CHAPTER I
REGARDING THE INTERMARRIAGE OF RACES
It was winter, and the white snow lay everywhere; icicles hung from theeaves. All work on the farms was completed. People were journeying to atown half way between Bonesteel and Gregory to take the train for theirformer homes; others to spend it with their relatives, and Jean Baptistewas taking it for Chicago and New York where he went as a rule at theend of each year.
He was going with an air of satisfaction apparently; for, in truth, hehad everything to make him feel so--that is, _almost_ everything. He hadsucceeded in the West. The country had experienced a most profitableseason, and the crop he reaped and sold had made him in round numbersthe sum of seven thousand five hundred dollars. He had paid for the twohundred acres of land he had bargained for; he had seeded more land inthe autumn just passed to winter wheat which had gone into the winter inthe best of shape; his health was the best. For what more could he havewished?
And yet no man was more worried than he when he stepped from the stageonto the platform of the station where he was to entrain for theEast.... It is barely possible that any man could have been more sad....To explain this we are compelled to go back a few months; back to theharvest time; to his homestead and where he sat with some one near, verynear, and what followed.
"I couldn't help it--I loved you; love you--have loved you always!" hepassionately told her.
For answer she had yielded again her lips, and all the love of her warmyoung heart went out to him.
"I don't understand you always, dear," he whispered. "Sometimes there issomething about you that puzzles me. I think it's in your eyes; but I_do_ understand that whatever it is it is something good--it couldn't beotherwise, could it?"
"No, Jean," she faltered.
"And did you wonder at my calling your name that night?"
"I have never understood that fully until now," she replied.
"You came in a vision, and it must have been divine, two years ago gonenow," she heard him; "and ever since your face, dear, has been beforeme. I have loved it, and, of course, I knew that I would surely love youwhen you came."
"Isn't it strange," she whispered.
"But beautiful."
"So beautiful."
"Was it providence, or was it God that brought you that night and savedme from the slow death that was coming over me, Agnes?"
"Please, Jean, don't! Don't speak again of that awful night! Surely itmust have been some divine providence that brought me to this place; butI can never recall it without a tremor. To think that you would havedied out there! Please, never tell me of it again, dear." She trembledand nestled closer to him, while her little heart beat a tattoo againsther ribs. They looked up then, as across the field her halfwittedbrothers were approaching. It was only then that they seemed to realizewhat had transpired and upon realization they silently disembraced. Whathad passed was the most natural thing in the world, true; and to them ithad come because it was in them to assert themselves, but now before himrose the Custom of the Country, and its law. So vital is this Custom; somuch is it a part of the body politic that certain states have went onrecord against it. Not because any bad, or good, any wealth or povertywas involved. It had been because of sentiment, the sentiment of thestronger faction....
So it ruled.
In the lives of the two in our story, no thought but to live accordingto God's law, and the law of the land, had ever entered their minds, butnow they had while laboring under the stress of the pent-up excitementand emotion overruled and forgot the law two races are wont to observeand had given vent and words to the feeling which was in them.... Theystood conventionally apart now, each absorbed in the calm realization oftheir positions in our great American society. They were obviouslydisturbed; but that which had drawn them to the position they hadoccupied and declared, still remained, and that was love.
So time had gone on as time will; never stopping for anything, neverhesitating, never delaying. So the day went, and the week and the month,and the month after that and the month after that, until in time theholidays were near, and Jean Baptiste was going away, away to forgetthat which was more to him than all the world--the love of AgnesStewart.
He had considered it--he had considered it before he caught the one heloved into his arms and said the truth that was in him.... But there wasanother side to it that will have much space in our story.
Down the line a few stations from where he now was, there lived anexample. A man had come years ago into the country, there, a strong,powerfully built man. He was healthy, he was courageous and he was dark,because forsooth, the man was a Negro. And so it had been with time thisman's heart went out to one near by, a white. Because of his race it waswith him as with Jean Baptiste. Near him there had been none of hiskind. So unto himself he had taken a white wife. He had loved her andshe had loved him; and because it was so, she had given to him children.And when the children had come she died. And after she had died and someyears had passed, he took unto himself another wife of the same blood,and to that union there had come other children.
So when years had passed, and these selfsame children had reached theirmajority, they too, took unto themselves wives, and the wives were ofthe Caucasian blood. But when this dark man had settled in the landbelow, which, at that time, had been a new country, he decided to claimhimself as otherwise than he was. He said and said again, that he was ofMexican descent, mongrel, forsooth; but there was no _Custom Of TheCountry_ with regard to the Mexican, mongrel though he be. But thepeople and the neighbors all knew that he lied and that he wasEthiopian, the which looked out through his eyes. But even to merelyclaim being something else was a sort of compromise.
So his family had grown to men and women, and they in turn brought morechildren into the world. And all claimed allegiance to a race other thanthe one to which they belonged.
Once lived a man who was acknowledged as great and much that goes withgreatness was given unto him by the public. A Negro he was, but as aclimax in his great life, he had married a wife of that race that issuperior in life, wealth and achievements to his own, the Caucasian. Soit had gone.
The first named, Jean Baptiste never felt he could be quite like. Evenif he should disregard _The Custom Of The Country, and its law_, andmarry Agnes, he did not feel he would ever attempt that. But to marryout of the race to which he belonged, especially into the race in whichshe belonged, would be the most unpopular thing he could do. He had sethimself in this new land to succeed; he had worked and slaved to thatend. He liked his people; he wanted to help them. Examples they needed,and such he was glad he had become; but if he married now the one heloved, the example was lost; he would be condemned, he would be despisedby the race that was his. Moreover, last but not least, he wouldperhaps, by such a union bring into her life much unhappiness, and heloved her too well for that.
Jean Baptiste had decided. He loved Agnes, and had every reason to; buthe forswore. He would change it. He would go back from where he hadcome. He would be a man as befitted him to be. He would find a girl; hewould marry in his race. They had education; they were refined--well, hewould marry one of them anyhow!
So Jean Baptiste was going. He would forget Agnes. He would court one inhis own race. So to Chicago he now sped.
He had lived in the windy city before going West, and was very familiarwith that section of the city on the south side that is the center ofthe Negro life of that great metropolis. Accordingly, he approached astation in the loop district, entered one of the yellow cars and took aseat. He looked below at the hurly-burly of life and action, and thenhis eyes took survey of the car. It was empty, all save himself andanother, and that other was a girl, a girl of his race! The first he hadseen since last he was in the city. How little did she know as she satacross the aisle from him, that she was the first of his race his eyeshad looked upon for the past twelve months. He regarded her curiously.She was of that cross bred type that are so numerous, full bloodsseemingly to have become rare about those parts. Sh
e was of a lightbrown complexion, almost a mulatto. She seemed about twenty-two years ofage. Of the curious eyes upon her she seemed entirely unaware, finallyleaving the train at a station that he was familiar with anddisappeared.
At Thirty-first Street he left the train, fell in with the scatteredcrowd below and the dash of the city life was his again in a twinkling.He found his way to State Street, the great thoroughfare of his people.The novelty in viewing those of his clan now had left him, for they wereall about. Even had he been blind he could have known he was among them,for was not there the usual noise; the old laugh, and all that went withit?
He hurried across and passed down Thirty-first to Dearborn Street,Darktown proper; but even when he had reached Federal, then calledArmour, he had seen nothing but his race. He had friends--at leastacquaintances, so to where they lived he walked briskly.
"And if it isn't Jean Baptiste, so 'elp me Jesus," cried the woman, asshe opened the door in response to his knock, and without furtherceremony encircled his neck with her arms, and kissed his lips once andtwice. "You old dear!" she exclaimed with him inside, holding him atarms' length and regarding him fondly. "How are you, anyhow?"
"Oh, fine," he replied, regarding her pleasantly.
"You are certainly looking good," she said, looking up into his facewith fun in her eyes. "Sit down, sit down and make yourself at home,"she invited, drawing up a chair.
"Well, how's Chicago?" he inquired irrelevantly.
"Same old burg," she replied, drawing a chair up close.
"And how's hubby?"
"Fine!"
"And the rest of the family?"
"The same. Pearl, too."
"Oh, Pearl.... How is Pearl?"
"Still single...."
"Thought she was engaged to be married when I was here last year?"
"Oh, that fellow was no good!"
"What was the matter?"
"What's the matter with lots of these nigga' men 'round Chicago? Theycan't keep a wife a posing on State Street."
"Humph!"
"It's the truth!"
"And how about the women? They seem to be fond of passing along to beposed at...."
"Oh, you're mean," she pouted. Then: "Are you married yet?"
"Oh, lordy! How could I get married? Not thirty minutes ago I saw thefirst colored girl I have seen in a year!"
"Oh, you're a liar!"
"It's the truth!"
"Is it so, Jean? Have you really not seen a colored girl in a wholeyear?"
"I have never lied to you, have I?"
"Well, no. Of course you haven't; but I don't know what I would do undersuch circumstances. Not seeing nigga's for a year."
"But I've seen enough already to make up."
She laughed. "Lordy, me. Did you ever see so many 'shines' as there areon State Street!" She paused and her face became a little serious for amoment. "By the way, Jean, why don't you marry my sister?"
"You're shameful! Your sister wouldn't have me. I'm a farmer."
"Oh, yes she would. Pearl's getting tired of getting engaged to theseNegroes around Chicago. She likes you, anyhow."
"Tut, tut," he laughed depreciatingly. "Pearl would run me ragged outthere on that farm!" She laughed too.
"No, she wouldn't, really. Pearl is good looking and is tired ofworking."
"She's good looking, all right, and perhaps tired of working; but shewouldn't do out there on the farm."
"Oh, you won't do. I'll bet you are married already."
"Oh, Mrs. White!"
"But you're engaged?"
"Nope!"
"Jean. I'll bet you'll marry a white girl out there and have nothingmore to do with nigga's."
"Now you're worse."
"And when you marry a white woman, I want to be the first one to shootyou--in the leg."
He laughed long and uproariously.
"You can laf all you want; but you ain't goin' through life lovin'nobody. You gotta girl somewhere; but do what you please so long as itdon't come to that."
"Come to what?"
"Marrying a white woman."
"Wouldn't that be all right?"
She looked up at him with a glare. He smiled amusedly. "Don't you lafhere on a subject like that! Lord! I think lots of you, but if I shouldhear that you had married a white woman, man, I'd steal money enough tocome there and kill you dead!"
"Why would you want to do that?"
"_Why would I want to do that?_ Humph! What you want to ask me such aquestion for? The idea!"
"But you haven't answered my question?"
She glared at him again, all the humor gone out of her face. Presently,biting at the thread in some sewing she was doing, she said: "In thefirst place, white people and Negroes have no business marrying eachother. In the second place, a nigga' only gets a po' white woman. And inthe third place, white people and nigga's don't mix well when it comesto society. Now, supposin' you married a white woman and brought herhere to Chicago, who would you associate with? We nigga's 's sho goin'to pass 'er up. And the white folks--you better not look their way!"
He was silent.
"Ain't I done outlined it right?"
"You've revealed some very delicate points with regard to the matter,"he acknowledged.
"Of course I have, and you can't get away from it. But that ain't all.Now, to be frank with yu'. I wouldn't ceh so much about some triflin' no'count nigga' marrying some old white woman; but that ain't the kind nowhite woman wants when she stoops so low as to marry a nigga'. Uh, naw!Naw indeedy! She don't fool with nothin' like that! She leaves that kindfor some poor colored woman to break her heart and get her head brokenover. She marries somebody like you with plenty of money and sense withit, see!"
He laughed amusedly.
"No laffin' in it. You know I'm tellin' the truth. So take warning!Don't marry no white woman up there and come trottin' down hereexpectin' me to give you blessin'. Because if you do, and just as sureas my name is Ida White, I'm going to do something to you!"
"But a white woman might help a fellow to get up in the world," heargued.
"Yes, I'll admit that, too. But ouh burden is ouh burden, and we've gotto bear it. And, besides, you c'n get a girl that'll help you when youreally want a wife. That ain't no argument. Of course I'd like to seePearl married. But you ain't going to fool with her, and I know it.Pearl thinks she would like it better if she could marry somebody fromout of Chicago; but they'd all be the same after a month or so withher."
"Well," said he, "I'd better get over to the Keystone. You've interestedme today. I've learned something regarding the amalgamation ofraces...."
"I hope you have, if you had it in your mind. Anything else might beforgiven, but marrying a white woman--never!"
They parted then. She to her sewing, and Jean Baptiste to histhoughts....