University of Virginia Library

III. PART III.

Ajax' Ordeals on Lynching.

Ajax' Dream.

Ajax' Second Dream.

Ajax' Fright.

Ajax' Soliloquy.

Ajax' Kindred's Soliloquy.

In Africa.

The thoughts of the future doth puzzle my mind,
And O'how I shudder at flitting of time;
It seems that it's hast'ning that dreadful day,
When no where in this dull earth I can stay.
The powers of Europe are taking my land,
And sifting it out at their own command.
They do not attempt to civilize me,
But use all their efforts to make me flee.
Where in this broad domain can I fly,
My body to rest and my mind satisfy?
That land called the Star Spangled Banner of free,
Toward which all the nations at one time did flee,
My countryman Ajax who dwells over there,
Relates that which straightens my sun kinked hair,
He tells me they lynch, tar and burn the Negro,
And mangle them worse than the cruel Nero,
He tells me to stay here and dodge the wild beast,
It's easier than being the lynchers' love feast,
The isles of the sea are all filled up they say,
I wish a new mountain would rise in a day;
The fox and the panther, the birds of the air,
They all have a home in this world somewhere,
The sun shines resplendent in its bright degree,
Dame nature is pleasant, all happy but me,
I long for the wings of the blue bird of flight,
To flee from this plain and in mid ocean light,
And there put an end to these heart-bleeding sighs,
And banish the tears from my long weeping eyes.
O God! is the time ever coming again
When I can see peace in this broad domain?
If not take me now in the palm of thy hand,
And fling me away from this blood-shedding land.
And if I don't land in thy mansions all fair,
Just fling me until I am nothing but air.
The lynchers, the lynchers are here by the throng!
My Savior, my Savior, O, why was I born.

Ajax' Monument.

Ajax' Song.

[_]

(Tune: “Tenting on the Old Camp Ground.”)

Ajax' Meditations.

A Mother's Rage.

Fruits of Lynching.

Ajax' Bashfulness.

Ajax Looks Beyond.

Ajax Votes for McKinley.

Ajax' Conclusion.

Ajax is Chastised.

Ajax at the Centennial.

1897.

Ajax' Appeal to America.

Ajax' Death.

(A DRAMA.)

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ:

• Eli.
• Ramech, wife of Eli.
• Ajax, their son.
• Jobel their infant child.

Time—between 1890 and 1900, A. D.
Scene—A mountain near the Mississippi river where no one inhabits.
Eli.
Its awful the way our people are lynched.
Its a shame we are driven to this
Desolate place to save our lives, simply
Because I had some influence among
My people and refused to use it to
Suit the white man and injure my people.
I have invoked my god without response.
What else can I do?

Ramech.
Name not thy gods, for I condemn them.
For they have urged to curse thy destiny,
And brought on us this desolate spot as home.

Eli.
Don't condemn me, O Ramech! I may err
In my imploring, but should I not pray?

Ramech.
Pray to the God above. You know I oft
Remind you of our wickedness, and warn
You of this Southern god, the white man
Of this degenerate who despises you, and
Whom I despise and you often adore,
But I will not rebuke thee, dear.

Eli.
For six long days have we been in this place,
Our house all gone and of our stock,
Not one remains. My soul! There is no hope.
Heaven is closed and Negro men must die.
Ramech pray to your God.

Ramech.
I have, and oft. But Eli we are doomed!

Eli.
And have we merited this fearful death,
This slow consuming agony, this famine,
Cold and pain, and O my God still more,
This inward consciousness of griefs stored up
For a long time yet! Look how our flocks
Are all swept off, our gathered crops;
Our children dead, but one, and we as outcasts
From our homes waiting for death to come
We were better off before Abe Lincoln freed us.

Jobel.
Mama, I am hungry. Have you no bread?
My feet are wet and cold.

Ramech.
My precious child! I have no bread.
O God protect my child!

Jobel.
Some bread mama, just a little bread.
My feet are so cold.

Ramech.
(Falling on her knees)
O precious God!
Thou knowest the secrets of our hearts, Thou
Knowest my unworthiness. Not for myself
Ask I thy mercy, but for my child. Lord—
O spare my child, my precious child.
He hath not wronged the lynchers.

Eli.
Ramech, I dreamed last night that our
Long departed Ajax had got home, and
Though he left us before the war I feel
Somehow he's yet alive and will
Visit us before we die. Its thirty-five
Years since we've seen him, he's changed I know.

Ramech.
Heaven forbid that he should come to us
While in this valley of sorrows.

Eli.
I see upon the river a skiff which
Contains a boy, an aged looking boy.
And from my heart he looks much like our Ajax.

Ramech.
It can't be so, what, Ajax, Ajax
The lost boy—long before old
Abe did set us free! Eli you dream.

(A long silence)
Eli.
That's him, he's coming to die with us.

Ajax comes up.
Ramech.
Ajax my boy! Whence comest thou?
Where have you been? Hast thou forgotten me?

(Falls in his arms)
Ajax.
No mother, dear; how could that be?
Thank God we've met but near our family grave,
Father, ere this, is ripe in age. He was
In his sixtieth year when Grant fought so.

Eli.
Ajax, what have you son, we perish.

Ajax.
Nothing have I: big piles I had but
In this land of lynching what ever we have
We have not. The lynchers envied my
Success and it was left with me
To lose my life or my earthly wealth.
I took the one you see me with here.

Eli.
I'm old, I'm cold, I'm hungry, I'm dying,
I yield to all.

Ramech.
Grieve not, we shall not die of
Hunger. Before another night the lynchers
Will be here. They want our blood
Because it is innocent blood. Lets not repine.

Jobel.
Mother I'm sick, this ground is wet to me.

Ramech.
To see thee suffer in the bloom of life,
Thou whom I watched and cheered to
See thee perish thus—O God—.

Jobel.
Mama I'm cold—has the bread come?

Ramech.
O for the days when as a slave I worked.
Thy life would then be spared. But Lincoln
Freed us. Why are we not free now?
Is Lincoln yet alive, and Grant? O God
Blot these remarks from my memory.

She weeps.
Ajax.
Mother, fret not o'er thoughts like these
Let us pray God and wait our doom.

Ramech.
My Lord. My infant child and I once
Thought that you were dead. But tell me
How did you live, we waited long for
Thee to come but all in vain.

Ajax.
We parted—sold as mules. You
With my father's owner, he in another drove.
And I in a disgraceful to some one else.
I kept up with you all, until
The mighty struggle came that freed
Us all and effaced your whereabouts.
I started out in search of you and
Prosperity. I lived quite well but
Seeking higher still, the white man
Envied me, and hence my life was his
When he saw fit, and eighteen years,
I've wandered up and down this world
In search of one dear spot where I could
Rest in peace. It must be
Here to die with you. At first
I feared to land.
O God, this lynching world is full of sin.

Ramech.
Despite our griefs, I will believe, dear boy,
That Providence hath brought thee here to me.
That we might die together.

Ajax.
Mother what awful sights I've seen—
I oft have wished that I had died when young,
Before this dreadful calamity. My blood
Don't move, my mind deranged turns, at what
I've seen this day. The careases of
Men with that of oxen, sheep and hogs—
Did float together down the stream.
I saw two brothers take a stand for right
And there they stood, until the lynchers
Came—and made the one take the life
Of the other—murder his mother's son,
The one who did this work to save his life
Lay down exhausted. Then the lynchers took
His life by slow process and left him there.
The famished buzzards came to his rescue
And tore the quivering flesh. In vain the man
Fought this new foe till breath was gone.

Eli.
Didst thou see this?

Ajax.
That is not half.

Ramech.
Then name it not. I've heard enough.
I'm sick at heart.

Ajax.
I saw—my God I cannot tell.

Eli.
Tell on. The woes of others told to us
May steel us to our own.

Ajax.
I saw a barge of logs loaded down,
With human beings, manacled, emaciated,
Ghastly. They sang and howled out prayers,
And curses and laughter. It was horrid.
With hands outstretched, they beckoned me
To come, but I stood off and watched
And heads of men were thrown at me in rage.
I further noticed a partly eaten body
Mangled and bruised. I shrieked aloud.
And then I saw a sight that captured all.
A mother, deathly clad, who in her arms,
Upheld a child. She cast her eyes on high,
And then she cast her infant from her.
It sank beneath the waves and was gone.
A mother drowned her own dear child.

Ramech.
My God this lynching world.

Ajax.
Hush? I hear the howl of dogs.

Eli.
My son, 'tis but the winds. No human
Being in this wild place save us. And the
“Star Spangled Banner” as that say goes
Doesn't wave here. Me think that song's a myth.

Ajax.
Again I hear the dogs. I'm not deceived.
Mother I dreamed last night I saw
A mountain moving on the waves,
And it had all the semblance of a house,
And my bewildered mind beheld unreal things.
By one of the windows I saw a
Gray haired man stand mute as death
And by his side I saw one young in years
His eyes toward heaven turned: and then again
He hid his face hehind his hands
As if in sorrow.—And behold the old man
Turned his back to him.

Eli.
That means but this—that God in heaven
Has turned against us, and our doom is sealed.
And I will wait my hour in silence.
Fain would I curse, fain would I kill myself,
Would I could die! Already have I lived
Too long—Hunger—Fear, my daily fiends!
Twelve days I've fought you bravely to be
Subdued at last by thee.

Jobel.
How cold it is.

Eli.
Is that a human carcass floating on the water? Look Ajax, look!

Ajax.
The body of a lynched man. Could I
But reach it, and eat once more before
I die.

Eli.
Go get it Ajax. Thou art a swimmer.

(Ajax reaches the water and a band of lynchers rush from the bushes and grab him.)
Ajax.
Oh father help me! The devil has me.
The carcass had its spies. Help! Murder!

Eli.
(Rushes to his son's rescue, with his silvery locks dangling in his face. He rushes in their midst and grasps his boy. The lynchers spear his aged body as if it was a beast.)
Help, for I am stabbed. My God these
Bloody lynchers—But wherefore call
For help when none can aid. Ramech farewell!
Jobel, my child farewell!

(The father and son are lynched.)
Ramech.
O Eli! Ajax! My God of heaven.

(She weeps aloud.)
Jobel.
Mamma, why do you weep? Where is my
Papa? Has he gone to get me some water?

Ramech.
My precious child. My husband and my son
Are gone and the lynchers will surely be
After you. I hear them shriek for blood.
But I am nerved to die.

Jobel.
Why don't my papa come? I dreamed
He brought me some bread and you
Dear mamma and I were in a house.

Ramech.
Sleep again my child, and in thy dreams
Forget the ills of earth and reign on high.
Oh God, please Thou forgive my sins,
And let me die; but Father spare my child!
He hath not sinned. Hush! the lynchers come.
They took my husband and my son.
Ain't that enough? Why trouble me?
I hear the howl of dogs.

Jobel.
My papa won't come. O mamma—

Ramech.
My soul the lynchers are upon me!
O precious God! To Thee I yield my soul,
Do take my helpless child. (The Lynchers rush upon her.)

My child! My own dear child!

Jobel.
Mamma it is so cold. Have you
No bread for me? Where is my mamma?
Mamma—Mamma—Mamma.

But during this mighty struggle with Ajax and his foes,
He and one man fighting for life had drifted from the shore.
And Ajax fought a brave man's fight against a watery grave,
Exhausted down he seized some planks adrift upon the waves.
He stepped upon his rescu'd ship with clothes all dripping wet,
And blood from every garment fell, his eyes the white man's met.
Death had pressed him closely and precious was each second—
Two hands from out the water reached, his eyes toward Ajax beckoned.
There was the bloodless pallor of a wretched drowning man
With mouth all gaping, eyes bloodshot and hair on end did stand.
The struggling white man exhausted from trying to kill Ajax
Was fighting with water, now his strength was all relaxed.
He cried “I perish my dear sir, give me a helping hand.”
And Ajax's heart was melted down he drew him to a stand.
And Ajax said, “You've treated me as though I were a pup,
I give you good for evil—I in God's name bring you up.”
And Ajax heard his mother shriek—afar upon the shore,
And tears gushed down his bleeding cheeks, “my God can it be so?”
The planks were drifting further and further down the river,
And Ajax turned to his shipmate and these words did deliver:
“The shrieking voice you hear comes from my mother's bleeding heart—
It is a shrill and helpless voice, it makes my senses start.
My mother murdered, butchered and my aged father slain,
Their infant child is murdered to, ought I silent remain?
Can it be true that I have saved your wretched, wicked life,
While others of your gang have killed my father and his wife?
You heathen of the white-skin'd tribe, you sit down there and wonder
I've robb'd grim death by saving you, your watery grave I've plundered.
I've prayed to God for vengeance through all these dreary years
I've gathered patience from my friends relating all their fears.
My assailants have been many and my defenders few,
But now we stand as man to man, sir, should I murder you?
Grim death keeps secrets better than the mass of living men,
The river waves will gladly take you to the fishy den.
Then I could dive down in the waves and be, myself, at rest.
And your dear lynchers seeking me would vainly beat their breast,
And though they are good hunters of the blood of Negro's vein,
There they would follow—long and far to ne'er find my domain.
Consider, as I do, sir, what the river's waves would be
In contrast of the life, my peer, which now I give to thee.
And I am now adrift, afloat in the marts of the world,
And if the lynchers can catch me my soul to wind'll be hurled.
If all the demons of your race could gather 'round us now,
Sir, all my pleading would not keep cold death from my hot brow.
But man was made for life's battle, and sometimes life is fate,
To every man that breathes a breath death cometh soon or late.
And how could you die better, sir, than by a hand like mine,
For all my race's punishment by all your race's crimes?
And could I die a nobler death than facing fearful odds
For vengeance of my father and my mother 'neath the sod;
And for those tender mothers with their babies at their breast
Whose husbands died the death of dogs at your race's behest?
O! no, my mother's noble form lies not beneath the sod,
Its now a prey for buzzards' feast, you wicked wretch! My God!
I have been at your mercy, sir, you tried to take my life.
I have no hope of your favor, for you I have no rife.
I could kill you and cast your form beneath the rolling waves
But I am human, so are you, I'm not to kill but save.”
The white man set there calm as death he utter'd not a word,
It seemed his frame was void of breath his soul was all bestirred.
He never gave an earnest look he did not even wink,
And Ajax said, “These circumstances do make my conscience think.
O white man! have you any heart and did you ever sigh,
And did your senses ever start to see a Negro die?
Consider now the torture and the cruelty on my race,
Look at my mother's cruel death, her infant child effac'd.
Come go with me to Texas and see those red hot irons—
That burn'd the eyes and mouths of men and made them roar like lions.
And how the lynch'd men bellow'd like a cow in deep distress,
And how the lynchers laugh'd and took it in with minds at rest.
Oh! how the men did struggle to loose the lynchers' chain.
Oh! how they howl'd like mad men, their efforts were in vain.
The guards had gone upstairs to rest, women and children came
To view the scene with idle jest, and they were not ashamed.
The angels 'round the throne of God had turn'd their backs to earth,
With hearts melted away in tears at sight of Texas mirth.
This land of brutal cowards still lack the moral backbone,
The moral courage, moral strength to drive a villian home.—
To even lift a finger or to raise a warning cry,
They stand in silent pleasure and gaze on the Negro die.
And in the shadow of the church human beings are burned,
From Sunday-schools the children rush this wickedness to learn.
They gather 'round to take a smell of burning human flesh,
They cheer the scene and make the spot a place of sacred mesh.
For him to plead, when all the hearts his keenest prayer could probe,—
Are but a breath of ether in the space around the globe.
It's no more than a ripple to the roaring waterfall,
It's a snow-flake in the valley to the cloud that covers all.
There's no protest, there's no rebuke, there's not a single cry—
Fished from the pools of blood and wrong to touch the nation's eye.
The world now sits in judgement and could the nations plead
This land would be a criminal of the vilest kind of deeds.
Could Ida Wells have raised a force to follow her crusade
This dreadful crime, long ere this time in darkness would be laid.
If Frances Willard and her host would help to raise the cry,
Intemperate lynchings ghastly ghost would fade away and die.
For when a woman makes a vow that she will do a thing
She's sure to win, or else she'll make opponents conscience ring.
Few men of crime can stand to break a woman's heart, perchance,
Some nations chang'd their ship of state upon a woman's glance.
Fair Helen seal'd the fate of Troy and queens of ancient times
Have led brave hearts in cause of truth and made the wrong decline.
Some noble, stalwart woman have in every time and place,
Wielded her influence, good or bad, upon the human race.
If all the noble women who have a Christian heart,
While sitting by the fireside would take an active part,
And have a gen'ral family talk about the ship of state,
And speak of what the states should do to have a union great—
And speak of how almighty God was looking from the sky—
Down on the doings of each one. He heard the lynch'd man's sigh,
More husbands and more sons will go away from sacred homes—
With purer thoughts and higher aims and of a Christian tone—
'Till ships of church and ships of state will all be fill'd with men
With Christian hearts, with humane minds, with works oppos'd to sin.
Then there'd be more McKinley hearts as governors of states,
To see that men obeyed the laws which they themselves would make
Then ev'ry gov'nor would be fit to make a president
The white house then would ever have a man with good intent.
Then lynching crimes would melt away as ice in summer's heat,
Then we could praise this ship of state, this union strong and great.
For many years my race has been a universal target,
They never try to find the part that's crimson, bright and scarlet,
In all of the affairs of life enormous fads have spent
All of their forces upon him to bring our discontent.
All those unhappy phrases they should try to set aright,
Are dwelt upon with mighty force to make as dark as night,
A just investigation, to show the brighter side,
Is never made by those who strive forever to deride.
The Negro's moral standard, sir, has never been as low
As those destructive lyncher's hearts who never try to know
Whether it was a crime or not they're simply satisfied
To pass their own meek judgment, they crave the Negro's hide.
There's no class in America whose moral pathway's fill'd
With thorns as is the Negro's and he must tread at will.
American Christianity's not recognized by Him
Who came to earth to die for man and give him Christian trim.
Her body's broken by disease her conscience seared with crimes.
A mind and soul of cruelty to cap the heathen climes.
And in the light of all these things it is a poor spirit
To point with Christian horror but ne'er try to prohibit.
Ah! what a reckless nation, what an undisciplin'd child
Noble, but sometimes tricky, doing somethings that are wild.
A freeman am I, must I die a slave adrift at sea,
Or must I live as master's dog to whimper at his plea.
And must I crawl down at his feet, and must I lick his hands?
Poor Ajax' cheeks did flush with heat he ground his teeth like sand.
By Jove, by thunder, by the gods, I'd rather herd with wolves,
And seek the lion's friendship and to tigers make my love,
Then I could marshal all their strength against the cursed mob,
And teach them how it felt to give a beast a wailing sob.
To all my sorrows I would add those of my punished race,
And devote myself to vengeance upon this black disgrace.
And I would pray to all the gods, the gods both good and bad
To lend me their special terrors to ridicule this fad.
I'd ask for tempest, heat and cold, for drought, for wild beast's lair,
And all the poison of the land that men let loose in air—
And all the thousand other things that quickly put to sleep—
Of which men die on sea and land, my God! why should I weep?
My feelings are not vagary as a sensitive lad
But reas'ning of suffering manhood to give endurance sad.
Every age has its sorrows and O, the ills of time,
No parallel in human life to match this lynching clime,
My spirit never goes to sleep I cannot rest at night,
A dog remembers, long, a wrong, he knows a friend at sight.
I have a book of great events, I'll write this voyage down
That men may know what I have seen and try its depths to sound.
My mother, father all are gone and I in this wild wood,
My wife and child sev'r'd from me, all gone but my manhood.
I never hope to find them now amid my anxious fears
As “Ben Hur” found his jewels after eight long grieving years.
He found his precious mother and his sister with disease
From out a wicked dungeon he brought them to release.
But dungeons where the lynchers place the prison'd corpse of man
The buzzard sailing in the air has all at his command.
O white man! Can't I probe from you a single, tender sob?
And won't you help me pray one prayer to your Almighty God?
“O God! give me a little faith and into my darkness—
That's deeper darkening every day, O send a light of rest.
All hopes deal with the future Lord, I hope for better days,
And while I'm drifting down the tide, guide me the right of way.”
Laurels of this world may be sweet but they soon pass away.
We have no laurels as a race, are they in coming days?
Like those colossal tombs of old on drifting desert sands
They cast shadows 'cross the cent'ries then crumble to the land.
This country in a prosperous stage will yet come to a halt,
And see the depths of this outrage and remedy the fault.
When time lies down fore'er to sleep at eternity's feet,
And vanities, pomps, more creep upon the stage so sweet—
And stars of heaven have all gone out of their ethereal home
The eternal hand, unseen by us across this land will roam.”
The evening shade was gathering now, the surging waters roll'd,
And Ajax felt the cool night wind, it seemed to fan his soul.
Unruly winds began to cease and zephyr's breezes rose
The lotus plant from water's depths before his gaze reposed.
The solemn river loiter'd on its way quite unconcerned.
The palm trees shook their nodding heads and stoop'd to greet the fern.
The Jackall slipping on the bank knew Ajax' skin was black
He snapp'd his teeth he thought t'was law his fleshless bones to crack:
The guiding stars began to show, the day went into night
And like a phantom ship at sea they drifted out of sight.
The planks, call'd ship on which they rode, went calmly down the river—
And no one knows unto this day which was the longest liver.
Did Ajax kill the white man? O no, his heart was tender!
Did white man kill poor Ajax? his heart was rash a timber!
Did both of them drift to the gulf and make a feast for whales;
Did both of them escape and shall we yet hear both their tales?
If poor Ajax is yet alive and dwells upon the land,
He'll write a book to shake this world and make men understand.