CHAPTER IX
A QUIET SUNDAY IN LOCUST STREET
IF the truth were known where Virginia got the opinions which sheexpressed so freely to her aunt and cousin, it was from Colonel Carvelhimself. The Colonel would rather have denounced the Dred Scott decisionthan admit to Judge Whipple that one of the greatest weaknesses of theSouth lay in her lack of mechanical and manufacturing ability. But he hadconfessed as much in private to Captain Elijah Brent. The Colonel wouldoften sit for an hour or more, after supper, with his feet tucked up onthe mantel and his hat on the back of his head, buried in thought. Thenhe would saunter slowly down to the Planters' House bar, which served thepurposes of a club in those days, in search of an argument with otherprominent citizens. The Colonel had his own particular chair in his ownparticular corner, which was always vacated when he came in at the door.And then he always had three fingers of the best Bourbon whiskey, no moreand no less, every evening.
He never met his bosom friend and pet antagonist at the Planters' Housebar. Judge Whipple, indeed, took his meals upstairs, but he neverdescended,--it was generally supposed because of the strong slaveryatmosphere there. However, the Judge went periodically to his friend'sfor a quiet Sunday dinner (so called in derision by St. Louisans), onwhich occasions Virginia sat at the end of the table and endeavored topour water on the flames when they flared up too fiercely.
The Sunday following her ride to Bellegarde was the Judge's Sunday,Certain tastes which she had inherited had hitherto provided her withpleasurable sensations while these battles were in progress. More thanonce had she scored a fair hit on the Judge for her father,--to themutual delight of both gentlemen. But to-day she dreaded being present atthe argument. Just why she dreaded it is a matter of feminine psychologybest left to the reader for solution.
The argument began, as usual, with the tearing apart limb by limb of theunfortunate Franklin Pierce, by Judge Whipple.
"What a miserable exhibition in the eyes of the world," said the Judge."Franklin Pierce of New Hampshire" (he pronounced this name with infinitescorn) "managed by Jefferson Davis of Mississippi!"
"And he was well managed, sir," said the Colonel.
"What a pliant tool of your Southern slaveholders! I hear that you are togive him a plantation as a reward."
"No such thing, sir."
"He deserves it," continued the Judge, with conviction. "See themagnificent forts he permitted Davis to build up in the South, thearsenals he let him stock. The country does not realize this. But the daywill, come when they will execrate Pierce before Benedict Arnold, sir.And look at the infamous Kansas-Nebraska act! That is the greatest crime,and Douglas and Pierce the greatest criminals, of the century."
"Do have some more of that fried chicken, Judge," said Virginia.
Mr. Whipple helped himself fiercely, and the Colonel smiled.
"You should be satisfied now," said he. "Another Northern man is in theWhite House."
"Buchanan!" roared the Judge, with his mouth full.
"Another traitor, sir. Another traitor worse than the first. He swallowsthe Dred Scott decision, and smirks. What a blot on the history of thisRepublic! O Lord!" cried Mr. Whipple, "what are we coming to? A Northernman, he could gag and bind Kansas and force her into slavery against thewill of her citizens. He packs his Cabinet to support the ruffians yousend over the borders. The very governors he ships out there, hishenchmen, have their stomachs turned. Look at Walker, whom they areplotting against in Washington. He can't stand the smell of thisLecompton Constitution Buchanan is trying to jam down their throats.Jefferson Davis would have troops there, to be sure that it goes through,if he had his way. Can't you see how one sin leads to another, Carvel?How slavery is rapidly demoralizing a free people?"
"It is because you won't let it alone where it belongs, sir," retortedthe Colonel. It was seldom that he showed any heat in his replies. Hetalked slowly, and he had a way of stretching forth his hand to preventthe more eager Judge from interrupting him.
"The welfare of the whole South, as matters now stand, sir, depends uponslavery. Our plantations could not exist a day without slave labor. Ifyou abolished that institution, Judge Whipple, you would ruin millions ofyour fellow-countrymen,--you would reduce sovereign states to a situationof disgraceful dependence. And all, sir," now he raised his voice lestthe Judge break in, "all, sir, for the sake of a low breed that ain't fitfor freedom. You and I, who have the Magna Charta and the Declaration ofIndependence behind us, who are descended from a race that has donenothing but rule for ten centuries and more, may well establish aRepublic where the basis of stability is the self-control of theindividual--as long as men such as you and I form its citizens. Look atthe South Americans. How do Republics go there? And the minute you and Ilet in niggers, who haven't any more self-control than dogs, on an equalbasis, with as much of a vote as you have,--niggers, sir, that have livedlike wild beasts in the depths of the jungle since the days of Ham,--what's going to become of our Republic?"
"Education," cried the Judge.
But the word was snatched out of his mouth.
"Education isn't a matter of one generation. No, sir, nor two, nor three,nor four. But of centuries."
"Sir," said the Judge, "I can point out negroes of intelligence andlearning."
"And I reckon you could teach some monkeys to talk English, and recitethe catechism, and sing emotional hymns, if you brought over a couple ofmillion from Africa," answered the Colonel, dryly, as he rose to put onhis hat and light a cigar.
It was his custom to offer a cigar to the Judge, who invariably refused,and rubbed his nose with scornful violence.
Virginia, on the verge of leaving, stayed on, fascinated by the turn theargument had taken.
"Your prejudice is hide-bound, sir," said Mr. Whipple.
"No, Whipple," said the Colonel, "when God washed off this wicked earth,and started new, He saw fit to put the sons of Ham in subjection. They'reslaves of each other in Africa, and I reckon they're treated no betterthan they are here. Abuses can't be helped in any system, sir, though weare bettering them. Were the poor in London in the days of the Edwards aswell off as our niggers are to-day?"
The Judge snorted.
"A divine institution!" he shouted. "A black curse! Because the world hasbeen a wicked place of oppression since Noah's day, is that any reasonwhy it should so continue until the day of Judgment?"
The Colonel smiled, which was a sign that he was pleased with hisargument.
"Now, see here, Whipple," said he. "If we had any guarantee that youwould let us alone where we are, to manage our slaves and to cultivateour plantations, there wouldn't be any trouble. But the country keeps ongrowing and growing, and you're not content with half. You wanteverything,--all the new states must abolish slavery. And after a whileyou will overwhelm us, and ruin us, and make us paupers. Do you wonderthat we contend for our rights, tooth and nail? They are our rights."
"If it had not been for Virginia and Maryland and the South, this nationwould not be in existence."
The Colonel laughed.
"First rate, Jinny," he cried. "That's so."
But the Judge was in a revery. He probably had not heard her.
"The nation is going to the dogs," he said, mumbling rather to himselfthan to the others. "We shall never prosper until the curse is shakenoff, or wiped out in blood. It clogs our progress. Our merchant marine,of which we were so proud, has been annihilated by these continueddisturbances. But, sir," he cried, hammering his fist upon the tableuntil the glasses rang, "the party that is to save us was born atPittsburgh last year on Washington's birthday. The Republican Party,sir."
"Shucks!" exclaimed Mr. Carvel, with amusement, "The Black RepublicanParty, made up of old fools and young Anarchists, of Dutchmen andnigger-worshippers. Why, Whipple, that party's a joke. Where's yourleader?"
"In Illinois," was the quick response.
"What's his name?"
"Abraham Lincoln, sir," thundered Mr. Whipple. "And to my way of thinkinghe ha
s uttered a more significant phrase on the situation than any ofyour Washington statesmen. 'This government,' said he to a friend ofmine, 'cannot exist half slave and half free.'"
So impressively did Mr. Whipple pronounce these words that Mr. Carvelstirred uneasily, and in spite of himself, as though he were listening toan oracle. He recovered instantly.
"He's a demagogue, seeking for striking phrases, sir. You're toointelligent a man to be taken in by such as he."
"I tell you he is not, sir."
"I know him, sir," cried the Colonel, taking down his feet. "He's anobscure lawyer. Poor white trash! Torn down poor! My friend Mr.Richardson of Springfield tells me he is low down. He was born in a logcabin, and spends most of his time in a drug-store telling stories thatyou would not listen to, Judge Whipple."
"I would listen to anything he said," replied the Judge. "Poor whitetrash, sir! The greatest men rise from the people. A demagogue!" Mr.Whipple fairly shook with rage. "The nation doesn't know him yet. Butmark my words, the day will come when it will. He was ballotted forVice-President in the Philadelphia convention last year. Nobody paid anyattention to that. If the convention had heard him speak at Bloomington,he would have been nominated instead of Fremont. If the nation could haveheard him, he would be President to-day instead of that miserableBuchanan. I happened to be at Bloomington. And while the idiots on theplatform were drivelling, the people kept calling for Lincoln. I hadnever heard of him then. I've never forgot him since. He came ambling outof the back of the hall, a lanky, gawky looking man, ridiculously ugly,sir. But the moment he opened his mouth he had us spellbound. Thelanguage which your low-down lawyer used was that of a God-sent prophet,sir. He had those Illinois bumpkins all worked up,--the women crying,and some of the men, too. And mad! Good Lord, they were mad--'We will sayto the Southern disunionists,' he cried,--'we will say to the Southerndisunionists, we won't go out of the Union, and you shan't.'"
There was a silence when the Judge finished. But presently Mr. Carveltook a match. And he stood over the Judge in his favorite attitude,--with his feet apart,--as he lighted another cigar.
"I reckon we're going to have war, Silas," said he, slowly; "but don'tyou think that your Mr. Lincoln scares me into that belief. I don't counthis bluster worth a cent. No sirree! It's this youngster who comes outhere from Boston and buys a nigger with all the money he's got in theworld. And if he's an impetuous young fool; I'm no judge of men."
"Appleton Brice wasn't precisely impetuous," remarked Mr. Whipple. And hesmiled a little bitterly, as though the word had stirred a memory.
"I like that young fellow," Mr. Carvel continued. "It seems to be a kindof fatality with me to get along with Yankees. I reckon there's a screwloose somewhere, but Brice acted the man all the way through. He goa afall out of you, Silas, in your room, after the show. Where are yougoing, Jinny?"
Virginia had risen, and she was standing very erects with a flush on herface, waiting for her father to finish.
"To see Anne Brinsmade," she said. "Good-by, Uncle Silas."
She had called him so from childhood. Hers was the one voice that seemedto soften him--it never failed. He turned to her now with a movement thatwas almost gentle. "Virginia, I should like you to know my young Yankee,"said he.
"Thank you, Uncle Silas," said the girl, with dignity, "but I scarcelythink that he would care to know me. He feels so strongly."
"He feels no stronger than I do," replied the Judge.
"You have gotten used to me in eighteen years, and besides," she flashed,"you never spent all the money you had in the world for a principle."
Mr. Whipple smiled as she went out of the door.
"I have spent pretty near all," he said. But more to himself than to theColonel.
That evening, some young people came in to tea, two of the four bigCatherwood boys, Anne Brinsmade and her brother Jack, Puss Russell andBert, and Eugenie Renault. But Virginia lost her temper. In an evilmoment Puss Russell started the subject of the young Yankee who haddeprived her of Hester. Puss was ably seconded by Jack Brinsmade, whosereputation as a tormentor extended far back into his boyhood. In vain;did Anne, the peacemaker, try to quench him, while the big Catherwoodsand Bert Russell laughed incessantly. No wonder that Virginia was angry.She would not speak to Puss as that young lady bade her good night. Andthe Colonel, coming home from an evening with Mr, Brinsmade, found hisdaughter in an armchair, staring into the sitting-room fire. There was noother light in the room Her chin was in her hand, and her lips werepursed.
"Heigho!" said the Colonel, "what's the trouble now?"
"Nothing," said Virginia.
"Come," he insisted, "what have they been doing to my girl?"
"Pa!"
"Yes, honey."
"I don't want to go to balls all my life. I want to go toboarding-school, and learn something. Emily is going to Monticello afterChristmas. Pa, will you let me?"
Mr. Carvel winced. He put an arm around her. He, thought of his lonelywidowerhood, of her whose place Virginia had taken.
"And what shall I do?" he said, trying to smile.
"It will only be for a little while. And Monticello isn't very far, Pa."
"Well, well, there is plenty of time to think it over between now andJanuary," he said. "And now I have a little favor to ask of you, honey."
"Yes?" she said.
The Colonel took the other armchair, stretched his feet toward the blaze,and stroked his goatee. He glanced covertly at his daughter's profile.Twice he cleared hip throat.
"Jinny?"
"Yes, Pa" (without turning her head).
"Jinny, I was going to speak of this young. Brice. He's a stranger here,and he comes of a good family, and--and I like him."
"And you wish me to invite him to my party," finished Virginia.
The Colonel started. "I reckon you guessed it," he said.
Virginia remained immovable. She did not answer at once. Then she said:
"Do you think, in bidding against me, that he behaved, like a gentleman?"
The Colonel blundered.
"Lord, Virginia," he said, "I thought you told the judge this afternoonteat it was done out of principle."
Virginia ignored this. But she bit her lip
"He is like all Yankees, without one bit of consideration for a woman. Heknew I wanted Hester."
"What makes you imagine that he thought of you at all, my dear?" askedher father, mildly, "He does not know you."
This time the Colonel scored certainly. The firelight saved Virginia.
"He overheard our conversation," she answered.
"I reckon that he wasn't worrying much about us. And besides, he wastrying to save Hester from Jennings."
"I thought that you said that it was to be my party, Pa," said Virginia,irrelevantly.
The Colonel looked thoughtful, then he began to laugh.
"Haven't we enough Black Republican friends?" she asked.
"So you won't have him?" said the Colonel.
"I didn't say that I wouldn't have him," she answered.
The Colonel rose, and brushed the ashes from his goat.
"By Gum!" he said. "Women beat me."
The Crisis — Volume 02 Page 2
