Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1905-11-17
Book 1.-THE Revolution.
CHAPTER I.
THE FIRST LADY OF THE LAND.

the most modest structure ever chosen
for such high uses.
It stood, a small, two-story brick
building, in an unpretentious street.
Seven windows opened on the front
with black solid-panelled shutters.
The front parlor was scantily furnish
ed. A huge mirror covered one wall,
and on the other hung life-size oil
portrait of Stoneman and between the
windows were a portrait Of Washing
ton Irving and picture of a nun.
Among his many charities he had al
ways given literally to an orphanage
conducted by Roman Catholic sister,
hood.
The back parlor, whose single win
dow looked out on a small garden, he
had fitted up as a library, with leath-
er-upholstered furniture, a large desk
and table, and scattered on the mantel
and about its walls were the photo
graphs of his personal friends and a
few costly prints. This room he used
as his executive Office, and no person
was allowed to enter 1t without first
stating his business or presenting a
petition to the tawny brown woman
with restless eyes who sat in state In
the front parlor and received his Wis
itors. The books in their cases gave
evidence Of little use for many years,
although their character indicated the
tastes of a man Of culture. His Pliny,
Caesar, Cicero, Tacitus. Sophocles, and
Homer had evidently been read by
man who knew their beauties and low
ed them for their own sake.
This house was now the Mecca Of
the party In power and the storm
centre of the forces destined to shape
the Nations life. Senators, represen-
tatives, politicians of low and high de-
gree, artists correspondents, foreign
ministers, and cabinet officers hurried
to acknowledge their fealty to the un-
crowned king, and hail the strange
brown women who held the keys Of his
house as the first lady Of the land.
When Charles Sumner called, cur
ious thing happened. By a code
agreed on between them, Lydia Brown
touched an electric signal which in
formed the old Commoner Of his ap-
peara-ce Stoneman hobbled to the
folding doors and watched through the
slight opening the manner In which
the senator GREETED the negress whom
he was compelled to meet thus as his
social equal, though she was always
particular to pose as the superior OF
all who bowed the knee to the old man
whose house she kept.
Sumner at this time was supposed to
De lne IIlOSl Soll6 Coo-
II was harmless fiction which pleas
ed him, and at which Stoneman loved
to laugh.
The senator from Massachusetts, had
just made a speech in Boston expound-
ing the Equality of Man," yet he
could not endure personal contact with
a negro. He would go secretly miles
out Of the way to avoid it.
Stoneman watched him slowly and
daintily approach the negress and
touch her jeweled hand gingerly with
the tips Of his classic fingers as If she
were a toad. Convulsed, he scrambled
back to his desk and hugged himself
while he listened TO the flow of Ly-
dias condescending patronage In the
next room.
"This worlds too good a thing to
lose!" he chuckled. II think I'll live
always"
Whe7 Sumner left, the hour for din
ner had arrived, and by special invi-
tation two men dined with him.
On his right sat an army officer who
had been dismissed from the service,
victim of the mania for gambling.
His ruddy face, iron-gray hair, and
jovial mien indicated that he enjoyed
life In spite of troubles.
There were no clubs in Washington
at this time except the regular gamb-
ling houses, of which there were more
than one hundred in full blast.
Stoneman was himself a gambler
and spent a part of almost every night
at Hall & Pemberton's Faro Palace on
Pennsylvania avenue, a place noted for
it's famous restaurant. 1t was here
tha. he met Colonel Howle and learned
to like him. He was man Of talent,
cool and audacious, and a liar Of such
singular fluency that he quite capti-
waited the old Commoner's imagina-
ton.
Upon my soul, Howle." he declared
soon after they met, you made the
mistake of your life going into the
army. You're a born politician. YOU
re what l call natural liar, just as
horse is a PAGER, dog setter. You
lie without effort, with an ease and
grace that excels all art. Had you
gone into politics, you could easily
have been secretary of state, to say
nothing of the vice presidency. /
would say president but for the fact
that men of the highest genius never
attain it."
From that moment Colonel Howle
had become his charmed henchman.
| Stoneman owned this man body and
soul. not merely because he had be-
friended him when he was in trouble
and friendless, but because the COL
onel recognized the power of the lead
er's daring spirit and revolutionary
genius.
On his left sat a negro Of perhaps
forty years, a man of charming feat
| ures for a mulatto, who had evidently
inherited the full physical characters
| tics of the Aryan race while his dark
yellowish eyes beneath his heavy
brows glowed with the brightness of
| the African jungles. 1t was Impossible
% look at his superb face, with its
large. finely chiselled lips and massive
nose, his big neck and broad should
ers, and watch his eyes gleam beneath
the projecting forehead, without seeing
pictures of the primeval forest. "The
head of a Caesar and the eyes of the
| Jungle" was the phrase coined by an
artist who painted his portrait.
| His hair was black and glossy and
stood in dishevelled profusion on his
head between a kink and a curl. He
was an orator Of great power, ana
stirred a negro audience as by magic.
Lydia Brown had called Stoneman,s
attention to this man, Silas Lynch,
aid induced the statesman to send him
to college. He had graduated with
credit and had entered the Methodist
ministry In his preaching to the
freedmen he had already become a
marked man. No house could hold his
audiences.
AS he stepped briskly into the din
ing-room and passed the brown wo-
man, a close observer might have seen
him suddenly press her hand and
caught her sly answering smile, but
the old man waiting at the head OF
| the table saw nothing.
The woman took her seat opposite
Storeman and presided over this cur
ious group with the easy assurance OF
conscious power Whatever her real
position. she knew how to play the
role she had chosen to assume.
No more curious or sinister fgure
ever cast a shadow across the history
of a great nation than did this mulatto
woman in the most corrupt hour OF
American life The grim old man who
looked into her sleek tawny face and
followed her catlike eyes was steadily
gripping the Nation by the throat.
Did he aim to make this woman the
arbiter of its social life, and her ethics
the limit of it's moral laws?
Even the white satellite who sat op-
posite Lynch flushed for moment as
the thought flashed through his brain
The old cynic who alone knew his
real purpose was In his most genial