University of Virginia Library

18. CHAPTER XVIII.
DRED.

Harry spent the night at the place of Mr. John Gordon,
and arose the next morning in a very discontented mood of
mind. Nothing is more vexatious to an active and enterprising
person than to be thrown into a state of entire idleness;
and Harry, after lounging about for a short time in
the morning, found his indignation increased by every moment
of enforced absence from the scene of his daily labors
and interests. Having always enjoyed substantially the
privileges of a freeman in the ability to regulate his time
according to his own ideas, to come and go, to buy and
sell, and transact business unfettered by any felt control, he
was the more keenly alive to the degradation implied in his
present position.

“Here I must skulk around,” said he to himself, “like a
partridge in the bushes, allowing everything to run at loose
ends, preparing the way for my being found fault with for a
lazy fellow, by and by; and all for what? Because my
younger brother chooses to come, without right or reason,
to domineer over me, to insult my wife; and because the
laws will protect him in it, if he does it! Ah! ah! that 's
it. They are all leagued together! No matter how right I
am — no matter how bad he is! Everybody will stand up
for him, and put me down; all because my grandmother
was born in Africa, and his grandmother was born in America.
Confound it all, I won't stand it! Who knows what
he 'll be saying and doing to Lisette while I am gone? I 'll
go back and face him, like a man! I 'll keep straight about

my business, and, if he crosses me, let him take care! He
has n't got but one life, any more than I have. Let him look
out!”

And Harry jumped upon his horse, and turned his head
homeward. He struck into a circuitous path, which led
along that immense belt of swampy land, to which the
name of Dismal has been given. As he was riding along,
immersed in thought, the clatter of horses' feet was heard
in front of him. A sudden turn of the road brought him
directly facing to Tom Gordon and Mr. Jekyl, who had
risen early and started off on horseback, in order to reach
a certain stage-dépôt before the heat of the day. There
was a momentary pause on both sides; when Tom Gordon,
like one who knows his power, and is determined to use it
to the utmost, broke out, scornfully:

“Stop, you damned nigger, and tell your master where
you are going!”

“You are not my master!” said Harry, in words whose
concentrated calmness conveyed more bitterness and wrath
than could have been given by the most violent outburst.

“You d—d whelp!” said Tom Gordon, striking him
across the face twice with his whip, “take that, and that!
We 'll see if I 'm not your master! There, now, help yourself,
won't you? Is n't that a master's mark?”

It had been the life-long habit of Harry's position to
repress every emotion of anger within himself. But, at
this moment, his face wore a deadly and frightful expression.
Still, there was something majestic and almost commanding
in the attitude with which he reined back his
horse, and slowly lifted his hand to heaven. He tried to
speak, but his voice was choked with repressed passion.
At last he said:

“You may be sure, Mr. Gordon, this mark will never
be forgotten!”

There are moments of high excitement, when all that is in
a human being seems to be roused, and to concentrate itself
in the eye and the voice. And, in such moments, any man,

apparently by virtue of his mere humanity, by the mere
awfulness of the human soul that is in him, gains power to
over-awe those who in other hours scorn him. There was
a minute's pause, in which neither spoke; and Mr. Jekyl,
who was a man of peace, took occasion to touch Tom's
elbow, and say:

“It seems to me this is n't worth while — we shall miss
the stage.” And, as Harry had already turned his horse
and was riding away, Tom Gordon turned his, shouting
after him, with a scornful laugh:

“I called on your wife before I came away, this morning,
and I liked her rather better the second time than I did the
first!”

This last taunt flew like a Parthian arrow backward, and
struck into the soul of the bondman with even a keener
power than the degrading blow. The sting of it seemed to
rankle more bitterly as he rode along, till at last he dropped
the reins on his horse's neck, and burst into a transport of
bitter cursing.

“Aha! aha! it has come nigh thee, has it? It toucheth
thee, and thou faintest!” said a deep voice from the swampy
thicket beside him.

Harry stopped his horse and his imprecations. There was
a crackling in the swamp, and a movement among the copse
of briers; and at last the speaker emerged, and stood before
Harry. He was a tall black man, of magnificent stature
and proportions. His skin was intensely black, and polished
like marble. A loose shirt of red flannel, which
opened very wide at the breast, gave a display of a neck
and chest of herculean strength. The sleeves of the shirt,
rolled up nearly to the shoulders, showed the muscles of
a gladiator. The head, which rose with an imperial air
from the broad shoulders, was large and massive, and developed
with equal force both in the reflective and perceptive
department. The perceptive organs jutted like dark
ridges over the eyes, while that part of the head which
phrenologists attribute to the moral and intellectual sentiments,

rose like an ample dome above them. The large eyes
had that peculiar and solemn effect of unfathomable blackness
and darkness which is often a striking characteristic
of the African eye. But there burned in them, like tongues
of flame in a black pool of naphtha, a subtle and restless fire,
that betokened habitual excitement to the verge of insanity.
If any organs were predominant in the head, they were those
of ideality, wonder, veneration, and firmness; and the whole
combination was such as might have formed one of the wild
old warrior prophets of the heroic ages. He wore a fantastic
sort of turban, apparently of an old scarlet shawl, which
added to the outlandish effect of his appearance. His nether
garments, of coarse negro-cloth, were girded round the
waist by a strip of scarlet flannel, in which was thrust a
bowie-knife and hatchet. Over one shoulder he carried a
rifle, and a shot-pouch was suspended to his belt. A rude
game-bag hung upon his arm. Wild and startling as the
apparition might have been, it appeared to be no stranger to
Harry; for, after the first movement of surprise, he said, in
a tone of familiar recognition, in which there was blended
somewhat of awe and respect:

“O, it is you, then, Dred! I did n't know that you
were hearing me!”

“Have I not heard?” said the speaker, raising his arm,
and his eyes gleaming with wild excitement. “How long
wilt thou halt between two opinions? Did not Moses refuse
to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter? How long
wilt thou cast in thy lot with the oppressors of Israel, who
say unto thee, `Bow down that we may walk over thee'?
Shall not the Red Sea be divided? `Yea,' saith the Lord,
`it shall.'”

“Dred! I know what you mean!” said Harry, trembling
with excitement.

“Yea, thou dost!” said the figure. “Yea, thou dost!
Hast thou not eaten the fat and drunk the sweet with the
oppressor, and hid thine eyes from the oppression of thy
people? Have not our wives been for a prey, and thou

hast not regarded? Hath not our cheek been given to the
smiter? Have we not been counted as sheep for the slaughter?
But thou saidst, Lo! I knew it not, and didst hide
thine eyes! Therefore, the curse of Meroz is upon thee,
saith the Lord. And thou shalt bow down to the oppressor,
and his rod shall be upon thee; and thy wife shall be for
a prey!”

“Don't talk in that way! — don't!” said Harry, striking
out his hands with a frantic gesture, as if to push back the
words. “You are raising the very devil in me!”

“Look here, Harry,” said the other, dropping from the
high tone he at first used to that of common conversation,
and speaking in bitter irony, “did your master strike you?
It 's sweet to kiss the rod, is n't it? Bend your neck and
ask to be struck again! — won't you? Be meek and lowly;
that 's the religion for you! You are a slave, and you wear
broadcloth, and sleep soft. By and by he will give you a
fip to buy salve for those cuts! Don't fret about your wife!
Women always like the master better than the slave! Why
should n't they? When a man licks his master's foot, his
wife scorns him, — serves him right. Take it meekly, my
boy! `Servants, obey your masters.' Take your master's
old coats — take your wife when he 's done with her — and
bless God that brought you under the light of the Gospel!
Go! you are a slave! But, as for me,” he said, drawing
up his head, and throwing back his shoulders with a
deep inspiration, “I am a free man! Free by this,”
holding out his rifle. “Free by the Lord of hosts, that
numbereth the stars, and calleth them forth by their names.
Go home — that 's all I have to say to you! You sleep in a
curtained bed. — I sleep on the ground, in the swamps!
You eat the fat of the land. I have what the ravens bring
me! But no man whips me! — no man touches my wife!
— no man says to me, `Why do ye so?' Go! you are a
slave! — I am free!” And, with one athletic bound, he
sprang into the thicket, and was gone.

The effect of this address on the already excited mind of

the bondman may be better conceived than described. He
ground his teeth, and clenched his hands.

“Stop!” he cried, “Dred, I will — I will — I 'll do as
you tell me — I will not be a slave!”

A scornful laugh was the only reply, and the sound of
crackling footsteps retreated rapidly. He who retreated
struck up, in a clear, loud voice, one of those peculiar melodies
in which vigor and spirit are blended with a wild, inexpressible
mournfulness. The voice was one of a singular
and indescribable quality of tone; it was heavy as the subbass
of an organ, and of a velvety softness, and yet it
seemed to pierce the air with a keen dividing force which
is generally characteristic of voices of much less volume.
The words were the commencement of a wild camp-meeting
hymn, much in vogue in those parts:

There was a wild, exultant fulness of liberty that rolled in
the note; and, to Harry's excited ear, there seemed in it a
fierce challenge of contempt to his imbecility, and his soul
at that moment seemed to be rent asunder with a pang such
as only those can know who have felt what it is to be a
slave. There was an uprising within him, vague, tumultuous,
overpowering; dim instincts, heroic aspirations; the
will to do, the soul to dare; and then, in a moment, there
followed the picture of all society leagued against him, the
hopeless impossibility of any outlet to what was burning
within him. The waters of a nature naturally noble, pent
up, and without outlet, rolled back upon his heart with a
suffocating force; and, in his hasty anguish, he cursed the
day of his birth. The spasm of his emotion was interrupted
by the sudden appearance of Milly coming along
the path.

“Why, bless you, Milly,” said Harry, in sudden surprise,
“where are you going?”

“O, bless you, honey, chile, I 's gwine on to take de
stage. Dey wanted to get up de wagon for me; but, bless
you, says I, what you s'pose de Lord gin us legs for? I
never wants no critturs to tug me round, when I can walk
myself. And, den, honey, it 's so pleasant like, to be a
walking along in de bush here, in de morning; 'pears like
de voice of de Lord is walking among de trees. But,
bless you, chile, honey, what 's de matter o' yer face?”

“It 's Tom Gordon, d—n him!” said Harry.

“Don't talk dat ar way, chile!” said Milly; using the
freedom with Harry which her years and weight of character
had gradually secured for her among the members of the
plantation.

“I will talk that way! Why should n't I? I am not
going to be good any longer.”

“Why, 't won't help de matter to be bad, will it, Harry?
'Cause you hate Tom Gordon, does you want to act just like
him?”

“No!” said Harry, “I won't be like him, but I 'll have
my revenge! Old Dred has been talking to me again, this
morning. He always did stir me up so that I could hardly
live; and I won't stand it any longer!”

“Chile,” said Milly, “you take care! Keep clear on
him! He 's in de wilderness of Sinai; he is with de blackness,
and darkness, and tempest. He han't come to de
heavenly Jerusalem. O! O! honey! dere 's a blood of
sprinkling dat speaketh better things dan dat of Abel.
Jerusalem above is free — is free, honey; so, don't you
mind, now, what happens in dis yer time.”

“Ah, ah, Aunt Milly! this may do well enough for old
women like you; but, stand opposite to a young fellow like
me, with good strong arms, and a pair of doubled fists, and
a body and soul just as full of fight as they can be; it don't
answer to go to telling about a heavenly Jerusalem! We
want something here. We 'll have it too! How do you
know there is any heaven, any how?”

“Know it?” said Milly, her eye kindling, and striking her

staff on the ground. “Know it? I knows it by de hankering
arter it I got in here;” giving her broad chest a
blow which made it resound like a barrel. “De Lord
knowed what he was 'bout when he made us. When he
made babies rooting round, with der poor little mouths
open, he made milk, and de mammies for 'em too. Chile,
we 's nothing but great babies, dat an't got our eyes
opened — rooting round and round; but de Father 'll feed
us yet — he will so.”

“He 's a long time about it,” said Harry, sullenly.

“Well, chile, an't it a long time 'fore your corn sprouts —
a long time 'fore it gets into de ears? — but you plants, for
all dat. What 's dat to me what I is here? — Shan't I reign
with de Lord Jesus?”

“I don't know,” said Harry.

“Well, honey, I does! Jest so sure as I 's standing on
dis yer ground, I knows in a few years I shall be reigning
with de Lord Jesus, and a casting my crown at his
feet. Dat 's what I knows. Flesh and blood did n't reveal
it unto me, but de Spirit of de Father. It 's no odds to me
what I does here; every road leads straight to glory, and
de glory an't got no end to it!” And Milly uplifted her
voice in a favorite stave —

“Chile,” said she to him, solemnly, “I an't a fool.
Does ye s'pose dat I thinks folks has any business to be
sitting on der cheers all der life long, and working me,
and living on my money? Why, I knows dey han't! An't
it all wrong, from fust to last, de way dey makes merchandise
o' us! Why, I knows it is; but I 's still about it, for
de Lord's sake. I don't work for Miss Loo — I works for de
Lord Jesus; and he is good pay — no mistake, now I tell
you.”

“Well,” said Harry, a little shaken, but not convinced,
“after all, there is n't much use in trying to do any other
way. But you 're lucky in feeling so, Aunt Milly; but I
can't.”

“Well, chile, any way, don't you do nothing rash, and
don't you hear him. Dat ar way out is through seas of
blood. Why, chile, would you turn against Miss Nina?
Chile, if they get a going, they won't spare nobody. Don't
you start up dat ar tiger; 'cause, I tell ye, ye can't chain
him, if ye do!”

“Yes,” said Harry, “I see it 's all madness, perfect madness;
there 's no use thinking, no use talking. Well, good-morning,
Aunt Milly. Peace go with you!” And the
young man started his horse, and was soon out of sight.