The Marrow of Tradition Page 13

  XIII

  THE CAKEWALK

  Old Mr. Delamere's servant, Sandy Campbell, was in deep trouble.

  A party of Northern visitors had been staying for several days at theSt. James Hotel. The gentlemen of the party were concerned in aprojected cotton mill, while the ladies were much interested in thestudy of social conditions, and especially in the negro problem. As soonas their desire for information became known, they were takencourteously under the wing of prominent citizens and their wives, whogave them, at elaborate luncheons, the Southern white man's views of thenegro, sighing sentimentally over the disappearance of the good oldnegro of before the war, and gravely deploring the degeneracy of hisdescendants. They enlarged upon the amount of money the Southern whiteshad spent for the education of the negro, and shook their heads over theinadequate results accruing from this unexampled generosity. It was sad,they said, to witness this spectacle of a dying race, unable towithstand the competition of a superior type. The severe reprisals takenby white people for certain crimes committed by negroes were of coursenot the acts of the best people, who deplored them; but still a certaincharity should be extended towards those who in the intense andrighteous anger of the moment should take the law into their own handsand deal out rough but still substantial justice; for no negro was everlynched without incontestable proof of his guilt. In order to beperfectly fair, and give their visitors an opportunity to see both sidesof the question, they accompanied the Northern visitors to a coloredchurch where they might hear a colored preacher, who had won a jocularpopularity throughout the whole country by an oft-repeated sermonintended to demonstrate that the earth was flat like a pancake. Thiscelebrated divine could always draw a white audience, except on the dayswhen his no less distinguished white rival in the field ofsensationalism preached his equally famous sermon to prove that hell wasexactly one half mile, linear measure, from the city limits ofWellington. Whether accidentally or not, the Northern visitors had noopportunity to meet or talk alone with any colored person in the cityexcept the servants at the hotel. When one of the party suggested avisit to the colored mission school, a Southern friend kindlyvolunteered to accompany them.

  The visitors were naturally much impressed by what they learned fromtheir courteous hosts, and felt inclined to sympathize with the Southernpeople, for the negro is not counted as a Southerner, except to fix thebasis of congressional representation. There might of course be thingsto criticise here and there, certain customs for which they did notexactly see the necessity, and which seemed in conflict with the highestideals of liberty but surely these courteous, soft-spoken ladies andgentlemen, entirely familiar with local conditions, who descanted soearnestly and at times pathetically upon the grave problems confrontingthem, must know more about it than people in the distant North, withouttheir means of information. The negroes who waited on them at the hotelseemed happy enough, and the teachers whom they had met at the missionschool had been well-dressed, well-mannered, and apparently content withtheir position in life. Surely a people who made no complaints could notbe very much oppressed.

  In order to give the visitors, ere they left Wellington, a pleasingimpression of Southern customs, and particularly of the joyous,happy-go-lucky disposition of the Southern darky and his entirecontentment with existing conditions, it was decided by the hotelmanagement to treat them, on the last night of their visit, to a littlediversion, in the shape of a genuine negro cakewalk.

  On the afternoon of this same day Tom Delamere strolled into the hotel,and soon gravitated to the bar, where he was a frequent visitor. Youngmen of leisure spent much of their time around the hotel, and no smallpart of it in the bar. Delamere had been to the club, but had avoidedthe card-room. Time hanging heavy on his hands, he had sought the hotelin the hope that some form of distraction might present itself.

  "Have you heard the latest, Mr. Delamere?" asked the bartender, as hemixed a cocktail for his customer.

  "No, Billy; what is it?"

  "There's to be a big cakewalk upstairs to-night. The No'the'n gentlemenan' ladies who are down here to see about the new cotton fact'ry want tostudy the nigger some more, and the boss has got up a cakewalk for 'em,'mongst the waiters and chambermaids, with a little outside talent."

  "Is it to be public?" asked Delamere.

  "Oh, no, not generally, but friends of the house won't be barred out.The clerk 'll fix it for you. Ransom, the head waiter, will be floormanager."

  Delamere was struck with a brilliant idea. The more he considered it,the brighter it seemed. Another cocktail imparted additional brilliancyto the conception. He had been trying, after a feeble fashion, to keephis promise to Clara, and was really suffering from lack of excitement.

  He left the bar-room, found the head waiter, held with him a shortconversation, and left in his intelligent and itching palm a piece ofmoney.

  The cakewalk was a great success. The most brilliant performer was alate arrival, who made his appearance just as the performance was aboutto commence. The newcomer was dressed strikingly, the conspicuousfeatures of his attire being a long blue coat with brass buttons and apair of plaid trousers. He was older, too, than the other participants,which made his agility the more remarkable. His partner was a newchambermaid, who had just come to town, and whom the head waiterintroduced to the newcomer upon his arrival. The cake was awarded tothis couple by a unanimous vote. The man presented it to his partnerwith a grandiloquent flourish, and returned thanks in a speech whichsent the Northern visitors into spasms of delight at the quaintness ofthe darky dialect and the darky wit. To cap the climax, the winnerdanced a buck dance with a skill and agility that brought a shower ofcomplimentary silver, which he gathered up and passed to the headwaiter.

  Ellis was off duty for the evening. Not having ventured to put in anappearance at Carteret's since his last rebuff, he found himselfburdened with a superfluity of leisure, from which he essayed to findrelief by dropping into the hotel office at about nine o'clock. He wasinvited up to see the cakewalk, which he rather enjoyed, for there wassome graceful dancing and posturing. But the grotesque contortions ofone participant had struck him as somewhat overdone, even for thecomical type of negro. He recognized the fellow, after a few minutes'scrutiny, as the body-servant of old Mr. Delamere. The man's presentoccupation, or choice of diversion, seemed out of keeping with hisemployment as attendant upon an invalid old gentleman, and strangelyinconsistent with the gravity and decorum which had been so noticeablewhen this agile cakewalker had served as butler at Major Carteret'stable, upon the occasion of the christening dinner. There was a vaguesuggestion of unreality about this performance, too, which Ellis did notattempt to analyze, but which recurred vividly to his memory upon asubsequent occasion.

  Ellis had never pretended to that intimate knowledge of negro thoughtand character by which some of his acquaintances claimed the ability tofathom every motive of a negro's conduct, and predict in advance whatany one of the darker race would do under a given set of circumstances.He would not have believed that a white man could possess two so widelyvarying phases of character; but as to negroes, they were as yet a crudeand undeveloped race, and it was not safe to make predictions concerningthem. No one could tell at what moment the thin veneer of civilizationmight peel off and reveal the underlying savage.

  The champion cakewalker, much to the surprise of his sable companions,who were about equally swayed by admiration and jealousy, disappearedimmediately after the close of the performance. Any one watching him onhis way home through the quiet streets to old Mr. Delamere's would haveseen him now and then shaking with laughter. It had been excellent fun.Nevertheless, as he neared home, a certain aspect of the affair,hitherto unconsidered, occurred to him, and it was in a rather seriousframe of mind that he cautiously entered the house and sought his ownroom.

  * * * * *

  The cakewalk had results which to Sandy were very serious. The followingweek he was summoned before the disciplinary committee of his church andcharged with
unchristian conduct, in the following particulars, to wit:dancing, and participating in a sinful diversion called a cakewalk,which was calculated to bring the church into disrepute and make it themockery of sinners.

  Sandy protested his innocence vehemently, but in vain. The proof wasoverwhelming. He was positively identified by Sister 'Manda Patterson,the hotel cook, who had watched the whole performance from the hotelcorridor for the sole, single, solitary, and only purpose, she averred,of seeing how far human wickedness could be carried by a professingChristian. The whole thing had been shocking and offensive to her, andonly a stern sense of duty had sustained her in looking on, that shemight be qualified to bear witness against the offender. She hadrecognized his face, his clothes, his voice, his walk--there could be noshadow of doubt that it was Brother Sandy. This testimony was confirmedby one of the deacons, whose son, a waiter at the hotel, had also seenSandy at the cakewalk.

  Sandy stoutly insisted that he was at home the whole evening; that hehad not been near the hotel for three months; that he had never in hislife taken part in a cakewalk, and that he did not know how to dance.It was replied that wickedness, like everything else, must have abeginning; that dancing was an art that could be acquired in secret, andcame natural to some people. In the face of positive proof, Sandy'sprotestations were of no avail; he was found guilty, and suspended fromchurch fellowship until he should have repented and made fullconfession.

  Sturdily refusing to confess a fault of which he claimed to be innocent,Sandy remained in contumacy, thereby falling somewhat into disreputeamong the members of his church, the largest in the city. The effect ofa bad reputation being subjective as well as objective, and poor humannature arguing that one may as well have the game as the name, Sandyinsensibly glided into habits of which the church would not haveapproved, though he took care that they should not interfere with hisduties to Mr. Delamere. The consolation thus afforded, however, followedas it was by remorse of conscience, did not compensate him for the lossof standing in the church, which to him was a social club as well as areligious temple. At times, in conversation with young Delamere, hewould lament his hard fate.

  Tom laughed until he cried at the comical idea which Sandy's plaintalways brought up, of half-a-dozen negro preachers sitting in solemnjudgment upon that cakewalk,--it had certainly been a goodcakewalk!--and sending poor Sandy to spiritual Coventry.

  "Cheer up, Sandy, cheer up!" he would say when Sandy seemed mostdepressed. "Go into my room and get yourself a good drink of liquor. Thedevil's church has a bigger congregation than theirs, and we have theconsolation of knowing that when we die, we'll meet all our friends onthe other side. Brace up, Sandy, and be a man, or, if you can't be aman, be as near a man as you can!"

  Hoping to revive his drooping spirits, Sandy too often accepted theproffered remedy.