University of Virginia Library

22. CHAPTER XXII.
JEGAR SAHADUTHA.

At twelve o'clock, that night, Harry rose from the side of
his sleeping wife, and looked out into the darkness. The
belt of forest which surrounded them seemed a girdle of
impenetrable blackness. But above, where the tree-tops
fringed out against the sky, the heavens were seen of a
deep, transparent violet, blazing with stars. He opened
the door, and came out. All was so intensely still that even
the rustle of a leaf could be heard. He stood listening.
A low whistle seemed to come from a distant part of the
underwood. He answered it. Soon a crackling was heard,
and a sound of cautious, suppressed conversation. In a
few moments a rustling was heard in the boughs overhead.
Harry stepped under.

“Who is there?” he said.

“The camp of the Lord's judgment!” was the answer,
and a dark form dropped on the ground.

“Hannibal?” said Harry.

“Yes, Hannibal!” said the voice.

“Thank God!” said Harry.

But now the boughs of the tree were continually rustling,
and one after another sprang down to the ground, each one
of whom pronounced his name, as he came.

“Where is the prophet?” said one.

“He is not here,” said Harry. “Fear not, he will be
with us.”

The party now proceeded to walk, talking in low
voices.

“There 's nobody from the Gordon place, yet!” said
Harry, uneasily.

“They 'll be along,” said one of them. “Perhaps Hokum
was wakeful, to-night. They 'll give him the slip, though.”

The company had now arrived at the lower portion of the
clearing, where stood the blasted tree, which we formerly
described, with its funeral-wreaths of moss. Over the
grave which had recently been formed there Dred had
piled a rude and ragged monument of stumps of trees, and
tufts of moss, and leaves. In the top of one of the highest
stumps was stuck a pine-knot, to which Harry now applied
a light. It kindled, and rose with a broad, red, fuliginous
glare, casting a sombre light on the circle of dark faces
around. There were a dozen men, mulatto, quadroon, and
negro. Their countenances all wore an expression of stern
gravity and considerate solemnity.

Their first act was to clasp their hands in a circle, and
join in a solemn oath never to betray each other. The moment
this was done, Dred emerged mysteriously from the
darkness, and stood among them.

“Brethren,” he said, “this is the grave of your brother,
whose wife they would take for a prey! Therefore he fled to
the wilderness. But the assembly of the wicked compassed
him about, and the dogs tore him, and licked up his blood,
and here I buried him! Wherefore, this heap is called
Jegar Sahadutha! For the God of Abraham and Nahor,
the God of their fathers, shall judge betwixt us. He that
regardeth not the oath of brethren, and betrayeth counsel,
let his arm fall from his shoulder-blade! Let his arm be
broken from the bone! Behold, this heap shall be a witness
unto you; for it hath heard all the words that ye have
spoken!”

A deep-murmured “Amen” rose solemnly among them.

“Brethren,” said Dred, laying his hand upon Harry,
“the Lord caused Moses to become the son of Pharaoh's
daughter, that he might become learned in the wisdom of
the Egyptians, to lead forth his people from the house of

bondage. And, when he slew an Egyptian, he fled into the
wilderness, where he abode certain days, till the time of the
Lord was come. In like manner hath the Lord dealt with
our brother. He shall expound unto you the laws of the
Egyptians; and for me, I will show unto you what I have
received from the Lord.”

The circle now sat down on the graves which were scattered
around, and Harry thus spoke:

“Brothers, how many of you have been at Fourth of July
celebrations?”

“I have! I have! All of us!” was the deep response,
uttered not eagerly, but in low and earnest tones.

“Brethren, I wish to explain to you to-night the story
that they celebrate. It was years ago that this people
was small, and poor, and despised, and governed by men
sent by the King of England, who, they say, oppressed
them. Then they resolved that they would be free, and
govern themselves in their own way, and make their own
laws. For this they were called rebels and conspirators;
and, if they had failed, every one of their leaders would
have been hung, and nothing more said about it. When
they were agreeing to do this, they met together and signed
a paper, which was to show to all the world the reason why.
You have heard this read by them when the drums were
beating and the banners flying. Now hear it here, while
you sit on the graves of men they have murdered!”

And, standing by the light of the flaring torch, Harry
read that document which has been fraught with so much
seed for all time. What words were those to fall on the ears
of thoughtful bondmen!

“Governments derive their just power from the consent
of the governed.” “When a long train of abuses and
usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, evinces a
determination to reduce them under absolute despotism, it
is their right and their duty to throw off such government.”

“Brothers,” said Harry, “you have heard the grievances
which our masters thought sufficient to make it right for

them to shed blood. They rose up against their king, and
when he sent his armies into the country, they fired at them
from the windows of the houses, and from behind the barns,
and from out of the trees, and wherever they passed, till
they were strong enough to get together an army, and fight
them openly.”

“Yes,” said Hannibal, “I heard my master's father tell
of it. He was one of them.”

“Now,” said Harry, “the Lord judge between us and
them, if the laws that they put upon us be not worse than
any that lay upon them. They complained that they could
not get justice done to them in the courts. But how stands
it with us, who cannot even come into a court to plead?”

Harry then, in earnest and vehement language, narrated
the abuse which had been inflicted upon Milly; and then recited,
in a clear and solemn voice, that judicial decision
which had burned itself into his memory, and which had
confirmed and given full license to that despotic power.
He related the fate of his own contract — of his services for
years to the family for which he had labored, all ending in
worse than nothing. And then he told his sister's history,
till his voice was broken by sobs. The audience who sat
around were profoundly solemn; only occasionally a deep,
smothered groan seemed to rise from them involuntarily.

Hannibal rose. “I had a master in Virginny. He was
a Methodist preacher. He sold my wife and two children
to Orleans, and then sold me. My next wife was took for
debt, and she 's gone.”

A quadroon young man rose. “My mother was held by
a minister in Kentucky. My father was a good, hard-working
man. There was a man set his eye on her, and wanted
her; but she would n't have anything to do with him. Then
she told her master, and begged him to protect her; but
he sold her. Her hair turned all white in that year, and she
went crazy. She was crazy till she died!”

“I 's got a story to tell, on that,” said a middle-aged negro
man, of low stature, broad shoulders, and a countenance

indicative of great resolution, who now rose. “I 's got a
story to tell.”

“Go on, Monday,” said Harry.

“You spoke 'bout de laws. I 's seen 'bout dem ar.
Now, my brother Sam, he worked with me on de great Morton
place, in Virginny. And dere was going to be a
wedding dere, and dey wanted money, and so some of de
colored people was sold to Tom Parker, 'cause Tom Parker
he was a buying up round, dat ar fall; and he sold him to
Souther, and he was one o' yer drefful mean white trash,
dat lived down to de bush. Well, Sam was nigh 'bout
starved, and so he had to help hisself de best way he
could; and he used fur to trade off one ting and 'nother
fur meal to Stone's store, and Souther he told him `dat
he 'd give him hell if he caught him.' So, one day, when he
missed something off de place, he come home and he brought
Stone with him, and a man named Hearvy. He told him
dat he was going to cotch it. I reckon dey was all three
drunk. Any how, dey tied him up, and Souther he never
stopped to cut him, and to slash him, and to hack him; and
dey burned him with chunks from de fire, and dey scalded
him with boiling water. He was strong man, but dey
worked on him dat way all day, and at last he died. Dey
hearn his screeches on all de places round. Now, brethren,
you jest see what was done 'bout it. Why, mas'r and some
of de gen'lemen round said dat Souther `was n't fit to
live,' and it should be brought in de courts; and sure 'nough
it was; and, 'cause he is my own brother, I listened for what
dey would say. Well, fust dey begun with saying dat it
wan't no murder at all, 'cause slaves, dey said, wan't people,
and dey could n't be murdered. But den de man on t' oder
side he read heaps o' tings to show dat dey was people —
dat dey was human critturs. Den de lawyer said dat dere
wan't no evidence dat Souther meant fur to kill him, any
how. Dat it was de right of de master to punish his slave
any way he thought fit. And how was he going to know
dat it would kill him? Well, so dey had it back and forth,

and finally de jury said `it was murder in de second degree.'
Lor! if dat ar 's being murdered in de second degree, I like
to know what de fust is! You see, dey said he must go to
de penitentiary for five years. But, laws, he did n't, 'cause
dere 's ways enough o' getting out of dese yer tings; 'cause
he took it up to de upper court, and dey said `dat it had
been settled dat dere could n't be noting done agin a mas'r
fur no kind of beating or 'busing of der own slaves. Dat
de master must be protected, even if 't was ever so cruel.'[1]

“So, now, brethren, what do you think of dat ar?”

At this moment another person entered the circle. There
was a general start of surprise and apprehension, which immediately
gave place to a movement of satisfaction and
congratulation.

“You have come, have you, Henry?” said Harry.

But at this moment the other turned his face full to the
torch-light, and Harry was struck with its ghastly expression.

“For God's sake, what 's the matter, Henry? Where 's
Hark?”

“Dead!” said the other.

As one struck with a pistol-shot leaps in the air, Harry
bounded, with a cry, from the ground.

“Dead?” he echoed.

“Yes, dead, at last! Dey 's all last night a killing of
him.”

“I thought so! O, I was afraid of it!” said Harry.
“O, Hark! Hark! Hark! God do so to me, and more
also, if I forget this!”

The thrill of a present interest drew every one around
the narrator, who proceeded to tell how “Hark, having
been too late on his return to the plantation, had incurred
the suspicion of being in communication with Harry. How
Hokum, Tom Gordon, and two of his drunken associates,
had gathered together to examine him by scourging. How
his shrieks the night before had chased sleep from every
hut of the plantation. How he died, and gave no sign.”
When he was through, there was dead and awful silence.

Dred, who had been sitting during most of these narrations,
bowed, with his head between his knees, groaning
within himself, like one who is wrestling with repressed
feeling, now rose, and, solemnly laying his hand on the
mound, said:

“Jegar Sahadutha! The God of their fathers judge between
us! If they had a right to rise up for their oppressions,
shall they condemn us? For judgment is turned
away backward, and justice standeth afar off! Truth is
fallen in the street, and equity cannot enter! Yea, truth
faileth, and he that departeth from evil maketh himself a
prey! They are not ashamed, neither can they blush!
They declare their sin as Sodom, and hide it not! The
mean man boweth down, and the great man humbleth himself!
Therefore, forgive them not, saith the Lord!”

Dred paused a moment, and stood with his hands uplifted.
As a thunder-cloud trembles and rolls, shaking with gathering
electric fire, so his dark figure seemed to dilate and
quiver with the force of mighty emotions. He seemed, at
the moment, some awful form, framed to symbolize to human
eye the energy of that avenging justice which all nature
shudderingly declares.

He trembled, his hands quivered, drops of perspiration
rolled down his face, his gloomy eyes dilated with an unutterable
volume of emotion. At last the words heaved

themselves up in deep chest-tones, resembling the wild,
hollow wail of a wounded lion, finding vent in language
to him so familiar, that it rolled from his tongue in a spontaneous
torrent, as if he had received their first inspiration.

“Hear ye the word of the Lord against this people! The
harvest groweth ripe! The press is full! The vats overflow!
Behold, saith the Lord — behold, saith the Lord, I will gather
all nations, and bring them down to the valley of Jehoshaphat,
and will plead with them for my people, whom they
have scattered among the nations! Woe unto them, for
they have cast lots for my people, and given a boy for a
harlot, and sold a girl for wine, that they may drink! For
three transgressions of Israel, and for four, I will not turn
away the punishment thereof, saith the Lord! Because
they sold the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair
of shoes! They pant after the dust on the head of the
poor, and turn aside the way of the meek! And a man and
his father will go in unto the same maid, to profane my holy
name! Behold, saith the Lord, I am pressed under you, as
a cart is pressed full of sheaves!

“The burden of the beasts of the South! The land of
trouble and anguish, from whence cometh the young and
old lion, the viper, and fiery, flying serpent! Go write it
upon a table, and note it in a book, that it may be for time
to come, for ever and ever, that this is a rebellious people,
lying children — children that will not hear the law of the
Lord! Which say to the seers, See not! Prophesy not unto
us right things! Speak unto us smooth things! Prophesy
deceits! Wherefore, thus saith the Holy One of Israel,
Because ye despise his word, and trust in oppression, and
perverseness, and stay thereon; therefore, this iniquity
shall be to you as a breach ready to fall, swelling out in
a high wall, whose breaking cometh suddenly in an
instant! And he shall break it as the breaking of a potter's
vessel!”

Pausing for a moment, he stood with his hands tightly
clasped before him, leaning forward, looking into the distance.

At last, with the action and energy of one who
beholds a triumphant reality, he broke forth:

“Who is this that cometh from Edom, with dyed garments,
from Bozrah? This, that is glorious in his apparel,
travelling in the greatness of his strength?”

He seemed to listen, and, as if he had caught an answer,
he repeated:

“I that speak in righteousness, mighty to save!”

“Wherefore art thou red in thine apparel, and thy garments
like him that treadeth in the wine-press? I have
trodden the wine-press alone, and of the people there
was none with me; for I will tread them in my anger, and
trample them in my fury, and their blood shall be sprinkled
on my garments, and I will stain all my raiment! For the day
of vengeance is in my heart, and the year of my redeemed
is come! And I looked, and there was none to help! And
I wondered that there was none to uphold! Therefore mine
own arm brought salvation, and my fury it upheld me! For
I will tread down the people in mine anger, and make them
drunk in my fury!”

Gradually the light faded from his face. His arms fell.
He stood a few moments with his head bowed down on
his breast. Yet the spell of his emotion held every one
silent. At last, stretching out his hand, he broke forth in
passionate prayer:

“How long, O Lord, how long? Awake! Why sleepest
thou, O Lord? Why withdrawest thou thy hand?
Pluck it out of thy bosom! We see not the sign! There
is no more any prophet, neither any among us, that knoweth
how long! Wilt thou hold thy peace forever? Behold
the blood of the poor crieth unto thee! Behold how they
hunt for our lives! Behold how they pervert justice, and
take away the key of knowledge! They enter not in
themselves, and those that are entering in they hinder!
Behold our wives taken for a prey! Behold our daughters
sold to be harlots! Art thou a God that judgest on the
earth? Wilt thou not avenge thine own elect, that cry

unto thee day and night? Behold the scorning of them
that are at ease, and the contempt of the proud! Behold
how they speak wickedly concerning oppression! They
set their mouth against the heavens, and their tongue
walketh through the earth! Wilt thou hold thy peace for
all these things, and afflict us very sore?”

The energy of the emotion which had sustained him
appeared gradually to have exhausted itself. And, after
standing silent for a few moments, he seemed to gather
himself together as a man awaking out of a trance, and,
turning to the excited circle around him, he motioned them
to sit down. When he spoke to them in his ordinary
tone:

“Brethren,” he said, “the vision is sealed up, and the
token is not yet come! The Lamb still beareth the yoke of
their iniquities; there be prayers in the golden censers
which go up like a cloud! And there is silence in heaven
for the space of half an hour! But hold yourselves in
waiting, for the day cometh! And what shall be the end
thereof?”

A deep voice answered Dred. It was that of Hannibal.

“We will reward them as they have rewarded us! In
the cup that they have filled to us we will measure to them
again!”

“God forbid,” said Dred, “that the elect of the Lord
should do that! When the Lord saith unto us, Smite, then
will we smite! We will not torment them with the scourge
and fire, nor defile their women, as they have done with
ours! But we will slay them utterly, and consume them
from off the face of the earth!”

At this moment the whole circle were startled by the
sound of a voice which seemed to proceed deep in from
among the trees, singing, in a wild and mournful tone, the
familiar words of a hymn:

There was a dead silence as the voice approached still
nearer, and the chorus was borne upon the night air:

And, as the last two lines were sung, Milly emerged and
stood in the centre of the group. When Dred saw her, he
gave a kind of groan, and said, putting his hand out before
his face:

“Woman, thy prayers withstand me!”

“O, brethren,” said Milly, “I mistrusted of yer councils,
and I 's been praying de Lord for you. O, brethren,
behold de Lamb of God! If dere must come a day of vengeance,
pray not to be in it! It 's de Lord's strange work.
O, brethren, is we de fust dat 's been took to de judgment-seat?
dat 's been scourged, and died in torments? O,
brethren, who did it afore us? Did n't He hang bleeding
three hours, when dey mocked Him, and gave Him vinegar?
Did n't He sweat great drops o' blood in de garden?”

And Milly sang again, words so familiar to many of them
that, involuntarily, several voices joined her:

“O, won't it suffice, brethren!” she said. “If de Lord
could bear all dat, and love us yet, shan't we? O, brethren,
dere 's a better way. I 's been whar you be. I 's been in
de wilderness! Yes, I 's heard de sound of dat ar trumpet!
O, brethren! brethren! dere was blackness and darkness
dere! But I 's come to Jesus, de Mediator of de new covenant,
and de blood of sprinkling, which speaketh better
tings than dat of Abel. Has n't I suffered? My heart has
been broke over and over for every child de Lord give me!

And, when dey sold my poor Alfred, and shot him, and
buried him like a dog, O, but did n't my heart burn? O,
how I hated her dat sold him! I felt like I 'd kill her! I
felt like I 'd be glad to see mischief come on her children!
But, brethren, de Lord turned and looked upon me like he
done on Peter. I saw him with de crown o' thorns on his
head, bleeding, bleeding, and I broke down and forgave
her. And de Lord turned her heart, and he was our peace.
He broke down de middle wall 'tween us, and we come
together, two poor sinners, to de foot of de cross. De
Lord he judged her poor soul! She wan't let off from her
sins. Her chil'en growed up to be a plague and a curse to
her! Dey broke her heart! O, she was saved by fire —
but, bress de Lord, she was saved! She died with her poor
head on my arm — she dat had broke my heart! Wan't
dat better dan if I 'd killed her? O, brethren, pray de Lord
to give 'em repentance! Leave de vengeance to him.
Vengeance is mine — I will repay, saith de Lord. Like he
loved us when we was enemies, love yer enemies!”

A dead silence followed this appeal. The key-note of
another harmony had been struck. At last Dred rose up
solemnly:

“Woman, thy prayers have prevailed for this time!” he
said. “The hour is not yet come!”