Hurrah for the draft!” and anotherone cried, “Uncle Sam’s got him now!” and then, amid the confusion ofvoices, men were heard everywhere congratulating one another on thedrafting of Rhett Bannister.
With flushed face Bob started for the door, and the crowd parted to lethim pass. But outside he ran into a group of his schoolmates, the sameboys who had court-martialed him and dismissed him in disgrace fromtheir company three months before.
“Old man got struck with lightnin’ this time, didn’t he, Bob?” calledout Sam Powers.
“He’ll skedaddle for Pike County when he hears about it,” added“Brilly.” “Better run home an’ tell him, quick.”
“He don’t dare to,” responded Sam. “I’ll dare you,” he continued,shaking his forefinger in Bob’s face, “to go home an’ tell yourcopperhead dad he’s drafted!”
“Aw, shucks!” exclaimed Bill Hinkle. “You fellows are smart, ain’t you!Let him alone. He ain’t done nothin’ to you. Aw, shucks!”
And then Bob got angry.
“It’s none o’ you fellows’ business,” he said, “whether my father’sdrafted or not. You’re bullies an’ cowards, the whole lot of you! Getout o’ my way!”
And so, with flashing eye, heaving breast, erect head, he passedthrough the crowd of boys untouched. Awed and silenced by his outburstof wrath, they dared not molest him. But, as he went down the roadthrough the gathering twilight toward his home, he began to wonder if,after all, Sam Powers was not right. Would he dare to tell his father?