“And do you think,” said Clayton, “that if men of that degree of energy and intelligence are refused instruction, they will not find means to get knowledge for themselves? And if they do get it themselves, in spite of your precautions, they will assuredly use it against you.
“The fact is, gentlemen, it is inevitable that a certain degree of culture must come from their intercourse with us, and minds of a certain class will be stimulated to desire more; and all the barriers we put up will only serve to inflame curiosity, and will make them feel a perfect liberty to use the knowledge they conquer from us against us. In my opinion, the only sure defense against insurrection is systematic education, by which we shall acquire that influence over their minds which our superior cultivation will enable us to hold. Then, as fast as they become fitted to enjoy rights, we must grant them.”
“Not we, indeed!” said Mr. Knapp, striking his cane upon the floor. “We are not going to lay down our power in that way. We will not allow any such beginning. We must hold them down firmly and consistently. For my part, I dislike even the system of oral religious instruction. It starts their minds, and leads them to want something more. It’s indiscreet, and I always said so. As for teaching them out of the Bible, — why, the Bible is the most exciting book that ever was put together! It always starts up the mind, and it’s unsafe.”
“Don’t you see,” said Clayton, “what an admission you are making? What sort of a system must this be, that requires such a course to sustain it?”
“I can’t help that,” said Mr. Knapp. “There’s millions and millions invested in it, and we can’t afford to risk such an amount of property for mere abstract speculation. The system is as good as forty other systems that have prevailed, and will prevail. We can’t take the framework of society to pieces. We must proceed with things as they are. And now, Mr. Clayton, another thing I have to say to you,” said he, looking excited, and getting up and walking the floor. “It has been discovered that you receive incendiary documents through the post-office; and this cannot be permitted, sir.”
The color flushed into Clayton’s face, and his eye kindled as he braced himself in his chair. “By what right,” he said, “does any one pry into what I receive through the post-office? Am I not a free man?”
“No, sir, you are not,” said Mr. Knapp,—” not free to receive that which may imperil a whole neighborhood. You are not free to store barrels of gunpowder on your premises, when they may blow up ours. Sir, we are obliged to hold the mail under supervision in this State; and suspected persons will not be allowed to receive communications without oversight. Don’t you remember that the general post-office was broken open in Charleston, and all the abolition documents taken out of the mail-bags and consumed, and a general meeting of all the most respectable citizens, headed by the clergy in their robes of office, solemnly confirmed the deed?”
“I think, Mr. Knapp,” said Judge Oliver, interposing in a milder tone, “that your excitement is carrying you further than you are aware. I should rather hope that Mr. Clayton would perceive the reasonableness of our demand, and of himself forego the taking of these incendiary documents.”
“I take no incendiary documents,” said Clayton warmly. “It is true I take an anti-slavery paper, edited at Washington, in which the subject is fairly and coolly discussed. I I hold it no more than every man’s duty to see both sides of a question.”
“Well, there, now,” said Mr. Knapp, “you see the disadvantage of having your slaves taught to read. If they could not read your papers, it would be no matter what you took; but to have them get to reasoning on these subjects, and spread their reasonings through our plantations, — why? there’ll be the devil to pay at once.”
“You must be sensible,” said Judge Oliver, “that there must be some individual rights which we resign for the public good. I have looked over the paper you speak of, and I acknowledge it seems to me very fair; but then, in our peculiar and critical position, it might prove dangerous to have such reading about my house, and I never have it.”
“In that case,” said Clayton, “I wonder you don’t suppress your own newspapers; for as long as there is a congressional discussion, or a Fourth of July oration, or senatorial speech in them, so long they are full of incendiary excitement. Our history is full of it, our state bills of rights are full of it, the lives of our fathers are full of it; we must suppress our whole literature if we would avoid it.”
“Now, don’t you see,” said Mr. Knapp, “you have stated just so many reasons why slaves must not learn to read?”
“To be sure I do,” said Clayton, “if they are always to remain slaves, if we are never to have any views of emancipation for them.”
“Well, they are to remain slaves,” said Mr. Knapp, speaking with excitement. “Their condition is a finality; we will not allow the subject of emancipation to be discussed even.”
“Then God have mercy on you!” said Clayton solemnly; “for it is my firm belief that, in resisting the progress of human freedom, you will be found fighting against God.”
“It isn’t the cause of human freedom,” said Mr. Knapp hastily. “They are not human; they are an inferior race, made expressly for subjection and servitude. The Bible teaches this plainly.”
“Why don’t you teach them to read it, then?” said Clayton coolly.
“The long and the short of the matter is, Mr. Clayton,” said Mr. Knapp, walking nervously up and down the room, “you’ll find this is not a matter to be trifled with. We come, as your friends, to warn you; and if you don’t listen to our warnings, we shall not hold ourselves responsible for what may follow. You ought to have some consideration for your sister, if not for yourself.”
“I confess,” said Clayton, “I had done the chivalry of South Carolina the honor to think that a lady could have nothing to fear.”
“It is so generally,” said Judge Oliver, “but on this subject there is such a dreadful excitability in the public mind that we cannot control it. You remember when the commissioner was sent by the legislature of Massachusetts to Charleston, he came with his daughter, a very cultivated and elegant young lady; but the mob was rising, and we could not control it, and we had to go and beg them to leave the city. I, for one, wouldn’t have been at all answerable for the consequences if they had remained.”
“I must confess, Judge Oliver,” said Clayton, “that I have been surprised this morning to hear South Carolinians palliating two such events in your history, resulting from mob violence, as the breaking open of the post-office, and the insult to the representative of a sister State, who came in the most peaceable and friendly spirit, and to womanhood in the person of an accomplished lady. Is this hydra-headed monster, the mob, to be our governor?”
“Oh, it is only upon this subject,” said all three of the gentlemen at once; “this subject is exceptional.”
“And do you think,” said Clayton, “that
‘you can set the land on fire,
To burn just so high, and no higher?’
You may depend upon it you will find that you cannot. The mob that you smile on and encourage, when it does work that suits you, will one day prove itself your master in a manner that you will not like.”
“Well, now, Mr. Clayton,” said Mr. Bradshaw, who had not hitherto spoken, “yon see this is a very disagreeable subject; but the fact is, we came in a friendly way to you. We all appreciate personally the merits of your character, and the excellence of your motives; but really, sir, there is an excitement rising, there is a state of the public mind which is getting every day more and more inflammable. I talked with Miss Anne on this subject some months ago, and expressed my feelings very fully; and now, if you will only give us a pledge that you will pursue a different course, we shall have something to take hold of to quiet the popular mind. If you will just write and stop your paper for the present, and let it be understood that your plantation system is to be stopped, the thing will gradually cool itself off.”
“Gentlemen,”
said Clayton, “you are asking a very serious thing from me, and one which requires reflection. If I am violating the direct laws of the State, and these laws are to be considered as still in vital force, there is certainly some question with regard to my course; but still I have responsibilities for the moral and religious improvement of those under my care, which are equally binding. I see no course but removal from the State.”
“Of course, we should be sorry,” said Judge Oliver, “you should be obliged to do that; still we trust you will see the necessity, and our motives.”
“Necessity is the tyrant’s plea, I believe,” said Clayton, smiling.
“At all events, it is a strong one,” replied Judge Oliver, smiling also. “But I am glad we have had this conversation; I think it will enable me to pacify the minds of some of our hot-headed young neighbors, and prevent threatened mischief.”
After a little general conversation, the party separated on apparently friendly terms, and Clayton went to seek counsel with his sister and Frank Russel.
Anne was indignant with that straight-out and generous indignation which belongs to women, who, generally speaking, are ready to follow their principles to any result with more inconsiderate fearlessness than men. She had none of the anxieties for herself which Clayton had for her. Having once been witness of the brutalities of a slave mob, Clayton could not, without a shudder, connect any such possibilities with his sister.
“I think,” said Anne, “we had better give up this miserable sham of a free government, of freedom of speech, freedom of conscience, and all that, if things must go on in this way.”
“Oh,” said Frank Russel, “the fact is that our republic, in these States, is like that of Venice: it’s not a democracy, but an oligarchy, and the mob is its standing army. We are, all of us, under the ‘Council of Ten,’ which has its eyes everywhere. We are free enough as long as our actions please them; when they don’t, we shall find their noose around our necks. It’s very edifying, certainly, to have these gentlemen call on you to tell you that they will not be answerable for consequences of excitement which they are all the time stirring up; for, after all, who cares what you do, if they don’t? The large proprietors are the ones interested. The rabble are their hands, and this warning about popular excitement just means, ‘Sir, if you don’t take care, I shall let out my dogs, and then I won’t be answerable for consequences.’”
“And you call this liberty!” said Anne indignantly.
“Oh, well,” said Russel, “this is a world of humbugs. We call it liberty because it’s an agreeable name. After all, what is liberty, that people make such a breeze about? We are all slaves to one thing or another. Nobody is absolutely free, except Robinson Crusoe, in the desolate island; and he tears all his shirts to pieces and hangs them up as signals of distress, that he may get back into slavery again.”
“For all that,” said Anne, warming, “I know there is such a thing as liberty. All that nobleness and enthusiasm which has animated people in all ages for liberty cannot be in vain. Who does not thrill at those words of the Marseillaise: —
“‘O Liberty, can man resign thee,
Once having felt thy generous flame?
Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee,
Or whips thy noble spirit tame?’”
“These are certainly agreeable myths,” said Russel, “but these things will not bear any close looking into. Liberty has generally meant the liberty of me and my nation and my class to do what we please; which is a very pleasant thing, certainly, to those who are on the upper side of the wheel, and probably involving much that’s disagreeable to those who are under.”
“That is a heartless, unbelieving way of talking,” said Anne with tears in her eyes. “I know there have been some right true, noble souls, in whom the love of liberty has meant the love of right, and the desire that every human brother should have what rightly belongs to him. It is not my liberty, nor our liberty, but the principle of liberty itself, that they strove for.”
“Such a principle, carried out logically, would make smashing work in this world,” said Russel. “In this sense, where is there a free government on earth? What nation ever does or ever did respect the right of the weaker, or ever will, till the millennium comes? — and that’s too far off to be of much use in practical calculations; so don’t let’s break our hearts about a name. For my part, I am more concerned about these implied threats. As I said before, ‘the hand of Joab is in this thing.’ Tom Gordon is visiting in this neighborhood, and you may depend upon it that this, in some way, comes from him. He is a perfectly reckless fellow, and I am afraid of some act of violence. If he should bring up a mob, whatever they do, there will be no redress for you. These respectable gentlemen, your best friends, will fold their hands and say, ‘Ah, poor fellow! we told him so!’ while others will put their hands complacently in their pockets, and say, I Served him right!’”
“I think,” said Clayton, “there will be no immediate violence. I understood that they pledged as much when they departed.”
“If Tom Gordon is in the camp,” said Russel, “they may find that they have reckoned without their host in promising that. There are two or three young fellows in this vicinity who, with his energy to direct them, are reckless enough for anything; and there is always an abundance of excitable rabble to be got for a drink of whiskey.”
The event proved that Russel was right. Anne’s bedroom was in the back part of the cottage, opposite the little grove where stood her school-room. She was awakened, about one o’clock that night, by a broad, ruddy glare of light, which caused her at first to start from her bed with the impression that the house was on fire. At the same instant she perceived that the air was full of barbarous and dissonant sounds, such as the beating of tin pans, the braying of horns, and shouts of savage merriment, intermingled with slang oaths and curses.
In a moment, recovering herself, she perceived that it was her school-house which was in a blaze, crisping and shriveling the foliage of the beautiful trees by which it was surrounded, and filling the air with a lurid light. She hastily dressed, and in a few moments Clayton and Russel knocked at the door. Both were looking very pale.
“Don’t be alarmed,” said Clayton, putting his arm around her with that manner which shows that there is everything to fear; “I am going out to speak to them.”
“Indeed, you are going to do no such thing,” said Frank Russel decidedly. “This is no time for any extra displays of heroism. These men are insane with whiskey and excitement. They have probably been especially inflamed against you, and your presence would irritate them still more. Let me go out: I understand the ignobile vulgus better than you do; besides which, providentially, I haven’t any conscience to prevent my saying and doing what is necessary for an emergency. You shall see me lead off this whole yelling pack at my heels in triumph. And now, Clayton, you take care of Anne, like a good fellow, till I come back, which may be about four or five o’clock to-morrow morning. I shall toll all these fellows down to Muggins’s, and leave them so drunk they cannot stand for one three hours.”
So saying, Frank proceeded hastily to disguise himself in a shaggy old great-coat, and to tie around his throat a red bandana silk handkerchief, with a very fiery and dashing tie, and, surmounting these equipments by an old hat which had belonged to one of the servants, he stole out of the front door, and, passing around through the shrubbery, was very soon lost in the throng who surrounded the burning building. He soon satisfied himself that Tom Gordon was not personally among them, — that they consisted entirely of the lower class of whites.
“So far, so good,” he said to himself, and, springing on to the stump of a tree, he commenced a speech in that peculiar slang dialect which was vernacular with them, and of which he perfectly well understood the use.
With his quick and ready talent for drollery, he soon had them around him in paroxysms of laughter; and, complimenting their bravery, flattering and cajoling their vanity, he soon got them co
mpletely in his power, and they assented, with a triumphant shout, to the proposition that they should go down and celebrate their victory at Muggins’s grocery, a low haunt about a mile distant, whither, as he predicted, they all followed him. And he was as good as his word in not leaving them till all were so completely under the power of liquor as to be incapable of mischief for the time being.
About nine o’clock the next day he returned, finding Clayton and Anne seated together at breakfast.
“Now, Clayton,” he said, seating himself,”I am going to talk to you in good, solemn earnest for once. The fact is, you are checkmated. Your plans for gradual emancipation, or reform, or anything tending in that direction, are utterly hopeless; and if you want to pursue them with your own people, you must either send them to Liberia, or to the Northern States. There was a time, fifty years ago, when such things were contemplated with some degree of sincerity by all the leading minds at the South. That time is over. From the very day that they began to open new territories to slavery, the value of this kind of property mounted up, so as to make emancipation a moral impossibility. It is, as they told you, a finality; and don’t you see how they make everything in the Union bend to it? Why, these men are only about three tenths of the population of our Southern States, and yet the other seven tenths virtually have no existence. All they do is to vote as they are told, — as they know they must, being too ignorant to know any better.
Complete Works of Harriet Beecher Stowe Page 124
