Red Rock: A Chronicle of Reconstruction

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  RED ROCK

  A CHRONICLE OF RECONSTRUCTION

  SHE GAVE HIM A ROLLING-PIN AND HE SET TO WORK.]

  RED ROCK

  _A CHRONICLE OF RECONSTRUCTION_

  BY

  THOMAS NELSON PAGE

  _ILLUSTRATED BY B. WEST CLINEDINST_

  NEW YORK

  CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

  1899

  COPYRIGHT, 1898, BY

  CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

  TROW DIRECTORY PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY NEW YORK

  To

  F. L. P.

  _AN OLD-FASHIONED LADY_

  _PREFACE_

  _The Region where the Grays and Carys lived lies too far from thecentres of modern progress to be laid down on any map that will beaccessible. And, as “he who maps an undiscovered country may place whatboundaries he will,” it need only be said, that it lies in the South,somewhere in that vague region partly in one of the old Southern Statesand partly in the yet vaguer land of Memory. It will be spoken of inthis story, as Dr. Cary, General Legaie, and the other people who usedto live there in old times, spoke of it, in warm affection, as, “theold County,” or, “the Red Rock section,” or just, “My country, sir.”_

  _It was a goodly land in those old times—a rolling country, lying atthe foot of the blue mountain-spurs, with forests and fields; richmeadows filled with fat cattle; watered by streams, sparkling andbubbling over rocks, or winding under willows and sycamores, to wherethe hills melted away in the low, alluvial lands, where the sea oncewashed and still left its memory and its name._

  _The people of that section were the product of a system of which itis the fashion nowadays to have only words of condemnation. Everyass that passes by kicks at the dead lion. It was an Oligarchy, theysay, which ruled and lorded it over all but those favored ones whobelonged to it. But has one ever known the members of a Democracy torule so justly? If they shone in prosperity, much more they shone inadversity; if they bore themselves haughtily in their day of triumph,they have borne defeat with splendid fortitude. Their old family seats,with everything else in the world, were lost to them—their dignitybecame grandeur. Their entire system crumbled and fell about them inruins—they remained unmoved. They were subjected to the greatesthumiliation of modern times: their slaves were put over them—theyreconquered their section and preserved the civilization of theAnglo-Saxon._

  _No doubt the phrase “Before the war” is at times somewhat abused. Itis just possible that there is a certain Caleb Osbaldistonism in thespeech at times. But for those who knew the old County as it was then,and can contrast it with what it has become since, no wonder it seemsthat even the moonlight was richer and mellower “before the war” thanit is now. For one thing, the moonlight as well as the sunlight shinesbrighter in our youth than in maturer age; and gold and gossamer amidthe rose-bowers reflect it better than serge and crêpe amid myrtlesand bays. The great thing is not to despond even though the brilliancybe dimmed: in the new glitter one need not necessarily forget the oldradiance. Happily, when one of the wise men insists that it shallbe forgotten, and that we shall be wise also, like him, it worksautomatically, and we know that he is one of those who, as has beensaid, avoiding the land of romance, “have missed the title of fool atthe cost of a celestial crown.”_

  _Why should not Miss Thomasia in her faded dress, whom you shallmeet, tell us, if she pleases, of her “dear father,” and of all her“dear cousins” to the remotest generation; and Dr. Cary and GeneralLegaie quote their grandfathers as oracles, alongside the sages ofPlutarch, and say “Sir” and “Madam” at the end of their sentences?Antiquated, you say? Provincial? Do you, young lady, observe MissThomasia the next time she enters a room, or addresses a servant;and do you, good sir, polished by travel and contact with the mostfashionable—second-class—society of two continents, watch GeneralLegaie and Dr. Cary when they meet Miss Thomasia, or greet theapple-woman on the corner, or the wagoner on the road. What an airsuddenly comes in with them of old Courts and polished halls whenall gentlemen bowed low before all ladies, and wore swords to defendtheir honor. What an odor, as it were, of those gardens which Watteaupainted, floats in as they enter! Do not you attempt it. You cannot doit. You are thinking of yourself, they of others and the devoirs theyowe them. You are republican and brought up to consider yourself “asgood as any, and better than most.” Sound doctrine for the citizen, nodoubt; but it spoils the bow. Even you, Miss or Madam, for all yoursilks and satins, cannot do it like Miss Thomasia. You are imitatingthe duchess you saw once, perhaps, in Hyde Park. The duchess would haveimitated Miss Thomasia. You are at best an imitation; Miss Thomasia isthe reality. Do not laugh at her, or call her provincial. She belongsto the realm where sincerity dwells and the heart still rules—therealm of old-time courtesy and high breeding, and you are the realprovincial. It is a wide realm, though; and some day, if Heaven be goodto you, you may reach it. But it must be by the highway of Sincerityand Truth. No other road leads there._